Perfection Comes at a Price, page 22
“I know,” said Emma, “You can be Sir E and Sir P.”
“I’ve got another bit of news as well. I’ve been made Ambassador to Spain from May.”
“Magnificent, we are so proud of you,” said Lady Saunders. “You will be in some way home from home and we can have the to-ing and fro-ing as we did during your first posting there.”
Eric’s greatest dream had come true. He had managed the nearly impossible. He had put all his energies into hard work all his life and now he was finally reaping the rewards. To be ambassador to a country that was a monarchy gave him immense satisfaction, and that it was Spain on top of everything, was the icing on the cake. There would be the pomp and ceremony that he loved, and he’d need a diplomatic uniform. All so wonderfully old-fashioned.
Oh, if only Katie knew. But of course she would know. She would see it in the papers. He knew that she would be pleased and happy for him. And indeed she was. Eric received a letter of congratulations from her. He was touched; contact at last! He decided to start a tentative approach towards her through correspondence, not too much so as not to frighten her that he might be taking advantage of her, but just the occasional short letter and Christmas card.
He had instinctively chosen the right method. Katie was also in need of contact with him. Over the years she had mellowed, and she had learned not to resent her dreams not coming true. Eric had never stopped loving her, but he had not been able to marry her. She should not have held it against him. A person can only do what they can. And whether the reason was honourable or not so honourable, that had to be left with the person concerned. He had done the right thing never to talk to her about a marriage. It had been she who had hankered. However, once a marriage had definitely been put aside, it had been the right move not to continue as an affair. An affair would have been too hurtful. It would have spoilt their happiness.
Now, for both of them, a new time was slowly coming. It was as if a new morn was appearing, and the very first rays of sun were beginning to light up the background. The night was not totally dark anymore. For both, their inner feelings and longings were beginning to surface and surmount the exterior carapace of worldliness. The exterior was beginning to matter less, especially for Eric. He had to admit it to himself that, without Katie, he was not a happy man.
All through their separation, he had followed the life and success of Kat Claydon. He knew that she had successful exhibitions in Hamburg and in Amsterdam. He was proud of her. He had often wondered what her private life was like and whether she had found another man. So far nothing had been written in the papers about the artist having any special relationships.
Now through their correspondence, they were giving each other a chance.
In the family, Lucius had got a daughter in March 2003. For Easter, Eric had been in London to see the family and thus he was introduced to his grand-daughter, Irene Philippa. Lucius had been adamant that the second name of the child be Philippa and Amanda had had to cave in. What Eric could make out about his son’s marriage was that his son had woken up to reality but was doing the right thing by all. The child would help. The young man would probably throw himself heavily into work and thus avoid what could be avoided. The main thing to be avoided was of course a divorce as it was so detrimental to the children. It remained to be hoped that there would be no special quarrels between the couple so that a modus vivendi could be established.
Emma’s two boys, Daniel and Dominic, were now three and one year respectively. Sir Philip was in his element with the little ones. He might be eighty-five but he had the energy levels of a much younger man. His wife sometimes wondered whether her husband might be overdoing it.
“Is there much contact between you and Lucius?” asked Eric.
“Not as much as we are used to, but some yes. I make a point of being pleasant to Amanda. Grandpa is unable to do that. I should think that now that they have a child, there could be a new lease of life between the cousins. However, we meet with Lucius for lunch from time to time, in secret from her.”
“Well done. Keep as much contact as possible. Lucius needs that. I can see that he has woken up from his dreams. But he is doing the decent thing. Choosing a spouse is one of the most difficult things, and it is one of the most important ones as it determines one’s whole life. Without children, one can separate to lead new lives but once a child is there, then one is tied to the other parent for life! With a divorce, the child is the ground trampled upon.”
“Daddy, I’m pregnant again.”
“Congratulations. You and Charles are busy beavers in the line of child production. I suppose you want a girl?”
“Yes, Daddy, we do. The baby is due in the summer.”
On the 19th of July, 2004, Helen Estephania came into the world. Eric happened to be in England for a holiday at that time, so he was pacing the corridors together with Charles, Charles’s, father, and Sir Philip. The women sat calmly waiting. When the baby was there, as soon as he could, Sir Philip wanted to hold the little one. He was so moved that he got tears of joy in his eyes.
“My dearest Emma, you have yet again given your family such a wonderful present. Bless you, my child.”
With so much happiness all around, it is inevitable that some sorrow be mixed in with it. Most unexpectedly, in October 2005, Sir Philip had a sudden major heart-attack and died on the spot. He died in the happiest possible way, he had been preparing the pram to take Helen, Daniel and Dominic out. Emma heard the crash and then saw her grandfather lying on the floor.
She was out of her mind. It reminded her too starkly of the sight of her mother, lying dead on the floor. Luckily the nanny was there to call for assistance and then to call Charles, who came home immediately. Emma had to be sedated. This was as big a blow to her as had been the loss of her mother. Sir Philip had in a way taken the role of Philippa, and Emma had relied on him all her life. Charles did his best to calm her, but failed.
