by Mary Wesley
Hugh watched her drink more wine. Presently she went on.
‘We decided we would leave no mess behind, nothing for the children to quarrel over. We would leave no messages, we would not let them know us once we were dead. Our children were not interested in how we had lived or felt, so our letters – when we were in love we wrote many letters, people did – we would destroy them. If they are ever interested it will be too late, we said.’
‘Rather nasty of you.’
‘D’you think so? We didn’t mean it, well, he didn’t. Tom was not a petty person. I am. I would have liked the children to have been interested in us but they were only interested in Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud.’
‘Are they interesting people?’
‘To themselves, certainly.’
Hugh was afraid he had interrupted the flow but Matilda went on.
‘Sex had a lot to do with it. We thought when sex was no longer fun, no longer essential, we would push off. The great thing for us was to go together, to time it right. Our death must come while we still slept well, ate without indigestion, still made love, while, in Muriel Spark’s words we were still “in possession of our faculties”.’ She sipped her wine, holding the glass with both hands, her head raised, listening to the thunder. ‘We were not prepared to put up with terminal illnesses. It seemed to us that the responsible thing was to end our lives at the right moment, go while the going’s good.’
‘Responsible?’
‘Yes. Socially responsible in the same way as birth control.’
‘Wasn’t it selfish?’
‘Certainly not. We planned to save other people trouble as well as ourselves. It was unselfish.’
‘I see your point.’
‘There were other things. We planned not to have another dog or cat when ours died.’ Matilda cast an irritated eye toward Folly sitting facing the Rayburn, ears cocked, listening. She sighed and made a defeated gesture.
‘Suddenly Tom died without me, before we were ready, while we still –’
‘Still?’
‘Still were enjoying life. We weren’t ready. I should have swallowed my pills then, looked sharp about it. But I have betrayed him. I’m still here, damn it.’
‘You were about to have a stab at it last night.’
‘You deflate me, mock me. It wasn’t just a stab, it was the real thing. I had tidied myself away. In my mind I was as good as dead.’
‘Okay. What about Gus? What about that heroic bird coming back to find an empty house?’
‘It never occurred to me that he would.’
‘And it never occurred to you and Tom that he would drop dead in the rue Jacob, did it? A fine pair, I must say.’ Hugh drank his wine, refilled Matilda’s glass.
‘You are detestable.’
‘And I murdered my mother.’
‘How much do you mind?’
‘It’s difficult to say.’
‘Why?’
‘She wasn’t particularly happy. She never had been satisfied with anything. She was a frightened person –’
‘I bet she was, with you about to bash her to death.’
‘It wasn’t me she was afraid of, it was –’
From the scullery Gus set up a loud honking. There was a rat-tat-tat at the door. Matilda gestured toward the inner door. Hugh went through to the hall where he stood, heart thumping. Folly barked shrilly.
‘Who is it?’ Matilda shouted.
‘Only me, Mrs Pollyput, only me. Constable Luce.’
‘She did betray me,’ thought Hugh. ‘The crafty bitch, keeping me talking, telling me that tripey tale.’
‘Came to see if you are all right, been a power cut in the valley.’
‘Here too.’ Matilda sounded cool. ‘Come in. Like some coffee?’
‘Powerful honk that gander’s got. He’s a good watchdog.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘Got a new dog I see.’
‘Yes, I licensed her today. Coffee? Tea? Wine? I’ll get another glass.’
‘No, thank you. I must be on my way. Just wanted to see you were all right, you living all alone here. Must be lonely.’
‘I love it.’
‘So they tell me. My wife wouldn’t do it. She thinks you’re brave.’
‘Or mad perhaps.’
‘No, no, what an idea –’
‘My children think I’m crazy.’
‘Do they? Well, it’s for you to suit yourself isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Nice little dog. She’s only a puppy.’
‘She might be. I got a licence to be on the safe side.’
‘Sensible that.’
‘I’ve always been scared of you since you caught me with the car untaxed.’
‘It was duty. I was sorry to do it so soon after Mr Pollyput’s death.’
