A Sense of Guilt

by Andrea Newman

  ‘You can. You do.’

  ‘Then why don’t you stay?’

  He went on holding her hand and said quite calmly, ‘I’m not going to make love to you, if that’s what you mean.’

  She felt disappointed but not rejected. ‘Why not? Don’t you fancy me?’

  ‘Yes. But I think it’s too soon.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m still in love with Felix, do you?’ She held her breath a bit because she wasn’t sure of the answer to that one herself.

  ‘No. But I don’t think you’re quite over him either. And I don’t want to help you prove you are.’

  She had been wrong about him: he wasn’t young and naive at all. ‘That was nasty,’ she said.

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  It seemed easy and natural then to kiss. His lips tasted bitter but she liked the taste.

  ‘But I could stay and we could just sleep.’

  She was so amazed to hear him say exactly what she had been thinking. ‘Could we?’

  ‘I think that’s what you really want.’

  ‘I didn’t know I could have a cuddle without sex.’ Now she felt she was the naive one. Would he think she was silly?

  ‘Why not? Anyway, I’m quite shy.’

  ‘Even with me?’

  ‘Especially with you.’

  She took a risk and told him the truth. ‘Sometimes I just want someone to hug me so much, I think I’ll die if they don’t.’

  He didn’t seem shocked or surprised. He looked at her as if she had said something quite reasonable and held out his arms. She shot into them very fast, like a rabbit into its burrow.

  ‘Oh, that feels lovely. You do realise you’re missing a treat though.’ She wanted him to know she was sexy and adult, a woman who had suffered, not someone playing childish games.

  He held her comfortably tight. ‘Won’t it still be there another time?’

  ‘Yes, of course it will,’ she said, feeling reassured, perhaps even a bit relieved it didn’t have to be tonight after all.

  The hug went on so long that eventually they were both falling asleep but it still seemed a pity to break it up. They decided he would stay the night after all but they’d keep some clothes on and just cuddle. Once that was settled they both felt very cheerful. Sally stripped down to her knickers and T-shirt and Jamal kept his underpants on. They got into bed like old friends, feeling very comfortable with each other and yet somehow adventurous, and snuggled up together. It took a while to get all their limbs arranged in the right places so they wouldn’t get pins and needles later on and have to move away. She was glad he didn’t have an erection. At first they kept chatting and telling each other jokes. She felt very safe with him, at ease. She supposed she was trying to exorcise her memories of spending the night with Felix. She thought she might lie awake for hours remembering, but in fact fell asleep much sooner than she had expected.

  * * *

  Richard drove down to Sussex that night, overtaking dangerously on the motorway, causing other cars to swerve and hoot and flash their lights at him. He knew he was beside himself; the expression suddenly made vivid personal sense.

  It was only when he reached the darkened campus that he felt like an intruder, parking his car, finding his way to Sally’s building, not knowing what he would do if the front door was locked. But it wasn’t and then he was actually walking down Sally’s corridor. When he opened the door of her room he might have been quiet and sad if she’d been alone, and merely reproached her, for he was already feeling guilty for coming here at all. But she was in bed with the Indian boy she had brought to Helen’s show, and somehow the sight of them curled up together enraged him, as if the abortion had meant so little to her that she could recover from it quickly. He heard himself shouting abuse at her and the boy got out of bed, still wearing his underpants, and put on his clothes as if he needed to be dressed before he could deal with Richard. He was very polite and Richard felt embarrassed. He shouted all the more, or rather he heard someone who must be himself doing a lot of shouting, trying to get the boy to go away so he could talk to Sally alone, but it didn’t work. Sally wanted him to stay and he stayed, even though Richard kept saying it was a family matter.

