A Bouquet of Barbed Wire, page 18
‘I’m sorry. I’d like to.’
‘Yes, I know. But you don’t get the chance, do you? It’s all wives and daughters and work and trains. Oh, nothing to complain about and I’m not complaining.’
‘Aren’t you?’ he said.
‘Well.’ She considered. ‘Okay, so it’s great in bed and we make jokes and you take me out to dinner. But so what? That doesn’t tell you what makes me cry in the night.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Do you cry in the night?’
She smiled. ‘You wouldn’t know, would you?’ She thought of Geoff, and the car, and his arm round her as she fell asleep.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘it’s not my fault.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘of course not.’
‘Look, I will do something about this. I promise. Just give me time.’
28
GAVIN WAS actually laughing as he came through the door. ‘Boy, do I have something to tell you. I had lunch with Sue and Victor—you should have come—it was great.’
Prue was curled up in a chair. She said moodily, ‘I had lunch with Dad.’
‘So why aren’t you radiant? Didn’t you get the full Mirabelle bit?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘So?’
‘I don’t know. He was in a funny mood. Not himself somehow. I don’t know what it was. As if—he didn’t want to be with me.’ She felt her eyes pricking again as they had done all afternoon, and blinked rapidly.
Gavin laughed again. ‘Well, maybe he didn’t at that.’
She stared at him. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Honey, you’re not listening. I said I had something to tell you.’
‘What?’ She spoke sulkily.
‘Okay, be like that. I guarantee this will make you sit up. Sue wasn’t the only person with a key to this flat in our absence.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Ah, I knew that’d get you.’
‘Gavin, what do you mean?’
Gavin flopped into a chair opposite her and laughed at her consternation. ‘I said you’d sit up, didn’t I?’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. What d’you mean? Someone else was here? Who? Was anything taken? Who could have a key?’
‘Relax, honey, it wasn’t burglars. Just a couple of people using the bed. Sue walked right in on them when she came to water the plants. Gave her quite a shock but gave them a bigger one. Scrambling into their clothes, she said, guilty as hell. Middle-aged man and a young girl.’
Prue said slowly, ‘I don’t understand. How could anyone but us have a key?’
‘Put it another way. Who but us is likely to have a key?’
Prue frowned. ‘The porter? The previous tenants? The cops?’
‘You’re not concentrating, hon. Let me spell it out for you. Who is the person most likely to have a key to our flat? Who would want to feel free to walk in at any time? Who would want to feel it doesn’t really belong to us—and Christ knows it doesn’t, we never paid for the lease—that’s right, now you’ve got it.’
‘Gavin, no.’
‘Gavin, yes. I think. Sorry about that, baby. But don’t look so shocked. The poor old guy’s only human after all. What’s so terrible about that? Did you think he wasn’t?’
Prue uncoiled her legs from the chair very slowly and placed them on the ground so that she was sitting stiff and square, facing Gavin, her hands around the bulge as if to protect it. She said, ‘Look, have I got this straight? You’re saying … my father was here with a girl. You’re saying he’s had a key to this flat all along and when we went away he brought a girl here and—’
‘Screwed her on our bed, yes, that’s what I’m saying. And Sue caught them at it—or damn nearly.’
Prue said, ‘No.’
‘What d’you mean no?’
‘It could have been anyone.’
‘Oh yes. Like the porter—have you taken a look at him lately? Like the cops—very likely—bet it happens all the time. Like the previous tenants—well, we met them didn’t we? Sure, it could have been anyone.’
‘You want to believe it was him, don’t you?’
‘Well, it’s a great new angle on a dreary subject.’
‘You hate him.’
