Deep Water

by Tim Jeal

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Her voice trembled despite her efforts to be calm. This couldn’t mean the end of their affair. She wouldn’t let it. ‘He did it to wound me,’ she cried. ‘Remember how spiteful he was to Justin.’

  Mike shook his head slowly. ‘He risked his life to show how much he cared.’

  ‘Cared for what?’

  ‘For his father. For you two staying married.’ Mike’s resignation made Andrea’s stomach lurch. Stay calm; stop him saying things he may find hard to retract.

  ‘Do I have this right?’ she asked with a brave smile. ‘Leo will go on till he gets himself killed, unless I stop seeing you?’

  ‘That’s not my suggestion. Obviously he didn’t mean to get killed, only to make sure we end it. He won’t give up till we do.’

  ‘He returns to school Friday. What can he do then?’

  Mike looked at her with desperate sympathy. ‘You expect him to stay there meekly for a whole term – a boy who’s been under fire and seen men die?’

  Andrea could feel control spinning away from her. Her face paled. ‘Jesus Christ, Mike. He saw people die! I didn’t know that!’

  ‘I couldn’t tell you on the ’phone.’

  ‘Will he be scarred for life?’

  ‘I doubt it. Look at the way kids have coped with the bombing.’

  Filled with gratitude, she would have kissed his haggard face, if his manner hadn’t made her hold back. ‘I couldn’t have borne it if you’d died,’ she whispered.

  He kissed her quickly and then got up. ‘I’m afraid Leo posted a letter to his father the day before yesterday. He’ll be on a train by now.’

  ‘Don’t look like that, Mike. You can’t give in to him.’ She left the sofa and rested her head against her lover’s shoulder as he stood by the table. ‘Darling,’ she began confidently, ‘we were going to tell Peter anyway. That’s what you said you wanted. So what’s changed?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he sighed, touching her hair. ‘Maybe nothing. I’m too whacked to think straight.’

  ‘But you do think something’s changed.’ She heard the fear in her voice and was appalled by it.

  ‘I have to sleep a few hours. I’ve so much on my mind and can’t seem able to …’ He held his head in his hands.

  ‘Darling, of course you must sleep. You mustn’t think now. Please don’t. You’ll wake up feeling quite different. I know you will.’

  ‘Let’s see what happens when Peter and Leo have talked,’ he remarked almost to himself.

  ‘We’ll listen. Of course we will,’ she replied, shaken by his tone. ‘But, Mike, we don’t have to do what they want.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘You don’t sound sure.’ At last her self-command was deserting her. ‘It’s not fair to hide what you’re really thinking. It’s wrong to lie to me.’

  He turned away with a long sigh. ‘I’m really thinking I’ve a report to write, and letters to bereaved relatives. And thanks to Leo, I’m wondering how to avoid an inquiry.’ Exhausted and restrained, his voice seemed to scream ‘don’t press me’. But her anxiety was like a fever, banishing common sense; making her uncertainty seem unbearable. She had to know his thoughts, however exhausted he was.

  ‘Is this the end for us?’ she demanded, appalled that these dangerous words had left her lips.

  ‘I can’t go on with this now,’ he snapped, losing patience at last.

  ‘Darling,’ she insisted, ‘it’ll be too late to discuss things after Peter joins forces with Leo. They’ll tear us apart unless we have a plan.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Andrea. They’ll be more confused than we are.’

  He’s right, she thought, amazed to be convinced. ‘Peter’s a realist,’ she laughed. ‘He may even accept that our marriage is over. What else can he do?’ Her words seemed to fall between them, never reaching him.

  Mike walked slowly to the door. ‘I really have to sleep, Andrea. I’ll ’phone you around eight.’

  When he had driven away, Andrea stood on the path without moving. Through her tears, she saw the blood-red spears of peonies thrusting through the soil. How long had they been there, unnoticed by her? The apple blossom and the birdsong battered her senses as if she had been deaf and blind for days. She felt as though she were falling down a deep well.