‘That’s what made me forget. Sure you won’t have a drink?’
‘No thank you, Mrs Pollyput. I must be going. I was going to call in on Mr Jones.’
‘He’ll be hiding under the bed.’
The constable laughed.
‘Goodnight,’ Matilda called, watching the policeman get back into his car. She shut the door. ‘You can come back now, he’s gone.’
They sat again at the table. Hugh refilled their glasses. ‘I took mine out of the room with me.’ He glanced at her sidelong.
‘How clever. I didn’t think of it. I offered him wine.’
‘I heard you.’
‘Where were we?’
‘You were telling me about your well-planned death with Tom after your successful loving life together.’
‘You sound acid.’
‘Did you love him?’
‘Of course I loved him. There was never anyone else. He was my first and only love.’ As she spoke a puzzled expression flitted momentarily across her face.
‘What is it?’
‘Something I can’t remember.’
‘Another man?’
‘I don’t know. How odd. How strange. Why should I suddenly think –’
‘What?’
‘Some tussle, a sort of thrill. Good Lord, I can’t remember. It must be something I’ve heard or read. It wasn’t me, one of the girls perhaps or a friend. Something happened at a party in Bloomsbury. Not important.’
Hugh didn’t believe her.
‘Where did you meet Tom?’
‘At a party in Kensington.’
‘And you fell in love and lived happily ever after.’
‘Yes.’
Hugh tipped his chair back and laughed.
‘It’s not possible to believe.’
‘Why not?’ Matilda snapped. ‘Ask around, ask our friends.’
‘No need,’ said Hugh. ‘It’s a good story but it won’t wash.’
Matilda looked blank.
‘A person like you,’ explained Hugh, ‘with a happy past, nothing but lovely memories does not just walk into the sea.’
‘I should have thought it rounded everything off nicely,’ Matilda now was sour.
‘Either,’ said Hugh, watching her, ‘you had a happy surface life, even deceiving yourself, or you didn’t care except for your animals.’
‘What!’ Matilda almost spat at him.
‘I’ve seen you with Gus. That’s genuine feeling. You are trying not to let yourself love Folly here.’
‘I shan’t.’
‘There you go. So passionate.’
‘Well, animals –’ Matilda left her sentence airborne.
‘Animals are easier to love than human beings. Animals give you their whole heart, animals don’t betray. Shall I go on?’
‘No. I think I shall get us some supper.’
Hugh watched her moving about the kitchen, laying the table, preparing vegetables, rubbing garlic onto steak, grinding the pepper mill.
‘I believe your Tom had somebody else in Paris.’ Hugh watched the hands twisting the pepper pot.
‘Oh no.’
‘I suppose yes. Why do
n’t we tell one another the truth? We met near Death, why don’t we tell the truth as good Catholics do on their deathbeds?’
‘It would be original.’ She put down the pepper pot.
‘So he had someone else in Paris.’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘You could have done something – gone with him, murdered the girl. I’m supposing she was younger than you.’
‘Much younger.’
‘He would have got over it. Did you know her?’
‘Yes. Yes. I thought so.’
‘So?’
‘I did murder someone once.’ Matilda looked at Hugh across the table. ‘I never think of it. It was so quick.’
‘So why not the girl in Paris?’ Hugh wondered if this crazy woman who looked like a bird was lying.
‘One could never kill one’s own child.’ Matilda’s voice was low.
‘Was it Anabel?’ Hugh felt shock.
‘Louise.’ Matilda put the steaks under the grill.
‘I thought she was happily married,’ Hugh said stupidly.
‘I never said happy. She was only happy fucking with her father. You like your steak rare?’
‘Rare, please.’ He breathed in hard.
‘And do you like French mustard or more Truth with your steak?’
‘I should like mustard and the story of the murder you did commit.’
‘All right, as we are into Truth. It’s not as interesting as incest.’
‘But longer ago?’
‘Much longer ago, almost forgotten.’
11
WHEN THE TELEPHONE rang Matilda lifted the receiver and listened, her jaws working on a mouthful. Hugh listened too.