‘I don’t hate him, honey, he just bores the ass off me, that’s all. I’m full up to here with his sanctimonious shit about your spotless purity and my filthy lust, when you were the randiest thing this side of L.A. and practically tore my pants off. Not that I objected, that I grant you. But he sure got a screwed-up version of our courtship, as it were, that’s for sure. I don’t hate him. In fact this makes me like him better. Shows the old guy’s got some life left in him after all; I thought maybe he was jealous ‘cos his balls had dropped off. Only thing I wish is he wasn’t such a bloody hypocrite. He bawls me out all over the place and then he comes screwing in my bed.’ He began to laugh again. ‘Say, I bet that gave him quite a kick. I bet he thought about me screwing you the whole time. Or pretended that girl was you. Yeah.’
Prue put her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’ Tears were burning her eyes and yet at the same time she felt so unbearably stimulated that she could hardly keep still.
‘Baby, have I upset you?’ Gavin came across and put his hand on her knee. She trembled violently. ‘Oh, like that, is it? Too much talk. Too many dirty words. Well, now, what shall we do about that?’
He undressed her slowly while she moaned softly but did not help him. ‘Well, you are randy, aren’t you? Bet your Dad’d like to see you now.’ He stroked her. ‘Oh yes. He’d love that.’
She went beserk, clutching and clawing at him, and both to control and heighten her pleasure he gave her as much pain as she wanted, being careful to remember the baby and not to hurt her there. The floor became a battle ground. When they had finished they were both soaked in sweat. They had left the electric fire full on.
‘Wow,’ said Gavin presently, rolling over and switching it off, ‘let’s keep it a secret or they’ll all want some. Cigarette, hon?’
‘No.’
He lit one for himself.
Prue waited till the baby, disturbed by all the activity, had stopped moving. She was still not used to the sensation and found it hard to speak while concentrating on it. ‘Gavin, you weren’t kidding, were you, just now? About somebody being here.’
‘No. Sue really did see them.’
‘What did they look like?’
‘Well, she said the guy was tall, middle-aged, grey hair. Quite good-looking she said. Left his jacket in here with an Eliot and Manson catalogue sticking out of the pocket. No, really. Corny but true.’
Prue said slowly, ‘What was the girl like?’
‘Why? Don’t tell me you know her? Or are you just curious about your rival?’ He tapped ash in the grate.
‘Did Sue describe her?’
‘Yeah, well, she said she was small and pretty with blonde hair, that’s all. And a startled expression, but I guess that’s not permanent. Not much to go on.’
‘It’s enough.’
‘You do know her.’
‘I met her this morning.’
‘What?’
Prue eased herself into a sitting position and leaned against the chair; she began putting on her clothes again. ‘She’s his secretary.’
For about ten seconds Gavin’s face was a superb study of amazement and shock. Even his mouth formed a perfect round which Prue viewed with the same detached pleasure as a successful smoke ring. Then he burst out laughing. ‘Oh no. But I thought his secretary was a dog.’
‘That was Monica. She left. This is the new one. Sarah Francis. We disliked each other on sight; now I know why.’
Gavin ground out his unfinished cigarette. ‘Boy, oh boy, what a gas. What a pity we can’t share the joke. Isn’t that always the way—the best stories are always the ones you can’t spread around.’
Prue got up carefully and finished dressing. She opened her bag and started to comb her hair. ‘Why not?’
He stared at her. ‘Why not? Do you want a story like that all over school—well, do you? I swore Sue and Victor to secrecy and they haven’t told anyone. It’s got to stop there.’
Prue said coolly, ‘I didn’t mean college. Of course not; I quite agree. There’s only one person who ought to be told.’
‘Oh, now honey ..’
‘I mean it.’
‘You mean—your mother?’
‘Yes. That’s who I mean.’
‘You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘No.’
They faced each other, very cold and still.
‘You want to tell your mother. Have I got that right?’
‘Yes.’
Silence. ‘Do you have a reason? Or are you just plain out of your mind?’
Prue shook her head. ‘I think she ought to know.’
‘Why?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Why? Go on, tell me. Just to be bloody-minded, that’s all, isn’t it? Hell, what’s the matter with you? You’ve caught your old man with his pants down—okay—isn’t that enough for you? So what did your mother ever do to you that you have to rub her nose in it too? Huh? Tell me that. You’d actually do a thing like that to get back at your Dad because he objected to me knocking you up. Christ, honey, you must be sick.’