  *

  Leo was sitting with Rose in the kitchen wondering how he could convince her he had been to France. But, so far, nothing he’d said had impressed her. And no report would appear in the papers to back him up. If he could have brought back wine, like Mike had that time, that would have made her sit up. Only there was no hope of getting a bottle from somewhere and pretending he’d brought it back with him. It was pretty hard to have nobody to boast to. A little admiration might have helped him forget some of the blood and guts.

  At least, chatting to Rose, he was briefly able to stop worrying about how awful it would be when his father turned up – and dad certainly would turn up if he’d read the letter. He would be sure to beg mum to stop seeing Mike, and she would definitely refuse, making poor dad feel even worse. But the thought that made Leo cry in front of Rose wasn’t to do with his father but was about the dying girl on the trawler. And then he found he couldn’t stop.

  ‘No call for that,’ Rose told him, coming to sit beside him at the kitchen table. ‘I don’t hold with boys being that miserable.’ And before he could get away, she was hugging him as if she was his mother; and though he knew that if anyone saw him like this, he would want the ground to open, he made no effort to push her off. And soon his sobs became shallower and less frequent, as if he was a child who’d been soothed after grazing a knee. Only with Rose he felt something else too: an extra nice sensation. He was savouring this feeling as a car drew up in the lane.

  Leo left the kitchen, and from the scullery door, saw his father paying the taxi driver. He looked so crumpled and unhappy that Leo wanted to ask his forgiveness for telling him about mum. But when Peter limped into the sitting room and sank into an armchair, he said nothing.

  His father muttered gruffly, ‘Run along and get me a glass of water.’

  Leo returned with a dripping tumbler which his father drained in a few gulps. As always in sunny weather, Peter looked hot and slightly bad tempered. Last week, in the papers, Leo had read a story about an army captain who had come home, and, finding his wife with another man, had shot them both. How scary it would be to have a dad who really might shoot someone dead. Peter produced a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.

  ‘It’s good to see you in one piece. The best sight in the world. But what a damned silly thing to do.’

  ‘I know, dad.’

  ‘Pull up that chair.’ Peter waited till Leo was sitting opposite. ‘What’s it all about? What did you see mum actually doing?’

  ‘She’ll admit if you ask her.’

  ‘Answer my question.’ His father’s irritation shook Leo.

  ‘Justin saw them kiss.’

  ‘Is that your evidence?’ Peter sounded stunned. ‘For God’s sake, boy, it could have been a peck on the cheek. Or Justin could have made it up.’

  Leo blushed deeply. ‘She’s been using her pessary thing.’

  Peter’s lips tightened in distaste. ‘You can’t know that, Leo.’

  ‘One day it was in the box, the next it wasn’t.’

  ‘There may be some perfectly innocent reason. And how come you were rooting about in her room in the first place?’

  Upset at being doubted, Leo said fiercely, ‘She took Justin’s bike at night.’

  ‘You saw her take it?’

  ‘The saddle had been raised.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘It was the bike Justin used.’

  ‘So Justin noticed it, not you?’

  ‘Yes,’ cried Leo, squirming when he saw his father’s sad and knowing smile.

  Peter reached out a hand, which Leo did not take. ‘I’m touched by your concern, really I am, but it wasn’t your p
lace to take things into your own hands without talking to me first. Even supposing you’re right about mum and Harrington, how do you know you haven’t made things worse by forcing a crisis? Mum’ll be back in Oxford by the end of next week and Harrington won’t be able to get away from here. It’s often best to leave well alone.’

  Leo felt tears pricking. ‘I couldn’t have let you go on not knowing.’

  Peter said sharply, ‘Just telling me would have been fine. You didn’t have to gate-crash a secret mission, too, endangering your own life and maybe other people’s. Whatever you think of Harrington personally, his work matters.’

  ‘I only tried to help you,’ gasped Leo, suddenly remembering what he should have told his father to start with. ‘Mike told me,’ he cried eagerly. ‘We were on the boat, and he said he loved mum.’

  Peter let out a long low breath. ‘What else did he say?’

  ‘That you can’t love mum like he does.’

  His father covered his face with his hands and Leo looked away. He heard him sniffling and then blowing his nose loudly.

  ‘Was Harrington unkind to you?’

