Damage

by Josephine Hart

  Martyn and Anna went to Edward’s study to phone her parents. A few minutes later Martyn came back.

  ‘Mum, I think it would be nice if you would speak to Anna’s mother as well. You’re so good at these things. Wilbur asked to be remembered to you, Dad. Do you think we could have a word, Dad?’

  ‘Mm. Of course.’

  Self-consciously, my son and I walked through the kitchen garden towards the meadow.

  ‘It’s strange to think of all those summers at Hartley. All before Anna,’ he said. ‘I find it hard to think of my life before her. Yet she’s only been with me for such a short time. I suppose everyone feels that when they fall in love?’

  ‘I expect they do.’

  ‘I know you and Mum had your doubts. Especially Mum. Oh, she never really said anything, but I could feel it. I understood it too.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes. Anna’s a bit older. Not the kind of girl I brought home before.’ He laughed.

  ‘Well, you certainly brought home, as you put it, quite a number.’

  ‘Were you shocked?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘You were always so proper. Oh, without being pious in any way’ (he hurried this) ‘but you know they were all … fantastic.’

  ‘They were all very attractive. And blonde, as your mother pointed out.’

  ‘Yes. I went through rather a thing with blondes. This is an odd conversation to have with one’s father, but I feel closer to you today than ever before. I felt like a prince during those years. It wasn’t promiscuity. It was a kind of mad wildness.’

  ‘Which stopped with Anna.’

  ‘Yes, Anna is my life, Dad. I suppose I’m in thrall to her. It’s an extraordinarily powerful thing. It’s been so hard for me to be careful. To play it right, not to lose her. She’s very complicated. She didn’t think I could handle it in the beginning. Now she’s confident.’

  ‘And from what do these complications arise?’

  ‘Well, she had a difficult relationship with her brother. He’s dead now. Then there was her parents’ divorce. And she had a long relationship with a chap that didn’t quite work either.’

  ‘What happened to her brother?’ An evil father asked the question. A good son replied, ‘Some ghastly tragedy. She doesn’t talk about it much.’

  ‘And who was the chap she had this long relationship with?’

  ‘His name was Peter. They nearly married, I think. Then she had a few other short-term things … you know …’

  ‘Well, I would expect that. She’s thirty-two, thirty-three, isn’t she?’

  ‘Mm. She’s very sensitive. She hates being tied down. I had to be very careful. I had to give her lots of freedom yet still hold on.’ He paused self-consciously. ‘We’ve never talked like this before, have we?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I suppose getting engaged, particularly to someone like Anna, makes me feel … mature? Does that sound pompous?’ He smiled at me. His handsomeness, his height, and his happiness all combined to make him seem like a young god striding towards his golden future. I felt like a heavy, weary attendant, doomed to watch the sun shine ever more brightly on this chosen child.

  Martyn touched my shoulder.

  ‘I wanted to say I’m sorry. What I said last night about chaos and passion was nonsense. You’ve been a marvellous father. A bit distant, but that’s because of your work, and all the demands on you. Anyway, you’ve never let me down. And if we’d been very close and you’d seemed terribly involved, I’d probably have hated it. I also want to thank you for the trust. I’m sure you advised when the grandparents set it up. It’s a great help. Anna and I are going to start house-hunting next week. Anna’s got money, you know. But I want to set us up. It’s important to me. So she’s going to sell her little house, and I’m going to sell the flat. Hopefully we can buy a reasonable house with extra help from the fund. Chelsea, we thought. God, I’m really happy. I wasn’t certain she would say yes. Isn’t life marvellous?’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it.’

  ‘Did you feel like this when you and Mum got engaged?’

  ‘Something like it.’ I felt ill. I had to change the subject. ‘What do you think of Sally and Jonathan?’

  ‘They’re very serious, that pair. I met someone from the company they work for. Said Sally’s done very well. I’ve always underestimated her, I suppose.’

  ‘Brothers often do.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He was drenched in happiness. Sally, Jonathan, his mother and I were transformed by his joy into far finer figures than we had ever seemed before. ‘Mum’s so good. I know she had more worries than anyone. I thought she’d never unfreeze with Anna. But Mum’s wise and kind, and once she saw the inevitability of it all, she became really friendly. Mum’s wonderful, don’t you think?’

  ‘Indeed I do.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘We’d better go back. Dad, thanks for everything. Let’s go, the future awaits.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘WELL SHE’S GOT him. I knew she would.’

  ‘Ingrid! Martyn’s the besotted one.’

  ‘I know that. I told you that ages ago. But she wanted him too. She wanted him. He suits her.’

  ‘So you’re happy then.’

  ‘Not exactly. But I am bowing to the inevitable.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose all mothers feel a bit possessive when their only son decides to marry. Of course, I’m certainly not gaining a daughter. Neither are you.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, you know … lose a son, gain a daughter. Anna has no intention of having a close relationship with me, or you for that matter. Now if Sally’s relationship ends where I think it will, Jonathan will be like another son.’