‘Hullo?’
‘Matilda, your phone was out of order.’
‘There’s been a storm. What do you want, John?’
‘Piers.’
‘Look, I’ve never called you Piers in my life. What is this?’
‘My name is Piers. Call me Piers.’
‘Okay. What do you want?’
‘I’ve got to go away. I want to know if you are coming to London.’
‘I might.’ She swallowed the steak and held the receiver away from her ear. Hugh listened to the pedantic voice at the other end.
‘Do make up your mind.’
‘I can stay somewhere else.’
‘You always stay here. I’d like to see you.’
‘That’s nice of you, John.’
‘Don’t tease. When are you coming?’
‘I’ll think. I’ll let you know. I have to arrange for the animals.’
‘I thought the dog and cat were dead.’
‘They are. Their names were Stub and Prissy, John. They had names.’
‘Well then? Come on, Matty, don’t dither.’
‘I’m not even going to try to call you Piers if you call me Matty.’
‘Sorry, Matilda.’
‘I’ll let you know. I’ll phone.’ She grinned. ‘You wouldn’t exactly call this an adult conversation, would you? Think what it’s costing you, Piers. Goodnight.’ She put down the receiver. ‘I can fetch your money if you like. How would that be?’ she asked Hugh.
‘Marvellous.’
‘Will you tell me where it is?’
‘Yes.’
‘My steak’s cold. Damn! I’ll give it to Fol-de-rol.’ She cut the meat into small pieces.
‘You were going to tell me about your murder.’
‘So I was. It will give you a hold over me perhaps. John “Piers” knows about it.’ She fed the bits of steak to Folly who took each piece delicately.
‘Did your husband know?’
‘No, come to think of it, he didn’t. It never arose. Only John knows.’
‘What happened?’
‘It was that terrible winter after the war. You’d be too young to remember.’
‘I don’t. My mother talked of it.’
‘I was nineteen, just married. First love. Marvellous. So great it hurt, every nerve raw with love. We had rushed into love, into marriage, headlong. It was gorgeous. I was pregnant with Louise. We were the only people in the world. Then I found he’d had this woman. She was older than him. She was all the things I wasn’t. Well dressed, well read, travelled, sophisticated, good looking, sexy, funny, educated. She never let go of anyone she had once had. Once hers he was hers for evermore. She tormented me, showed me up naïve, unsure, inexperienced, unsafe. Tom used to laugh, said she didn’t matter, never had, but I could see there was still a bit left over. If she jerked the lead he’d go back. I saw her do it to other men. Their girls could do nothing.’ Matilda made a cross with her knife on a smear of butter. She seemed far away.
‘What happened?’
‘What? Oh! Yes, what happened. London was thick with snow. I was trying to get home to Chelsea from Marble Arch. All the buses were full. I couldn’t get a taxi. It was dark, freezing hard, snowing, the ducks standing about on the ice. The snow blotted everything out. I walked through the park. Then, as I walked along the Serpentine towards Knightsbridge barracks, there she was. We were nose to nose in the snow. She laughed when she saw me. Her face lit up with pleasure. “My Tom’s little wifey,” she said. “Does he let you out alone?”’
Matilda laid her knife and fork side by side and looked across at Hugh. ‘It annoyed me.’
‘So?’ He studied her face while she paused.
‘So I hit her.’ Matilda was now back there, standing in the snow by the Serpentine. ‘I hit her as hard as I could. She was taller than me. She slipped down the edge onto the ice, tried to get her balance, slid on out, then, crack, she went through, disappeared.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I waited for her to pop up but she didn’t. I suppose she went sideways under the ice. I ran all the way to John’s house. He lived off Sloane Street in those days. He was in when I banged on the door. I told him what I’d done. He’d just got in, he was shaking the snow off his bowler and swishing his umbrella. I remember that clearly. He’s a fussy old bachelor, wants me to call him Piers now. It suits him, his new job. He’s hoping to get a knighthood. Sir Piers would be grander than Sir John. I tease him.’
‘What did he do?’ Hugh suppressed a longing to kick her shins.
