“Now it’s time for presents. everyone into the hall” Tim did his best not to catch Kathleen’s eye, instead concentrating rather too obviously on helping his mother.
“Mum, Kathleen, let me have any presents you’ve brought with you and I’ll put them under the tree then I’ll find one present in turn for everyone. If we run out for someone I will get one of the presents from the tree itself.” It was what the Cross family had done every year, it was a familiar tradition for them, but totally alien to Kathleen and she did little to hide her discomfort. None of this Christmas felt right to her, especially with Margaret mysteriously ill upstairs.
“Kathleen, you first.” Tim handed her a well wrapped present which she opened without enthusiasm.
“Thank you Esme. What a well-judged gift. I shall enjoy reading that.” They all suspected the book, on Victorian country houses, would be placed on a shelf and never opened.
Anya was surprised to receive, as her first present, a small unwrapped box from Kathleen. As she opened it she realised it contained a ring. She looked at Kathleen questioningly.
“It was Geoffrey’s great-grandmother’s. It is passed to the first Mrs Philips of each generation and since there is no doubt that that is what you are then it is yours.” She spoke with a precision and lack of feeling that belied the generosity of the gift.
Anya looked at the emerald and diamond ring. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” Geoff walked over and put it on the fourth finger of his wife’s left hand and kissed her. He wished she’d tell him the truth about where her other ring had come from, he didn’t believed what she had said about her mother. No one who lived the way the Caves had lived would have had a ring like that.
Geoff walked over to his mother and kissed her cheek. “Thank you Mother, that was really nice of you.”
“It is your wife’s by right, Geoffrey, whoever that might be. And as long as she is your wife she has a right to wear it.” She turned to look severely at Anya. “But it is not hers, should she cease to be Mrs Philips she will return it to the family.” Anya returned Kathleen’s look with one of utter indifference, she then turned to Geoff and frowned, warning him that he shouldn’t grace his mother’s rudeness with any response. Geoff bent down, picked up a parcel from beneath the tree and handed it gracelessly to his mother. “From Anya and me.”
Anya had taken a great deal of care in choosing the sweater she and Geoff had bought for his mother. It was fine cashmere and a delicate colour that would suit Kathleen’s pale skin and grey hair. She knew that battle lines were drawn with her mother-in-law as she watched Kathleen open the carefully wrapped parcel, take one look at the sweater and place it, with no word of thanks, on the table behind her.
Other presents were given and received with varying amounts of enthusiasm. Geoff watched Anya sitting quietly as few of the presents were for her. Again he thought the words over and over, the emphasis on different words. ‘My wife. My wife. My wife.” He realised with a certainty that shocked him that he loved her and that he wanted her to love him, only him. In a moment that he couldn’t tie down, almost without the words forming in his consciousness, he understood the mistakes he had made. He should not have persuaded Anya to marry him when they could easily have lived together. He should have discussed his plans with her about taking the job. He should never have thought going back to his home town, so close to his family, was a good idea. He should never have thought that his love for her was enough to overcome every problem they would face. He also understood that he had no idea how to make things right.
The meal started well. There were enough meat and vegetables for Geoff and Tim to eat as much they wanted and even Kathleen could find little other than the slight firmness of the sprouts to criticise. Tim kept their glasses topped up with wine and there was little need for conversation.
“That was brilliant.” Geoff sat back after clearing his plate. “I had no idea I’d married such a good cook.”
“Margaret was so well organised, all I had to do was follow instructions and I’m quite good at that.” Anya sounded tired, hardly surprising, thought Geoff, after yesterday’s leaving of Liverpool, the long journey followed by the evening at the Oak. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the events at The Oak. Why had he thought it a good idea to push them together?
“Well I think you picked up the reins beautifully, my dear.” Esme smiled as she spoke. “We all know what a lovely cook Margaret is, you have done her proud. Tim I think it’s time for some toasts.”
Kathleen looked surprised. Toasts were for the evening, never before the Queen’s speech and never before the pudding. That was how it had been at every Philips family Christmas.
“Of course Mum. OK people.” Tim smiled as he saw Kathleen’s look of horror. “Make sure your glasses are full, we have a good few toasts to get through.”
Geoff walked round the table filling glasses.
“First. To our mothers…” Tim raised his glass in turn to Esme and to Kathleen. Geoffrey responded with “Our hosts, Tim and Margaret”, then regretted including Margaret because it reminded everyone of her absence. Tim responded, with a glance in Anya’s direction, with “Our cook and her husband. Geoff and Anya.”
Glasses were drained and refilled.
“Absent friends.” Geoff, relaxed after the good meal and the free-flowing alcohol, raised his glass, it seemed an obscure toast so he elaborated “Our fathers, Geoffrey and Marcus. We miss them today as we do every Christmas.”
“And also to Anya’s parents.” Esme added, unsettled by the reference to her ex-husband. Geoff was unprepared for the look of pain on Anya’s face. She rarely mentioned her mother and never spoke of her father. He began to realise there was so much he hadn’t begun to know or understand about her.