  He tried to make Sally understand the enormity of what she had done but she only seemed concerned to know if Helen was all right. He was reminded of her as a child, making sure he wouldn’t interrupt Helen’s work, and he was enraged by the knowledge that he had always been an outsider, that the mother and daughter alliance was unbreakable. He found himself calling her a tramp and a murderer and trying to get to the bed to drag her out of it, but the boy got in his way and he was tempted to hit him and surprised by the temptation. Sally stayed in bed and put her hands over her ears to shut out his words, so he shoved the boy out of the way and wrenched the quilt off her, as if being uncovered would make her hear him. Then she started sobbing and screaming at him that he was not her father, and he knew he was defeated. He went away.

  He sat for a while in the car, which seemed his only refuge, not knowing what to do. He was aware of feeling very tired and rather ridiculous, so he thought he would sleep for an hour or two before driving off, especially as he didn’t know where to go. Then it was abruptly morning and Sally was shaking him by the shoulder and asking him if he was all right. He started apologising to her and she kept saying it was OK. She said the Indian boy was just a friend and Richard said it was none of his business. She was very calm and forgiving, and the events of the night receded like a bad dream. ‘You look terrible,’ she said gently. ‘Come and have some breakfast.’

  She took him to a cafeteria place but she pushed her plate away half full when he told her about Inge finding the letter. She asked him not to be angry with Felix. He burst out, ‘Oh Sally, why didn’t you tell me when it happened? We could have worked something out. Didn’t you trust me?’

  She wouldn’t look at him. ‘Can’t we just forget about it?’

  ‘Did you want to have the baby?’

  She said firmly, ‘Richard, I really don’t want to talk about it any more.’

  He knew he should leave it alone but he couldn’t. ‘God, something this important can happen and you and Helen don’t even bother to tell me. Don’t I count for anything?’

  ‘Of course you do,’ she said, looking at the table.

  ‘Can you imagine what it feels like? You’re the two people I love most in the world, more than my own children, God help me, and you can just leave me out.’

  ‘We didn’t want to upset you. And we knew you wouldn’t agree.’

  ‘It’s as if I didn’t exist.’

  She told him he was over-reacting. ‘We didn’t have much time and we had to make a decision.’

  ‘Without consulting me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She chewed her thumb. ‘We thought it was all for the best. We weren’t rejecting you. We were just two women sticking together.’

  He was struck by her composure, how cool and detached she seemed. He couldn’t get her to talk about the baby or admit Helen had pressured her into making the wrong decision. He couldn’t find out what her own wishes had been. The child who used to hug him and talk to him and depend on him seemed to have gone for ever. ‘I made a stupid mistake but it’s all over,’ she said. She only became agitated when he told her he had left Helen. She talked about love, as if that made everything simple. He couldn’t walk out on Helen if he still loved her, she said. Helen wasn’t to blame for anything was the message he got, and he must go back to her. He wondered if she was hiding behind Helen’s problems to avoid facing her own, but when he tried to put that to her she got up and walked out.

  * * *

  Richard just burst into my room in the middle of the night. I was so fast asleep, like at the bottom of a well, the first good night’s sleep I’ve had for ages, that it was really hard to haul myself out and there was this mad person, kind of snarling at me and saying I was disgusting. He was like somebody out of a horror film, and it could
have been almost funny if it hadn’t been so frightening. All I could think of was that something must have happened to Mum.

  Jamal was marvellous. He really stood up to Richard and tried to calm him down, but it didn’t do any good. Richard just went raving on about how I was a tramp and I’d murdered my baby and why did I choose Felix when I knew what he was like. I sort of cowered under the duvet. I couldn’t understand how he’d found out and I kept thinking he ought to feel sorry for me, well a bit anyway, instead of just furious. He didn’t sound angry with Felix, either, just me. It didn’t seem fair at all. He went on about loving me and taking care of me for ten years, as if I’d done something terrible just to annoy him, he didn’t seem to understand I was hurt. In the end he actually pulled the duvet off me and that was it, I went mad and screamed at him, ‘Shut up, you’re not my father.’ It was horrible of me but I was desperate to make him go away and leave me alone.

