A Bouquet of Barbed Wire, page 22
He poured himself another cup of coffee. ‘I forgot all about it. I honestly did. Then yesterday on the train she was kind of funny. In a crazy mood. I knew something was brewing. We had a kind of crazy argument in the train, about the Goddamned colour supplement. I didn’t want to give it to her because it had pictures in it, you know, babies before they’re born, that kind of stuff. I thought it might upset her. But she insisted. Then I knew we were in for trouble; that’s why I called you the way I did. But I still didn’t know what. I still couldn’t believe she’d actually … blow her top.’
He was silent. Finally he said, ‘Anyway she did. I don’t need to tell you the rest. I still haven’t explained the rest; I don’t know that I can, I don’t know that you’ll accept it. But I have to try.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘Look, I love Prue, I really do. She’s … fantastic. But she has this thing—this need, I don’t know, this urge for violence. Now you’re not going to believe this, you’re going to say I’m just making shitty excuses for beating her up, but I’m not. Honest to God. I’m talking now about months ago. Look, you can blame me as much as you like, I’m not trying to get off the hook. I know I should never have hit her. But way back, before any of this jazz about your husband and his secretary, she made me hit her. She wanted me to.’ He buried his face in his hands and the words came out muffled. ‘Oh, you’re not going to believe this. But it was as if it wasn’t enough that we did the usual things, made love, you know. She wanted something more. She’d pick arguments. I didn’t understand at first, I thought it was just a game. But she went on and on. Finally, one row we had, I hit her. I blacked her eye. Now I don’t know how to explain this. It was before we went away. We had a row about her job; she wanted to quit. But she made me hit her. She went on and on till I did.’
Cassie said, ‘How did you feel?’
‘I don’t know. God, you’re fantastic. Do you actually understand any of this? You’re acting as if you did. What I want to make clear is, I’m not blaming Prue, she can’t help the way she is. It was up to me not to play along. But I did. So that’s my fault. The point is …’ he paused, frowning. ‘I’ve thought a lot about this, I’ve tried to get it clear. But I’ve never discussed it with Prue. Maybe I should’ve. But I think she’s got it all clear, she doesn’t mind. Oh, I don’t mean last night, that went too far, but before. I think it’s all part of some crazy scheme in her head. Whereas to me, afterwards, it’s ridiculous; I can’t believe I’ve done what I’ve done. If it’s in me, and God knows it seems to be and she brings it out, then Christ, it’s something I’d rather repress. I guess it just doesn’t bother her but it sure bothers me. I don’t want to know. You just can’t imagine how hideous it is.’
Cassie said, ‘What you’re saying is, Prue is a masochist and she makes you into a sadist, only you’re not really one. Or if you are you’d rather not be. Is that about it?’
He frowned; he seemed suddenly embarrassed. ‘I guess so.’
‘Can’t you just accept her the way she is?’ She felt she was making a fervent personal plea, but of course he did not know that.
‘What? So I buy this whole crazy set-up and one day I kill her. I nearly did last night. Is that what you want? Good God, you’re her mother, are you out of your mind?’
Cassie said gently, ‘I’m sorry; of course I don’t want that. I’m just trying to understand.’
‘Yeah.’ He brooded. ‘Well, maybe you understand too well. Honestly, I don’t get this whole scene—you mean you actually want me to beat up your daughter?’
Cassie felt the weight of years as she had never done before. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, as tangible as lipstick. She said, ‘These things aren’t simple. Of course I don’t want you to beat up Prue; last night I wanted to kill you for what you did. But that doesn’t mean I can’t understand. There’s—’ she hesitated, but knew she had to go on—’a bit of this thing in me too; maybe Prue’s got it from me.’
The sun rose palely over distant trees. A little warm light began to fill the garden. Gavin said, very young, the authentic note of horror, ‘You mean your old man beats you up?’