“Generations gone and generations to come.” Geoff spoke without thinking. He had meant to take attention from Anya’s pain but understood immediately he had served only to add to it. She looked as though she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears much longer. Thoughts came quickly and instinctively. He had to protect Anya. He could not lose her. Tim was a threat. If everyone knew the truth Tim could never be with Anya. Then it was clear to him what he had to do. He didn’t look at his wife or at Tim as he spoke firmly. “To Margaret and the baby.”
The silence was broken by Kathleen’s overly polite enquiry. “To whom?”
“Margaret’s expecting?” Esme asked excitedly. “Oh that’s wonderful news.”
Anya pushed her chair back, leaving for the refuge of the kitchen. No one would miss her and she could busy herself with the Christmas pudding. She couldn’t listen to the family congratulating itself. She should never have married Geoff. He would never escape his family and she hated every self-satisfied, self-righteous, smug one of them.
In the dining room, trying to ignore Anya’s departure, Tim bowed to the inevitable and, with a poisonous look at Geoff, he spoke to the newly expectant grandmothers. “It’s very early days. She’s not having an easy time and she didn’t want to get people’s hopes up in case anything went wrong. A third of all pregnancies do in the early month so please don’t get too excited yet.”
“There’s no reason why she should have any problem. Unlike other women we could mention, there’s nothing at all wrong with Margaret.” Kathleen’s defence of her daughter was strident.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything.” Geoff didn’t sound as if he was regretting his words.
“No you bloody shouldn’t.” Tim was angry.
“I must go up to her.” Kathleen had put aside her napkin and was standing up.
“You will not.” Tim was adamant. “She doesn’t want you. Don’t you dare go up there.”
“But she’s my daughter. I must go up to her.”
“You will not.” Tim was standing in the doorway.
“This is farcical.” Geoff stood up and stood between the two, facing his mother. “Sit down mother. Anya has worked hard today to cook Christmas dinn
er and you will eat the pudding. We will all eat the pudding. Sit down. Everyone.” Esme watched, bemused at emotions she did not understand. “We’ll sort out all this stuff after we’ve finished lunch but finish lunch we will.” And he walked through to the kitchen where Anya was sitting, hunched over, her eyes closed, tears running in a line down each cheek.
“Is the pudding ready? They’re ready for the pudding.” He tried to sound cheerful.
“It’s ready.” The sparkle of presenting a wonderful meal, all the better for challenging their expectations, was gone. She dropped her voice to ask “Why did you say anything? You knew that they wanted it kept secret.”
Geoff defended himself, almost whispering. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t know why I said it.”
“I do.”
“Tell me then.”
“You’re jealous. You want Tim to be tied to Margaret because of me.”
“Let’s finish this lunch.”
“Listen to me.” Anya spoke softly, she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Last night we didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t do anything?”
“No. We just talked.”
“Then what was all that about ‘best Christmas Present ever’?”
“He had found someone on his side, that he could talk to about how he felt about Margaret and Kathleen. No one else could possibly understand.”
“You didn’t do anything?” Geoff repeated.
“No and we aren’t going to. So let’s get this lunch over with so we can go home and start again.”
Geoff carefully carried the ladle filled with brandy into the dining room and with false jollity called for lights to be turned off. Anya had been really proud of the pudding but now she just wanted to throw it down and run away.
The conversation had calmed down as if the five people around the table had wordlessly decided to call a truce. As they finished the meal Geoff told Anya to stay where she was, he and Tim would do the clearing away and the washing up. Kathleen and Esme were quietly gossiping about something that didn’t seem important even to them leaving Anya to her thoughts. Every family occasion would be a strain. As Margaret and Tim’s family grew, as it would, those occasions would become unbearable. However much she and Geoff may love each other their marriage didn’t have a hope of lasting for the single, simple reason that she could not give him what he didn’t yet know he needed.
Children.
Chapter 9: Miscalculations
Kent, January 1976
Anya pulled the silver trunk out of the cupboard in the room that she called her study and Geoff called the spare room. She unlocked it and looked at the volumes, carefully choosing one from almost exactly three years before.
Tuesday 9th January 1973
Well here we go then. G’s off to his second day at work and I’m alone for the day. It’s been two weeks since we said goodbye to the flat, goodbye to Liverpool, goodbye to Anya Cave. I must learn to be Anya Philips somehow. The house was ready to move into when we came down but it’s just a house not a home and that has to be my job. But I will not be just a housewife. Unless I can make a life for myself I will grow to resent G so much for tricking me into this position. I will not be a Stepford wife. I will make a life for myself.
Christmas Eve at the Oak T and I talked. It was good to talk. I was probably so tired after the drive I gave too much away I told him we’d moved down. He talked about his problems I talked about mine. He said although he fancied the pants off me (his words) we couldn’t do the sex thing (his words again). But he said I wasn’t to worry about being alone. He understood how difficult it would be for me and he’d always be there to talk to, so I’d always have someone on my side. Did he think already that G wouldn’t be?
I think about Dr Hill a lot. He really was a friend. I went to see him before we left, just to say goodbye. I said I’d come and see him whenever I could but we both knew we’d never meet again. How melodramatic is that. I promised I would never forget what Dot had said and never forget what they had done for me. I think he realised what I had already realised, that it was a mistake to have married G. We should have just lived together, and then I could have upped sticks and escaped at any time. Marrying G has meant I’ve lost control of my life.