‘Oh. He made me sit down, gave me a stiff brandy, listened to what happened, then said I was not to tell Tom, ever. He asked me if anyone had seen it happen. I didn’t think so. It was snowing so hard I couldn’t see more than a few yards, in fact I’d hardly seen her fall through the ice, I only really heard it. Well,’ she stood up, ‘that’s all. John took me home to Tom in his car, said he’d overtaken me in the street. Tom was pleased to see me. I cooked dinner. It was steak, I remember that, black market. It was delicious.’
Hugh allowed the pause to lengthen.
‘I suppose the snow covered your footprints.’
‘I suppose it did.’
‘When was she found?’
‘When it thawed, weeks later. Tom read it in the paper at breakfast. He said, “Oh look, old Duplex is dead. Found drowned in the Serpentine.” Old Duplex was her pet name, her real name was Felicity.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I can’t remember. I remember it being quite obvious he didn’t care one way or the other so I had no remorse.’
‘And Sir Piers?’
‘He’s like the grave. He’s never referred to it. Funny fellow.’
‘Was he in love with you?’
‘John? He’s not capable of love. He’s cold.’
‘The police?’
‘John clammed up and I forgot all about it. I’ve never told anyone until now.’
‘It’s a good story.’
‘Yes,’ said Matilda kindly, ‘a good story. You see, anybody can commit murder. It’s chance really.’ She could see Hugh didn’t believe her or was uncertain.
‘You are uncertain of my veracity.’
‘A bit. It seems odd you should meet this Felicity woman alone in Hyde Park in th
e snow.’
‘Not really. She used to follow me to make me feel uncomfortable. One never knew when or where she would appear. She did it to other women whose husbands had lain with her. It was her hobby to make us feel insecure. John told me. I remember now when he gave me the brandy he said, “A lot of girls will be the happier. You must not let it worry you. Promise.” I’d forgotten that. I promised – put it right out of my mind.’
‘Can you do that? Put things aside.’
‘One has to.’ Matilda looked bleak. ‘I put Louise aside. How else could I have gone on living with Tom? He needed me, I needed him and Louise –’ Her voice trailed, leaving Louise up in the air. She got up and began clearing the table.
‘Let’s have some coffee and you tell me where your money is hidden. I’ll stay a night or two with John and fetch it for you. Is it somewhere difficult to get at?’
‘No, it’s under the carpet on the staircase up to my flat.’
‘For everyone to tread on?’
‘Yes.’ Hugh smiled.
Matilda’s laugh rang out in delight.
‘How original.’
‘It was my brother’s idea, some of it is his. Tax evasion.’
‘So he –’
‘No, he won’t. My mother had just heard he was missing in Guerrilla country.’
‘Dead?’
‘For his sake one hopes so.’
‘Oh, Guerillas/Gorillas. Your poor mother. Maybe I’m right, she was lucky. Did she love him?’
‘He was her whole life.’
‘There you are then, you did the right thing.’
‘She could have loved me more.’
‘Too big a risk, I think.’ He could see Matilda’s thoughts straying where he could not follow. ‘No more risks for me.’ Her face was dead-pan. ‘Bed for me. We can plan your future tomorrow. I will ring up the soon-to-be Sir Piers and tell him I’m coming.’
‘But –’
‘We’ve had enough for one day.’ Hugh watched her trail up the stairs. Folly stayed with him until he too climbed up the stairs and, while he took off his clothes, she turned several times around, pulling the duvet into a lump with her paws, waiting for him to get into bed. He held her close to his chest, stroking the silky ears while he tried not to think of Matilda’s pain. The dog sighed, breathing warm air into his neck while he lay sleepless, listening to the summer night. He wondered whether Matilda considered God, as his mother professed to do, or whether Death was her only certainty where there would no longer be the possibility of love dying? And did she love Louise, Mark, Anabel and Claud? She had loved her husband. Her voice altered when she spoke the name Claud. He would study it if he had time perhaps. Blood relationships inclined to surprise when there was the inability to communicate.