  ‘Mm, perhaps.’

  ‘Anna’s father seemed nice. The mother was a bit cool, I thought. Extraordinary that Martyn hasn’t met them. Still, it’s all been so quick.’

  ‘We’ve met Wilbur.’

  ‘True. The wedding is going to be in June, it’s only three months away. Anna’s father is coming up to London. He’s invited us to lunch next week. I suppose we’ll meet the mother just before the wedding. I must say, I’m fascinated to see what they’ll turn out to be like. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Everything is rushing away from me, I thought, as we drove to London. But having bowed my head in resignation and become a victim, I could only watch and suffer, love and wait patiently for my times with Anna. After all, I reflected ruefully, it’s more of a life than I ever had before.

  THIRTY

  ANNA’S FATHER WAS the kind of Englishman who impresses all who meet him as a gentleman. The Italians, the French, the Germans, have their aristocrats, but a true English gentleman adheres to a moral code which is subtly practised behind a screen of perfect good manners. Such a man was Charles Anthony Barton. He rose to greet us as we arrived for lunch at Claridges.

  ‘I’m so sorry my wife is not here to meet you. Our daughter was a little unwell.’ I remembered the daughter of the second marriage. We apologised for Sally’s absence. Her new executive position now demanded executive lunches.

  ‘Do sit down. What would you like to drink, Ingrid? May I call you Ingrid? Champagne perhaps?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘Whisky for me, thanks.’

  Anna and Martyn arrived. She brushed her father’s cheek with her lips.

  ‘Father. This is Martyn.’

  Charles Barton turned to greet my son. His head seemed to jerk as though someone had hit him. In a second he recovered. ‘It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Martyn.’

  He looked at Anna. ‘You have kept this young man very secret from us. I’m so pleased for you both.’

  We sat down slowly.

  ‘Sir. I feel very guilty. I should have driven through the night to beg your permission to marry Anna. But frankly I was concentrating so hard on getting her to say yes, that all else slipped my mind. Please forgiv
e me.’

  ‘What a graceful speech! Of course, I forgive you. I never expected such a request.’ He had recovered his poise and he studied Martyn carefully. ‘Anna, I can see that you are a very lucky girl.’

  ‘Now, Father, you should be telling Martyn what a lucky man he is.’

  ‘It’s obvious Martyn knows that already.’

  The waiter hovered. We ordered. The pleasantries unique to each such family gathering, and common to all, were exchanged. As the meal wore on I could see that Anna’s father, kind though he was, did not really like his daughter very much.

  As they kissed goodbye after lunch he tapped her arm for a second, and whispered something to her. I heard her reply:

  ‘I don’t agree. It’s not that strong …’ Then she caught me looking at her, and turning to Ingrid she said, ‘My father thinks Martyn looks rather like my brother Aston.’

  ‘Anna!’ Shocked, her father stepped back from her, and bumped into Martyn, who steadied him.

  They looked at each other. Martyn spoke. ‘It must be a terrible shock for you … the resemblance … if it’s there …’ He paused, distressed.

  ‘You have a kind son.’ Charles Barton turned to Ingrid. ‘Forgive the intrusion of sadness into such a happy occasion. It was just a very fleeting resemblance. Anna should not have repeated my comment. I have an appointment I must keep. We will meet again soon. Goodbye, Martyn. I’m pleased, indeed honoured by the thought of you as my son-in-law. Goodbye, Anna. Be happy, my dear.’ He shook hands. Frailer and older-looking than he seemed only an hour before, he left us.

  ‘Anna, Martyn told me that Aston died when he was very young.’ Ingrid spoke gently. ‘If there is a resemblance it must have been an awful shock to your father. Is it a strong resemblance?’

  ‘No, not strong. Perhaps … for a second … there is a slight resemblance. Martyn has very unusual colouring. So did Aston.’

  ‘And so do you,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘Yes. But it’s not so unusual in a woman.’

  ‘I dare say it’s startling enough, my dear,’ said Ingrid.

  I could see that Ingrid was disconcerted.

  Martyn the conciliator stepped in again.

  ‘Mum, we’re off to see a house now. All’s well. Let’s not get this out of perspective. Mum is pale and blonde. Dad is kind of swarthy and dark.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’ve got Mum’s pale skin, and your dark hair. It’s not all that uncommon, is it?’

  ‘Of course not. Anna’s father was naturally taken aback, that’s all.’

  ‘Poor Anna. Come along, a-hunting we will go. For a small, sweet house with only happy memories.’

  Ingrid and I were alone. We ordered another coffee.

  ‘Every time I feel everything will be all right, that girl does something unnerving or strange that makes my heart go cold. There are people in this world, innocent in their own way, who cause damage. Anna is one. She is going to harm Martyn, I’m certain. My first reactions were right. They always are. Oh, why didn’t I intervene earlier?’