  And he did. His face sort of crumpled up and he just slunk out of the room. It all seemed terribly unreal once he’d gone. We even started giggling about it, we were a bit hysterical. Jamal made some tea and we had that and talked for a while and then we tried to get back to sleep but we couldn’t. We kept trying to work out how Richard knew about the abortion when Mum and Felix had been just as keen as I was to keep it secret. I’d never seen Richard in such a rage, it made him seem like a completely different person who might do absolutely anything, and I kept wondering if he’d hit Mum. I felt as if I’d never really known him at all. It made me realise how seldom he must have lost his temper in the past, even slightly.

  Eventually Jamal decided to go back to his room and I dozed for a while, then I got up and had a bath because I thought it might make me feel better. I wanted some coffee but we’d used up all the milk, so I went down to the supermarket for some more and there in the car park was Richard’s car with Richard in it asleep. He looked so pathetic I stopped being angry with him and felt sorry for him instead. I debated what to do and then I woke him up and took him in the coffee shop for breakfast. He kept apologising in a grovelling way till I was quite embarrassed, so I asked him how he’d found out and he said Inge told him. Apparently she found one of my letters in Felix’s flat. I felt so awful then. It must mean they’re having an affair. Not that I expected Felix to be heartbroken or never have anyone else, but it does seem awfully soon and it’s so much worse that it’s Inge. So near home and sort of incestuous. And now there’s someone else who knows what happened to me. I’m not even going to think about her and Felix together.

  Then Richard started to get all heavy about how could Mum and I not tell him and didn’t I trust him and he could have helped me and how left out he felt, as if he didn’t exist. It was awful. I began to wish I’d left him asleep in the car. I tried to make him feel better. I told him he was much more of a father to me than Carey’d ever been, but that didn’t work because when he realised Mum had told Carey about the abortion he felt even more rejected and furious, which was silly really, because she had to tell him if I was going to spend Xmas with them. I might have been crying all over the place when Marsha had her baby. Well, I was.

  I started to feel very tired, what with not sleeping much and then all the drama, but it got worse. Richard told me he’d actually left Mum, walked out, just like that. He doesn’t want to live with her any more because she didn’t tell him what was happening, she just wanted her own way. I was so shocked. I couldn’t believe it. I asked if he still loved her, but he wouldn’t answer, he just kept on at me about whether I’d have had the baby if Mum or Felix had offered to help me look after it. I couldn’t see the point of asking me that. It’s too late. Once I got pregnant there simply wasn’t a right thing to do: all the options were horrible. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, I’d made a stupid mistake and it was all over. But he kept on. It was amazing. He simply didn’t care if he was upsetting me. In the end I just got up and walked out.

  I went to Jamal’s room in case Richard came to look for me. Jamal wasn’t there, but that was all right, it was just nice to feel safe and alone. I lay down on the bed and it smelt of Jamal, it was very comforting, and I fell asleep. Around lunchtime he came back and gave me a big hug and we went to the pub so I could tell him all about it over a drink. I’m beginning to see why people like drinking so much. It really does make you feel better, for a while anyway.

  I can’t get over the fact that Richard never said he was sorry I’d had such a rotten time. I said to Jamal, ‘Surely it’s worse for me than him. I actually had to have the abortion. He just wasn’t told about it. Now he wants me to pretend it could all have been different if only he’d known. But he couldn’t have made Felix leave Elizabeth and he couldn’t have made Mum look after the baby. So what’s the point of going on about it?’ Jamal asked if I’d said all that to Richard and I realised I hadn’t, I’d been too busy trying to make him feel better. God, I’m so tired of trying to make people feel better. How about somebody trying to make me feel better for a change? Well, I suppose that’s what Jamal’s doing.