  ‘He was too busy. We were attacked by Messerschmitts, dad, and he had to give all the orders, and even had to stick injections into wounded men. And when our engines were hit, he decided what to do.’

  Peter tried to smile. ‘He didn’t fix them, too, by any chance?’

  Leo shook his head, not realising his father had been attempting a mild joke. ‘The chief engineer did that.’ His father’s silence worried Leo. Perhaps he’d sounded too admiring.

  At last, Peter remarked dryly, ‘It’s ironic really, but you’ve probably saved his life, in the long term.’

  ‘Ha, ha, dad.’

  ‘I’m serious. Because you made mincemeat of his security procedures, he’ll be moved to other duties. A safe job on a destroyer. Something like that.’

  ‘He’ll get the sack?’ Leo was appalled. He had wanted to give Mike a shock and make him stop seeing mum, but not lose his job.

  ‘Secret operations can’t be compromised, Leo. Anyway, he won’t be too sorry to have a chance of surviving the war.’

  Leo was taken aback by his father’s bitterness. ‘Isn’t that good, dad?’

  ‘I imagine your mother will think so.’

  ‘I’ve made a total hash, is that it?’ Leo’s voice rose to a squeak. He was close to tears.

  ‘I’m afraid hash is no word for it.’ Leo had never seen his father look more downhearted. ‘What you’ve done is put mum in a position where she’ll have to choose between him and me. Do you fancy my chances?’

  Leo was silent for a while. ‘I could refuse to live with her if she chooses him.’

  ‘Sweet of you. But no good, I’m afraid. Even if you make her feel guilty enough to stay with me for a time, it won’t last.’

  They both stared at the window as they heard the sound of an approaching car. The expression of anguish on his father’s face was too much for Leo. ‘Don’t worry, dad. I really think she’ll choose you in the end.’

  ‘I wouldn’t choose me,’ muttered Peter, searching his pockets for a comb. When Leo knew what he was looking for, he ran upstairs to fetch his own. Peter was using it as Andrea entered the room.

  ‘Peter! I thought you’d be on a later train.’ She sounded shocked and painfully nervous. ‘I haven’t had time to think – to decide what to do.’

  Peter sat up very straight on the sofa. ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  Peter sagged. Leo wondered how his father could have endured asking that question. Now that mum had given her answer, nothing could ever be how it had been. Perhaps dad was thinking this, too, because he looked terrible.

  When Andrea said gently, ‘You needn’t stay, Leo sweetheart,’ he realised that he must have been staring at his father in a grief-stricken sort of way.

  ‘It’s up to you, old chap,’ said Peter.

  ‘I’ll stay,’ he mumbled, and then started crying, though he hadn’t known he would, even a moment earlier. He wanted to hug his mother and beg her to stay with them, but his father’s calmness stopped him. Looking at his mother, with her hair loose on her shoulders, Leo knew she was beautiful. He hadn’t always known it, but he could see it very clearly today. She was wearing her dress with the pattern of splotchy flowers that he had used to think was too low round the neck, but which was really just right.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Peter asked Andrea, as if inquiring about her plans for the evening.

  ‘I may not want what Mike wants.’

  Peter said sharply, ‘I asked what you want.’

  ‘I’d prefer we talk later,’ she replied, avoiding Peter’s eyes.

  ‘You should tell him right now,’ Leo burst out, sensing her weakness.

  ‘Why, darling?’

  ‘Because we don’t want to wait. Because it’s cruel to make us.’

  ‘I didn’t want to say things till I knew they’d happen for sure. And I can’t be certain till Mike and I talk some more. But I can tell you what may happen next. I guess I’d like to teach in Oxford weekdays and be with Mike weekends, if he can see me. I’d like you to be with me weekdays in your holidays, Leo, and with dad weekends.’

  Leo looked at her in amazement. ‘Where does dad go? Doesn’t he come home now?’

  ‘He’s away a whole lot already, darling.’

  ‘If dad can’t come home, I won’t either.’

  ‘Mum’s right about me being away lots,’ said Peter in a level reasonable voice.

  The sight of his father pretending everything was fine, when it wasn’t, was too much for Leo. ‘Don’t give in, dad,’ he gasped. ‘You should fight for her.’