It took a very long time for Emma to get to grips at all. She was inconsolable. In the end Lady Saunders had to have a serious word with her.
“Grandfather was taken far too early,” cried Emma,” he was in best of health. Now I have nobody to confide in. I miss him so terribly, Grandma.”
“Emma, pull yourself together. You’ve got your husband to stand by you. He is giving you support. You need to think of your three children. Some control for their sakes would not go amiss. Let me tell you, my dear, your grandfather would not approve of such a sorrowing. I knew him intimately; we had been married for sixty-six years. A life-time. He was not taken early, the man was eighty-seven after all. I am happy that my Philip was taken so suddenly and in the middle of doing what he best liked to do. It was merciful that he was taken before he became debilitated in any way. Sitting in a wheelchair would have been worse than death to him. I am sustained by all the happy years he gave me. Believe me, Emma, Grandfather would not wish us to sorrow like this. His love is here all around us.”
“Oh Grandmother, you are wise. Yes, you are right. I just miss him no longer being around.”
“Time heals, my child. And I am still here. You can come to me anytime with anything you wish to talk about. You know that you are in my heart.”
“Thank you, Grandma. Your words have helped me.”
Chapter 42
With the death of Sir Philip, Eric felt that an era had come to an end. He found himself genuinely sorrowing over him. The departure of his much-loved father-in-law left him in a turmoil. The old man had had such a zest for life, such a sunny disposition and had been kindness personified. Eric had learned much from him and both Lucius and Emma had had an exceptional grandfather who spent time with them. To give of one’s time, that was the biggest present one could give. Eric was much taken by various thoughts and felt an acute need to confide in someone. Who did he have? He needed Katie. He sat and penned a long emotional letter to her. He needed inner help.
He was not mistaken in her. When Katie received the letter, she could feel how lonely Eric was on the inside, how he needed comforting and being cared for. His outer success had only partially fulfilled him.
She replied in an instinctive way, not worrying how well her letter was constructed or what fancy language to use. It came from her heart. To Eric it was five pages of beauty. Her love for him shone through. Eric said a prayer for her, his Katie who, in spite of the harsh cruelty he had meted out to her, still loved him and had not turned against him.
He realised that though it was late in life, it was not too late. They were both alive. There was still a chance for them, provided that he himself undertook to build it up again. He would start with a frequent, honest and open correspondence. He had less than a year to stay in Madrid before his retirement. The correspondence would help them both towards an eventual meeting.
Eric started to assess his life. He had cultivated his exterior persona and felt that there he had succeeded to near perfection. As to his inner self, what had he done? It started to become clear to him that he had left that side of himself parched. Had he been right in assuming that people would only love him for his perfections? Yes, he had. His marriage might have given him more happiness if he had given Philippa the chance of knowing him better. The poor woman had never known him properly. If he could have exposed to her some of the interior hurts caused by his parents, she might have been able to alleviate the hurt. Or at least the brooding resentment.
He had of never stopped to consider his parents’ behaviour from their point of view. Not that he condoned cruelty to children. But to think as to what might have caused it. The couple, stuck in a marriage, stuck in Southall, stuck in poverty and both with very little education, they probably did not know better. He had never enquired about his parents’ childhood. There could have been factors that contributed to all that misery. In the summer, when he would be on a visit to the children, he would go and talk to his parents properly and ask questions. He was reminded of what Katie had said about the fact that often people did not really know much about their nearest and dearest. He was bound to learn at least something. Should his mother be in a suitable stage of inebriation, which she usually was, she would be garrulous. Then he could turn the direction of any conversation as he wished. He felt guilty at hiding from his parents the fact that there were two grandchildren and four great-grandchildren. So far he had reasoned that the best for the younger generation, as well for his parents, was to be ignorant of the existence of the others.
The barren inner marriage that he had created had not enabled his inner feelings to mature. But he had been frightened. Fear was such a strong emotion that very little could beat it. Only love had that power. And of all feelings love was the most blessed one. He had longed to drink from that well, but instead he had run for cover and avoided it.
He began to understand that he had a great capacity to love. As had anyone. He loved his two children and their offspring deeply. And his love was returned. However, children cannot give the type of love that a spouse can. Only with a spouse can one be really fulfilled. A spouse, is another person who is not only another body, but another spirit in harmony with one’s own. Honest deep confidences needed to be exchanged. One has to open most of the seven gates guarding one’s inner personality. When that happens, a true union can take place and the two can complement one another. He could now understand that that was the meaning of marriage.
He still had the great treasure that was Katie. He would start a slow process to nurture and heal that relationship. Their long separation made it a bit complicated, so he would have to tread carefully. Before any actual meeting, the relationship needed to be repaired.
There was no point in going on a trip to meet her. No, once they were together again, he needed to be there for her and not disappear from sight yet again. Katie had wanted all or nothing. She would have her all. He would offer all that he could give. He would humbly ask her to marry him. He would be there with a definite decision. He wanted to love her and cosset her, to be a support where needed and give her happiness.