Cassie almost laughed at the horror and the ludicrously improbable picture; she also wanted to cry. ‘No—I don’t mean that. That’s the last thing he would ever do. But there was a time when I would have liked him to be … well, more aggressive. Look, it’s really very simple. Most women like a man to be masterful. Maybe even a little bit rough. You only have to push this a stage further and you’ve got real pain, real violence. The problem is where to stop it. How to provide enough to satisfy the person’s needs without letting it all get out of control, like last night.’
He stared at her. ‘Yeah. But that shouldn’t be too difficult, not if it’s a sex thing. This thing with Prue, oh, it started with sex, that was fine, but I think it’s gone beyond that now. I kind of feel she wants me to punish her for something; like it’s not a game any more.’ He frowned. ‘D’you think—gee, I don’t know how to put this—but this thing between her and her father, well, they feel pretty strongly about each other, don’t they? D’you think maybe Prue feels guilty about that and that’s why she wants me to punish her? Say, if I’m right, that’s pretty sick, isn’t it? But I guess we’ll never know; it’s not something I could ask Prue and I don’t think she knows herself. If it’s true then it’s buried. It has to be.’
Cassie, depressed by the plausibility of his argument, said as much to convince herself as him, ‘It could also be that we just didn’t give her enough discipline as a child. Have you ever thought about that?’
He brooded for a moment, then looked up, suddenly flashing her the wide, candid smile of a child. ‘Yeah, let’s believe that.’
35
SARAH SAID, ‘Do you want to telephone her?’
He looked up; he looked guilty. Caught. ‘No. No. You mean Cassie?’
‘Yes.’
‘No, I don’t want to phone. That’s up to her, when she feels ready to talk. She’s the injured party after all.’ He held out his arms. ‘Apart from you. You’re having a rotten time, aren’t you? Shut up with me all day at the office and all night here and I’m as miserable as sin. It’s not much fun for you, is it?’
Sarah managed a smile. ‘It’s just ironic. Wishing for time together and now we’ve got it, only we can’t enjoy it because of how we got it.’ She held his hand, not wanting his arm round her. It was not that she loved him less but that she had never felt so alone as now, when he was with her. Far more thoroughly alone than when she had waited for him. She felt that she was a refuge, not a person; all the feeling of security she had built up was flowing away, like bath water, when someone pulls out the plug. She said, ‘Why do you think Prue did it?’
‘God knows. I’ve been asking myself that all day.’ He had done virtually no work, while Sarah sought refuge in typing and had got through enough to occupy two normal days, by five o’clock being reduced to tidying the filing-cabinet. At this point, in a rage of guilt and helplessness he had telephoned Prue’s flat to demand explanation, justification, redress; but there was no reply. ‘I suppose she was shocked and when she started drinking it all came out. She must have wanted to punish me for letting her down.’
‘And punish her mother too?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it was the only way she could punish me. Properly. Maybe she didn’t think it would be enough to tell me in private that she despised me.’
Sarah thought this over. ‘And would it have been?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, how much do you value her good opinion?’
His face darkened; he said, ‘About as much as she values mine. Or as little. That’s not the point.’
‘Isn’t it?’ She felt so sad; she looked round the smart white room and thought what a waste of paint it all was. Someone had tried so hard to make it nice and they were not appreciating it. ‘You love her; of course it matters what she thinks. And your wife. You love her too.’
‘And I love you,’ he said, seriously, intensely, holding tight to her hand. He looked as if he meant it. But she did not believe him. She said, ‘Yes, you love all three of us, you said so before, but it doesn’t work, does it? You’ve always loved them best; there’s never been a place for me. Maybe Prue was only trying to bring you to your senses; maybe she did you a favour.’
He said sharply, ‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ But he had never felt more involved and alive than when Prue said those fatal words, ‘Do you know Daddy’s been fucking his secretary in our flat while we were away?’ The words in all their cruelty dropping one by one into the social atmosphere of a family party, Cassie’s face turning as white as her plate, Prue trembling with spite; he himself and Gavin quite immobile, and for a moment silent, with horror. It was as if all the drama he had perpetually been on the fringe of had finally washed over him, like a wave that you stand and wait for. It was not the monopoly of the young after all. But it hurt and he did not know how to deal with it, any more than he had known how to deal with Prue’s hysterical sobs as Gavin dragged her from the house, or Cassie’s silence when they were left alone. Finally she had said, ‘Was all that true?’ and he had said, ‘Yes.’ And really it had all been said, though they analysed the details for an hour or more, using words like jealousy and incest and revenge as if they did not belong in an Elizabethan drama but in everyday life, and discussing youth and middle-age as if they were actually not afraid to face their implications. It was all very fine and brave but it left them empty and wanting to be alone, apart from each other. They had admitted too much.