  ‘Duels aren’t legal these days, old chap.’

  ‘They blooming should be,’ shouted Leo, suddenly beside himself. Why couldn’t his father refuse to do what mum wanted? Why wouldn’t he tell her how miserable she was making him? Otherwise, how would she know?

  ‘You’re disgusting,’ he shouted at his mother. ‘I don’t know why he cares.’

  ‘Please, Leo,’ pleaded Peter. ‘It won’t help me.’

  ‘I don’t want to see you, ever,’ cried Leo, pointing a finger at his mother, like a witch doctor.

  Before he reached the door, he could see he had upset her. Her mouth was open and her lips had gone floppy. She looked ugly, the way people did when they were about to cry but the sound hadn’t come out yet.

  Outside the door, Leo cannoned into Rose, whose ear had been applied to the keyhole. She caught him by the arm. ‘You listen now, Master Leo. Do ’ee wan’ to live with her? Because, after what ’ee said, she won’ think so. She’ll think ’ee won’ mind if she lives with who she wants. You should caterwaul and cling if you wan’ to keep her home with you and your dad.’

  So, when his mother came to his room, Leo clutched at her legs and begged her to stay. He didn’t look up, so wasn’t sure if he’d impressed her. But when she’d gone out, he discovered some dark marks, a bit like tear drops, on his shirt.

  CHAPTER 21

  Mike had called Andrea at the time he had promised he would, and had explained that he would have to stay in Falmouth overnight. So she had driven the fifteen miles around the river, and had come to him. Leaving her car near the Green Bank Hotel, she walked down the hill to meet him on Prince of Wales Pier. The narrow streets were crowded with sailors, dockyard workers and local women going to market.

  It was early evening and light rain was filtering down from a pewter sky. Mike was late, and so Andrea wandered onto the concrete pier. She could feel the rain on her cheeks and imagined it in her hair, as on the day when they had first kissed. Knowing how crucial this meeting would be for their future together, she felt breathless with nerves. Scarcely noticed by her, the grey-green water splashed against the pier’s supports, spewing up cigarette packs, half-eaten sandwiches and bobbing bottles. Predatory gulls screeched overhead. An excursion steamer with a red funnel – evidently pr
essed into naval service – was taking on board a crowd of sailors, to return them to the great grey warship in the harbour.

  When Andrea spotted Mike getting out of a black sedan, her legs shook. He put on his hat, and strode briskly towards her, an anonymous figure in his uniform. Arm in arm, they walked together to an hotel, exchanging self-conscious small talk en route. To have spoken about Leo and Peter in the street would have been unthinkable.

  As Mike approached a building, set at an angle to the street, and pushed open a heavy glazed door, Andrea’s heart started to race. The hotel already. Soon she would know what he wanted. From the corner of her eye, she saw little clipped trees in tubs, a red-carpeted entrance. He led the way across an almost empty lounge, from which guests were leaving for the dining room, and guided her into a deserted bar with panelled walls. Only when Mike had settled her into a brass-studded leather armchair and put a highball in her hand did Andrea gaze directly at his face. He had taken off his hat and looked drained and vulnerable. Sitting back in a chair identical to hers, he seemed further away than the physical distance between them.

  ‘Darling,’ she whispered, ‘what’s wrong?’

  He put down his glass, and raised a hand to his brow. ‘I’ve been given the boot. Leo isn’t to blame. My crime was losing a ship and eight lives, including two agents. So it’s curtains for my lot.’

  ‘That’s so unjust, Mike. The people who sent you are to blame, too.’

  ‘That’s not how they see it.’

  ‘What will you do now, darling?’

  ‘I’ve asked to go back to gunboats on the East Coast.’

  To ease his depression, she smiled encouragingly. ‘The East Coast’s much nearer to Oxford than Cornwall, sweetheart.’

  Unexpectedly, Mike grasped one of her hands. ‘Did Peter come down this morning? I’m so sorry I didn’t ask sooner.’

  ‘He did. And he’s being embarrassingly nice about everything.’

  Mike nodded to himself, as if this was what he had feared. ‘It’s a ploy to give his lawyer more time.’