His Katie. He prayed that they would have years and years and years together. They would have the same old fun together as always. She was bound to say yes to his proposal, she would not pretend or artificially make herself hard to get. That reply to his letter showed clearly that all the old love was there.
The dread of Southall and the fact that they came from there, was beginning to crack. He began to see that if one is too tied to the past, then it stultifies all possible moves forward. One had to be able to let go, especially of the bad things in life. He saw how he had almost been wedded to his dread of the place, and in the end, what for? Did it matter that they both came from Southall? Not in the least. Did it matter that Katie was not as well educated as himself? Not in the least. Why had he looked down on her? What stupidity! Katie had probably given more to the world that he had through his hard work. His job had given joy to no-one, Katie’s art had given joy to so many. Oh Katie, forgive me.
Eric needed his own life with Katie. He did not want to become a pitied solitary soul that his children felt obliged to visit. He also knew in his bones that they would more than welcome their father’s not breathing down their necks. He remembered that it had been Sir Philip who had been Emma’s confidante, not himself. He needed nobody’s permission to lead his own life, and he would definitely not ask for it. What he did in his life would only be announced after the fact. He did not meddle in the life of his adult children, and they had no right to meddle in his. Not that they would, they were both far too intelligent.
What now mattered was how Katie would react.
As Eric was thinking of Katie, so she was thinking of him. That letter from Eric had thrown her life apart. It had been an existence rather than a life. It had been through her turning to the Church and finding faith that her inner bitterness and anger had started to melt away. She had eventually got to the stage that she prayed for Eric’s happiness, in whatever form and with whichever woman he would find it. Her possessiveness had gone. That brought inner harmony to her. Now that they had started their correspondence, she would hold nothing back; she would just see where it would lead them.
Chapter 43
Eric was on his way to visit his parents. It was August, and the weather had been a bit thundery from time to time. Today, it was warm and humid but no rain.
He was wondering in his mind as to how the visit would turn out. After his great soul-searching, he was now able to envisage this visit without hatred. Usually he had hated any visits and had only stayed for an hour each time. He had felt entitled to his wrath. He had now realised how awful a life with hatred was. Hatred was a horrible force, it spread around getting bigger and bigger till it enveloped most areas of life. Eventually most things got poisoned by it. This time Eric was not sitting rigid with suppressed nerves. He wanted to understand.
As he was going through the door, he heard his mother call,
“Is that you, Tom? You’re back early.”
“Mother, it’s me, Eric. I’m here to visit again.”
Eric looked at his mother with new eyes. The hair-dye and the war-paint were there, but through that he saw a frail, aged, vulnerable woman. Vulnerable? Eric’s heart missed a beat. His dreaded mother, a vulnerable woman? Yes, but this was the first time that he had looked at her without preconceived judgment.
His mother was in the kitchen, putting on the kettle.
“Sit down, Mum, I’ll do the tea. I’ve brought a gin and a brandy for you and also a hundred cigarettes. Shall I put some brandy in your tea?”
“Oh, that sounds good.”
His mother actually had a little smile on her face.
Eric brought the tea, sugar, milk and cups.
“How have you been, Mum?”
“Me usual self, son. In the past few weeks I’ve been thinking that your visit was due sometime soon.”
What! So his mother actually paid attention to his visits. And waited for him to come. He now thanked the Lord that he had come to visit his parents twice yearly, except for that period when he had been in Venezuela. He now had learned that his visits had been important.
“You’ve lost weight since I last saw you, Mum.”
“So I have. Good job too not to carry too much weight. But me boobs are as usual. They’ve always been the pride of the estate.”
“Mum. We’ve never really talked about your or Dad’s family. I’m curious to know something about your childhoods.”
“Oh Eric. Those stories are best avoided.”
“Oh come on, I’ll pour you a drink and then tell me something at least. Let’s start with Dad.”
His mother’s eyes were looking into some distant horizon. She was looking into the past. The way the evening light fell upon her showed off her bone-structure and face very well. Eric realised that his mother was a very beautiful woman still. In her younger years she would have been stunning. Then why had she covered herself in all that make-up? Suddenly, the answer came to Eric. His mother had wanted to cover up her vulnerability. A mask was there. Just like he, Eric, always wore a mask.
“Well, Eric, Dad’s father was a hard man. He had done time. He did not even need to be drunk in order to swipe a good one at Tom. Terrified, your father was. He bears the scars on his body to this day.”
Eric was stunned. He had not expected that. It explained a lot.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said, having gone quite pale.
“It’s just as well that the man died when Tom was only twelve. Otherwise your Dad might have been killed with the escalating violence.”
What a horror story! No wonder that his Dad had taken to alcohol.
“That explains why Dad was so often in the pub. But what about yourself? You’ve never spoken about your parents.”
“Son, what has got into you? What has brought about this curiosity? You’ve never asked before.”