Anya looked up from the diary and stared out of the window at the garden, her garden.
It was Sunday and Geoff had gone to his mother’s for lunch. As had been usual for most of the previous three years, she stayed at home. She had joined him on Sundays for the first few months despite it being obvious she was not welcome. She had listened politely to the conversation, answering the few questions that were directed her way, usually by Geoff, and trying to be part of the family. Despite his promises to be her ally, Tim seemed to do his best to ignore her. Irrationally, she had felt betrayed. The visit that was to be her last was spent discussing plans for the increasingly imminent birth of Margaret’s baby. Kathleen had commented ‘of course that’s something Geoffrey will never have to worry about unless he comes to his senses and divorces the woman.’ Anya had looked towards Geoff expecting him to remonstrate with his mother but he kept quiet and avoided meeting her eyes. The next week she cooked Sunday lunch expecting that they would both stay at home but his mother’s hold on him was too strong.
She looked back at her diaries and flipped through Anya Philips 1974.
Sunday, no need to date it, it’s just the same as every other bloody Sunday
Woke up half an hour before the alarm. Lay in bed waiting for G to wake up. Sex, excellent, as ever. Breakfast always the same on a Sunday scrambled eggs, orange juice, freshly ground coffee. Second coffee no later than 10 while reading papers. 11.30 G leaves for T & M or K (alternating weeks). Why does he keep going without me? He said his mother said I wasn’t to darken her door any more. I said he should tell her it was his fucking door. And when it’s at T & M’s why doesn’t T make them include me? He said he would be my friend and he’s done nothing. But still G goes off every Sunday for lunch with the family and muggins here stays at home. Why do I put up with it? No idea. G gets back 5ish. Always awkward for a bit as he tells me how awful it was, what M said, what T did, what the children got up to. Doesn’t he realise? He just doesn’t think. He wouldn’t do it if he knew how much it hurts. Rest of the weeks are OK. But Sundays I can do without.
She put Anya Philips 1974 back in the box and pulled out Anya Philips 1975. She held it unopened in her hands as she stared out of the window. The garden looked lovely as the sun melted the frost from the lawn. She watched as the area of white slowly receded as the sun rose higher on the clear January morning. The flower beds were empty apart from carefully located perennial shrubs which gave some colour and she noticed the first signs of bulbs sprouting signalling that spring would inevitably arrive. Discouraged from finding a career, Anya had found she had a talent for gardening and enjoyed writing irregular articles for the local newspapers. She would miss the garden when the farce that was her marriage was finally brought to an end. She knew she had to leave Geoff but she still loved him and just looking at him when he was unaware of her scrutiny always softened her resolve. She knew that, had they not moved to this house, in this area, they would have been happy. But they had and they weren’t.
She wanted to understand why he was letting his mother change him into a man she knew he didn’t really want to be. She wanted to understand so she could forgive him. But she could do neither.
She wrote Anya Philips née Cave 1976 on the cover of a new volume. It was only eight years since she had left school with a briefcase full of exercise books from the stationery cupboard for her diary. It felt so much longer than that.
She looked at the empty page and decided to write a letter which, like her mother’s, would never be posted.
Sunday 11th January 1976
Darling Geoff,
Tomorrow I go to a solicitor and get our divorce under way. While you’re with your mother I’m spending the afternoon preparing to end our
time together.
Geoff I love you so much. We started this marriage wrong, you really should have told me what you were planning, but I did try to make the best of it. It would have helped so much if you could have been more on my side. Whenever there was a choice to be made between ‘them’ and me ‘they’ always won. You and I were happy before we were married, but we were fooling ourselves weren’t we? As soon as we moved down here your mother got her talons into you. I did see it coming that first Christmas. Family. Tradition. It was so important to you all and I could never be part of that. I should have known that, sooner or later, Family would be more important to you than I could ever be. I should have realised that it would become important to you that we couldn’t have children. You could have children, but you couldn’t if you stayed married to me. Your mother was right after all.
Why did you tell her about me? When? How? I wish we could talk about the things that matter. But we have never done that have we? You’ve never believed that the ring was my Mum’s but you never talk about it. Your resentment just festers. You probably think the locket has some sordid explanation but I’ve never told you where it came from because you never asked. You’ve certainly never been brave enough to ask me why I can’t have children.
We never talk about anything that matters in our lives. We can’t speak about your so important, hush hush work at the Ministry of Defence and you’ve never told me anything about your father’s business and all those meetings you go to, all the papers you read, you never tell me anything. You never encouraged me to do anything other than look after you and the house. When I found an agent who believed in me and had begun to get some of my stuff published you didn’t once say you were proud of me. You didn’t once give me any encouragement. I’m as clever, as quick witted, as intelligent, as bright as you but you go to work and I stay at home doing the bloody gardening. Why don’t you understand how miserable that makes me? It’s as if you don’t trust me out in the big wide world. At least it seems like that.
Highly Unsuitable Girl Page 17