  Richard told me Felix is away on holiday with Elizabeth and that’s why he hasn’t had a showdown with him yet. Jamal thought maybe I should write to the flat and warn Felix so when he gets back he’ll know what to expect, but I can’t be bothered. He’s had an affair with Inge and let her read my letters and now he’s having a nice time in the sun with his wife. Nothing ever goes wrong for him, at least nothing he can’t get out of with money. It’s not that I want revenge exactly, although Jamal thinks I do, I just want to let them all get on with it, if they’re all meant to be so grown up and clever and such good friends. I’ve done enough. I don’t have any energy left for other people. The thing that worries me most is if Richard doesn’t go back to Mum. I hated him trying to get me to gang up with him against her. I said to Jamal, ‘We were on our own together a long time before he turned up.’ But I remember how pleased I was when Richard came along to look after her. I’m really frightened that if he doesn’t go back I’ll end up feeling responsible for her all over again.

  * * *

  At home Felix would have given Elizabeth the pages and gone away while she read them, but on holiday the whole exercise felt more light-hearted. It was fun to read aloud to her while they sunbathed and sipped their drinks, fun to send himself up slightly in the way he read. She was a good audience, listening properly and rewarding him with a look or a smile at the right moment without overdoing it. The last bit was the best, and he had stopped as usual, like Hemingway, while he still knew what was coming next.

  Looking at the young man’s sturdy streamlined body, suntanned and covered in curly black hair, his splendid prick, his eyes a curious yellow like an animal, Tony could feel the faint >tirrings of something he had denied since his youth.

  ‘I’d like to ask you a few questions about the murder,’ he said.

  ‘In that case I’d better get dressed,’ the young man said. ‘I always think better with my clothes on.’

  Tony followed him out of the sauna and into the jacuzzi.

  ‘Such a pity about Steven and Bernard,’ said the young man, splashing. ‘They must have overdone their S-M games. I always thought they would, one of these days.’

  ‘Wow,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Tony Blythe is a closet gay. After all these years.’ She sounded impressed.

  ‘Well, why not? It’ll give my readers something to think about. With a bit of luck they’ll read all the other books again, just looking for clues.’

  ‘Which they won’t find.’

  ‘Yes, they will. You can always find something if you look for it hard enough. Especially if it isn’t there. That’s the basis of most religions.’ He must make a note of that, he thought. It had only just struck him and it sounded good.

  ‘It’s a great idea,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘I thought so.’

  ‘You haven’t forgotten Tony Blythe had a wife and kids at the beginning?’

  ‘So did Oscar Wilde.’

&n
bsp; ‘Right. That was silly of me.’

  ‘Not at all. You’re meant to be playing the average reader.’

  ‘And he’s always been such a philanderer,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Well, you know what they say about Casanova and Don Juan.’

  She smiled. ‘I love it.’

  ‘Ready with the blue pencil?’

  ‘Only a couple of details.’

  Felix refilled their glasses. ‘Christ, this bit hurts. I never get used to it. That’s my baby you’re about to mutilate.’ Too late he thought it was an unfortunate phrase, but of course she wouldn’t notice.

  ‘Not at all. I’m only going to trim its nails. “A curious yellow” reminds me of a film title.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He should have remembered. ‘How about… “a curiously light brown, almost yellow”?’

  ‘That’s better.’

  ‘I was thinking of a German shepherd dog, actually.’

  ‘Richard’s eyes are that colour,’ she said.

  ‘So they are. I wondered where I’d got it from.’

  ‘Will he mind?’

  ‘Well, he may think twice before he takes another shower with me at the club.’ They laughed comfortably. ‘I could always change it. How about… “a curiously muddy green, like avocados, somewhere between ripe and rotten”?’

  She considered. ‘Mm. I like the symbolism. I’m sure the young man’s going to be trouble. You’ll have to cut “like an animal” though.’

  ‘I’ll just make a note of it,’ said Felix, scribbling. ‘More?’

  ‘Well, I think “faint stirrings” is a bit of a cliché.’

  ‘Would “reawakening” be better?’

  ‘Yes. “Of something he had denied since youth.”’

  ‘Cut “his” as well?’

  ‘I thought maybe…’

  ‘No, you’re going too far. That makes it too impersonal.’

  ‘OK. He’s your hero. “Since his youth.”’