‘It’s not that at all.’ Prue’s mouth made a thin little line.
‘Then what is it? Go on, tell me; I’m interested. This more than makes up for that Psych, course I missed. So it’s not revenge—then what is it?’
Prue said tightly, ‘Justice.’
He laughed. ‘Oh yeah? And just who are you to start dispensing that doubtful commodity? And how does it differ from revenge, tell me that? And even if it’s justice for your Dad, which I question, how come it’s justice for your mother too? You can’t have it both ways, that’s for sure.’
‘He should have thought of that before.’
‘He should! Oh, that’s great. Who are you to sling mud at your Dad?’
‘He slung mud at me fast enough.’
‘Sure. He’s your father. That’s kind of a right parents have. Like we’ll sling mud at Junior if he steps out of line. It’s kind of to compensate for buying the food and paying the rent. It’s like the balance of nature. And it just doesn’t work both ways.’
Prue stared at him, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re on his side. Just because he’s a man you stick up for him.’
Gavin slammed his hand on the table, making it shake. ‘Christ Almighty! I’m sticking up for your mother as well. More, if anything, because she’s the one you’d be hurting most. Look, have you thought about this at all? Either she doesn’t know and you’ll be telling her and hurting her, badly, (are you listening?) or she does know and she’s trying to ignore it and you’ll be humiliating her by saying you know as well. Now, do you want to do either of those things? Do you really think that’s justice? If you’re out to punish your Dad tell him, not your mother. That’s quite sick enough. You don’t need to punish her too.’
‘I’m not trying to punish anyone.’
‘Not much you aren’t. Christ, I don’t get it. What’s so terrible if your Dad has a girl-friend? It happens all the time. And it’s just not your business.’
Suddenly Prue started to cry. ‘He’s supposed to be faithful.’
‘Who to—you or your mother? Look, you can’t have it both ways. You nearly throw up when I say he’d like to screw you, but the moment he screws someone else, wham, you’re after his blood.’
Prue was sobbing freely. ‘He’s got Mummy. She’s lovely. He doesn’t need … he doesn’t have to …’
Gavin lit a cigarette and tossed the match on the floor. ‘Balls. Don’t give me that eyewash. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again. Every man does. Plenty of women too. Maybe your mother even. Why should she be a saint? And we’ll do it, too. Oh, not now, not yet, maybe not for years. But we will. You can’t seriously think we’re going to be faithful to each other till the day we die.’
She said in a small voice, choking through sobs, ‘We promised we would.’
‘Oh, Prue. Promises are for kids.’
‘No.’
‘Yes, they are. Promises like that anyway. Like swearing blood brothers with the kid next door. No adult can look at another adult and guarantee to feel the same for ever and ever. It’s just not possible. And no adult would ever expect it, either.’
‘But we did. We said it. When we got married—’
‘Yeah, I know. But that was kind of emotional. Like it’s something you feel at the time, not something you know as a fact. Like I might say you’re the most beautiful girl in the world—’
‘But you never have.’
‘Well, like I might say Beethoven was my favourite composer. Sure I’d mean it. Only next week it could be Mozart. What do I know? You say it and you mean it, sure, at the time, but people change. Come on, Prue. You know they do. What about those guys you had before me?’
‘I wasn’t in love with them. And stop trying to change the subject.’
‘What subject? That’s all settled. You’re not going to tell your mother, that’s all. What you say to your father is up to you but you’re not going to tell your mother because if you do I’ll knock your head off, that’s all.’ He smiled very amiably. ‘So you see? The subject is closed.’