He started to make love to Sarah, as much to comfort and reassure her as to give himself pleasure, but when she said, ‘Do you mind if we don’t? I’m awfully tired,’ he was more relieved than disappointed and stopped at once.
36
CASSIE WROTE, ‘Darling, I’ve had a lot of time to think since you left yesterday. It isn’t easy to write this but I think it would be even harder to say, on the phone, or face to face.
First of all, I wasn’t quite honest with you yesterday when you were blaming yourself for everything. In fact one of the reasons I asked you to go was I couldn’t bear to hear you take any more blame but I wasn’t brave enough to share it. I hope I am now. Also I wanted to keep certain things private but now I think that was selfish of me and, in the circumstances, unjustified.
I’m trying to be very calm. Forgive me if I sound pompous. I think there are three reasons why we are in this situation: the normal attraction between you and Sarah, the stress of Prue’s marriage which you’ve found hard to cope with, and a very natural longing for excitement and change after being married for so many years. It’s the last reason I want to write about. Five years ago I had to face the fact that I would never have another child, and we had been married a long time. Do you remember, it was about that time Prue was sculpted by Sven? I never wanted to tell you this, I wanted to keep it private, but now I think I should tell you. I had an affair with him. It lasted for nearly two years, until he went away, and it was very humiliating and painful because he did not care for me at all, except in bed, and I was in love with him. It was also, in a sense, the happiest time in my life. That isn’t meant to hurt you, just to prove that I can understand how you feel about Sarah. I have never felt more alive than when I was with him; in fact the more he despised me the more I adored him. I even wanted to have a child by him, before it was too late, but in the end that was something I couldn’t do to you. It was a very difficult affair to manage because of you and the children—sometimes when he phoned I couldn’t go to him because you or they were there, and then I really wished you all dead. I think I was a little out of my mind. At other times I would phone him and he’d say, “Not now, I’m working.” Or I would go round there, if I was quite desperate, without phoning, to his house, to the studio, and he might make love to me if I was lucky, but sometimes he just said, “Go away, I don’t want you today, I’ve got someone else coming.” He knew there’d always be another time because I just couldn’t stay away from him. And when he finally left he didn’t even tell me he was going, or anyone else—I was just as surprised as the whole village was. One day the house was empty and the next day the agent’s board went up and that was the first I knew of it. That was when I was so ill for months and you put it down to the menopause and the doctor kept giving me those pills—do you remember? I thought it was a kind of judgment on me because I had been praying that one of us would die, you, me, or him, to solve everything, and then he solved it by simply going away, which was the one thing I had never considered, and much worse than death. So I thought it was God punishing me.
I’m telling you this now for two reasons. One to prove I understand the need for excitement, even misery, after years of contentment. As one gets older, it seems to get stronger, this longing to be reminded of the distinction between loving and being in love. You know which is better, just as you know it is better to be sober than drunk as a permanent state, but sometimes it is so wonderful to be drunk that you simply can’t stop yourself drinking and you don’t even want to try.
The other reason is about Prue. Now don’t get alarmed, she’s perfectly all right. But she’s in hospital because Gavin hit her rather badly on their way home. He was very upset by her behaviour and he lost control. They think the baby will be all right too, so you must not worry. I’ve talked to Gavin and I’m certain he loves her and is terribly ashamed of what he did. But the point is that from what he said I gather they have always had a very violent relationship, instigated and encouraged by Prue, and leading up to the other night when it got completely out of hand. My relationship with Sven was also violent, although it never went as far as this, obviously, but I expect you remember the time I was always getting bruised or cut and again I had to blame it on the menopause; I said it was making me clumsy so I kept having accidents. I don’t say this to hurt you—ait least not consciously—but to explain that I know how Prue feels and that what happened last night is not entirely Gavin’s fault. You remember how we tried to cope with this problem (in a much more minor way) when we were first married and we solved it, if that’s the word, by ignoring it. This was an area where you couldn’t meet me, you were always so gentle and sweet, so I tried to suppress this side of me because everything else was so good. But it came out again when I met Sven.
Anyway, that’s all in the past. It’s been painful to write about and I hope we won’t have to discuss it, though of course we can if you want to. I just wanted to stop you feeling that you were the unfaithful husband of a faithful wife—we have both been in the same boat, though at different times. And I wanted to tell you about Prue’s accident without making you want to kill Gavin, which was my instant reaction and I don’t even dislike him. He is staying here at present so as to be near the hospital for visits. Because of the circumstances they asked my permission to let him see her. I wasn’t sure but I saw her today and all she could say was it was all her fault and please could she see Gavin. So I let him go and he’s with her now.
He reminds me of Sven. Perhaps I shouldn’t say that—don’t misunderstand me, please—but he always has and I think that’s why I never objected to him as a husband for Prue. It seemed like fate. In fact it used to amaze me that you didn’t notice the resemblance, until I realised that you had no reason to remember Sven or even think of him, and besides when we met him he was already forty and going bald. But when you are in love with someone you can picture them at all ages, I think; your eyes get some kind of extra power, and you can see into their past and their future because you want their whole life.
Your feelings for Prue and your feelings for Sarah are your own affair and I don’t want to pry. I still love you and would like you to come home but obviously not before you are ready to do so because that would accomplish nothing. Perhaps I should not assume you will ever be ready.
I hope you will agree with me that we should keep the whole incident quiet about Prue and not involve the police. Legally, of course, we could take action but I think this could only do harm. At the same time I am very worried about the future of their marriage because I don’t see what course it can possibly take—I don’t see how they can work out a solution that will satisfy both of them. Still, that is up to them.
There is one more point. I don’t suppose Prue could have inherited this tendency from me but I wonder how much we may have encouraged it in the way we brought her up, whether she had too much love and not enough discipline. It was the other way round for us so maybe we tried too hard to compensate. We were so anxious not to spoil her materially, maybe we spoilt her emotionally and she needed Gavin to make her feel there was some power she could kick against that would always be too strong for her. Or maybe she felt guilty about always getting her own way—after all she always has twisted you round her little finger, hasn’t she?—and wanted to be punished for that. Am I making any kind of sense?
Anyway, I know you’ll want to visit her. Please be tactful. And if you want to see me you know where I am. But only if you want to. I love you anyway. Cassie.’
37
HE KISSED her hand, squeezed it, and sat down on a chair at the foot of the bed. He had meant to kiss her cheek and hug her but the sight of the swellings, the technicoloured bruises, the half-closed eye, repelled him. He felt himself tremble at the sight of his daughter like this; and he trembled more because he could not approach her as if it made no difference.
She said, ‘Hullo, Daddy,’ and smiled. He saw that one of her teeth was chipped and the sight made him shiver, as if another person were masquerading as Prue.
He said, ‘Hullo, darling, how are you?’ He felt unspeakably alienated and prayed that it did not show.
She said, ‘Are you very angry with me?’ and he was surprised at the inadequacy, even irrelevance, of the word. His daughter had chosen a husband who beat her and his wife had had a lover years ago without his even suspecting. Apparently these two women, the two he had loved most in the world, were both raging masochists and deceitful into the bargain. Cassie had betrayed him long ago without conscience, Prue had stored up evidence against him and revealed it to hurt Cassie and discredit him in her eyes. Whereas he had loved them both devotedly all his life, worked hard to provide for them, suffered guilt over his own rare and tiny infidelities. He felt they had both become strangers who yet still expected him to understand their points of view. He thought of Sarah, thought of her with longing and gratitude, wanted to be with her, to make amends for all he had failed to give her or had inflicted upon her.