29
MANSON SAID, ‘Well, this is it. What d’you think? Go on, have a look round.’ He lit a cigarette; he was surprised to find himself actually nervous. If she did not like the flat … if she should resent his acting without consulting her …
Sarah walked from room to room. It did not take long: the flat was tiny. Two inter-communicating rooms, kitchen and bath. But it was very white and well-furnished, and high up, in a quiet street with a view of trees and roof-tops. She liked it at once but she was too surprised—and somehow also alarmed—to speak. So she just went on walking round the rooms, saying nothing and looking at things. Lots of things were so nice she might have chosen them herself. But she had not.
‘It’s five minutes from the office,’ he said. ‘I timed it. So you’ll save on fares.’
‘Enough to pay the increase in rent?’ she asked lightly, finding her voice.
He felt himself flushing. What was the matter with her? Wasn’t this what she had been angling for? ‘Of course not. That’s all taken care of.’
She turned her back on him to look out of the window. She said, ‘You’re setting me up.’
There was unmistakable hostility, even suspicion, in the words which he forced himself to ignore, saying, ‘That’s one way of putting it. I thought I was just making it easier for us to meet.’
Silence. She gazed out of the window with absorbed attention.
‘Look, you don’t even have to live in it,’ he went on. ‘We can just … come here. But I thought a single room would be sordid, that’s all.’
She said, ‘But you can’t pay all this rent if I don’t live here.’
‘That’s not the point. Would you like to live here?’
She turned round, frowning. ‘You mean money’s no object all of a sudden? Business is booming, I’m getting a raise?’
He stubbed out his cigarette in a clean ashtray and sat down. He felt tired. The whole thing was misfiring badly. He said, ‘I thought you’d be pleased. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.’
All at once she rushed over to him and hugged him, hard. It was actually quite painful, his ear pressed against the buckle of her dress. ‘No, you didn’t, it’s lovely. I love it.’ She kissed the top of his head. Familiar gesture, Prue or his mother, maybe both; not Cassie though.
‘Are you sure?’ he said, disentangling himself.
‘Yes. It just gave me a shock. It seemed so Victorian, somehow—or professional—being set up in a flat. No one’s ever done that for me before.’
‘I should hope not indeed,’ he said with mock severity. But he thought at the same time how true it was that he knew very little about her, and he was chilled by the thought. ‘It’s vacant—you can move in any time you like,’ he added quickly to stop her picking up wavelengths. ‘I’ve only got to sign the lease.’
‘You have?’
‘Well …’ He hesitated, not knowing how to put it.
‘Oh yes, of course. Because you’ll be paying the rent.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just how these things are done. Don’t let it bother you.’
She smiled an odd little smile. ‘How long is the lease?’
He wished he did not have to answer that. ‘Six months.’
‘Oh.’
‘Well, initially six months that is, then automatically renewable if you don’t set the place on fire.’
‘I see.’
He said, ‘It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a formality.’
‘Yes.’ But she could not help thinking that it meant a limit to their relationship, that he had had to think in terms of time. To cover the unworthiness of this thought she said, ‘It’s funny, d’you know, I’d actually started looking at bedsitters. Only you don’t get much for four pounds, which is all I pay for my share of the flat. I wasn’t joking. It’d be cheaper to give me a rise. Anyway, here’s what I’d like to do. If I move in here I’ll pay you four pounds a week towards the rent.’
He wanted to say, ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ but she wasn’t, she had sudden dignity and he was embarrassed to argue with her. He said, ‘Is that what you really want to do?’
‘Yes.’ She turned away, fiddling with a lampshade. “That’s the only way I can do it. It wouldn’t work for me otherwise. Every Friday I shall pretend you’re my landlord, okay?’
‘You really are extraordinarily independent, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I shall never get on in the world, my mother’s often told me.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
* * *
When she got back to the office she cried in the lavatory. Part of her was elated, excited, yet she felt the need to cry. She felt the first stage was over; they had either to part or to embark on the second stage, and this they had done. But it had a finality about it. It would lead nowhere. And she was angry that her first home alone would not be all hers, completely paid for and answerable to no one. She resented his kindness and yet the thrill that she got from thinking of the visits, the phone calls, the sense of possession, ran right from her neck to the soles of her feet, making her shiver with delight.