  ‘Really, Ingrid, what are you so upset about? Her father noticed a resemblance to Anna’s brother — that’s not so terrible, is it?’

  The calming and soothing of others is always the best antidote to one’s own panic and dismay.

  ‘What happened to that boy? I’m certain you know the full story. Martyn told you. Didn’t he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There was a tragedy. She’s linked to it in some way.’

  ‘Ingrid, our son is marrying a beautiful, intelligent woman. Her father is clearly a very nice man. Her stepfather is charming. We haven’t met her mother yet, but I’m sure we’ll like her too. Her brother died when young. Anna is more complex and perhaps less easy as a daughter-in-law than you would have liked. But that’s all. Now stop. You’re worrying unnecessarily.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. This has just confirmed all my prejudices against her.’

  ‘Exactly! If you’d been relaxed about her from the beginning, this incident would have meant nothing.’

  ‘Mm.’

  But behind my words lay my own stalking fear. What dangerous pattern is being reworked here? Sudden fear for my family engulfed me. Liar! cried the policeman in my heart. Liar! The only fear that grips and eats your belly is the fear of losing her. You cannot win her outright, each day that passes teaches you that more clearly. But you hold on. Because you know there is no life for you without her.

  I smiled at Ingrid, and with many reassurances, I helped her on her way to Hell.

  I caught sight of us as we passed through the lobby, an elegant blonde woman of a certain age, and her companion, vaguely familiar perhaps, well dressed, strong good face. Of the evil in my soul there was not a trace.

  THIRTY-ONE

  ‘EVIDENTLY YESTERDAY was a good day for the lovers. The house was exactly what they wanted.’

  ‘Good.’

  Each day now revealed to me my treachery and its desperate ways with ferocious clarity.

  That evening, dinner with Ingrid had a brooding quietness which I knew concealed her anger.

  ‘I rang Martyn today. He didn’t like my enquiries. But for once I was a pushy mum. I’m not normally, am I?’

  ‘No. You’re normally very discreet.’

  ‘He’s renting his flat to someone at work, he says the rental will be handy for living expenses. Anna’s mews house goes on the market immediately. Martyn thinks it will sell easily. He intends using part of the trust fund to cover the cost of the new house. It’s been empty for a couple of months — needs some work, evidently. They can move in after completion. They want a quiet, family wedding at the end of next month. All very neat, very fast, quite clinical almost. So no Hartley wedding. A registry office affair and then a family lunch. They’re adamant. Evidently Anna’s mother is coming over a week before the wedding. At least we’ll meet her before the actual ceremony. We’ll have to invite her to lunch or dinner or something. Let’s hope Sally gives us a more traditional wedding. Apart from all my worries, I feel quite cheated.’

  ‘Sally will do everything the way you hope. She’s a treasure really, a wise, pretty, conventional middle-class girl.’

  ‘Thank God for Sally! Martyn’s changed so much, don’t you think? He’s very different. Oh, for that endless stream of lovely blondes. The Sunday lunch brigade.’

  ‘I think they’re gone for good.’

  ‘Yes, Anna’s the kiss of death to all that.’

  The phrase hung in the air for a second too long.

  ‘I asked Martyn about Aston.’

  ‘Yes? What did he say?’

  ‘Says it was all very sad, that Anna had told him ages ago that Aston had committed suicide. He was terribly young, I gather. I read an article the other day, it’s not all that uncommon. Oh dear, I don’t mean it to sound like that but …’

  ‘I know what you mean. It’s not unheard of. Puberty, dawning adolescence — it’s very hard for some boys.’

  ‘Martyn was quite angry with me by the end of the conversation. It was very much “This is my life, I know what I’m doing.” I’ve been replaced by Anna … she is his priority now … just as it should be.’ She looked at me quizzically. ‘Our own times are a bit fraught at the moment, don’t you think? You and me.’

  ‘A little. It will pass.’

  ‘If I didn’t know you so well, I could now be persuaded you were having an affair.’

  ‘Could you? I’m almost flattered.’

  ‘Well, don’t be. I couldn’t bear it. Frankly, I wouldn’t bear it.’ She challenged me with her eyes.

  ‘I’m duly warned,’ I said. The voice inside said, I’m not having an affair — not an affair. I’m consumed body and soul and mind. My whole existence is geared to only one thing, my time with Anna. My life before her was an efficient lie, in which you, Ingrid, played your part. There will be no life after Anna. There will be no life after her.

  With a weary smile of self-pity, I went
to my study to work for an hour. I wanted to give Ingrid time to slip into bed and sleep, without further conversation. A new ritual was being established. In its early days it required total discipline.

  I rang the next day. ‘Anna, I’ve got to see you.’

  ‘I know. I was going to ring you.’

  ‘Your place at three-thirty?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She opened the door, and I walked after her to the bedroom. From a beside-table drawer she took a framed photograph of a young boy. A long, angular, almost sullen face glared back at me. There was a resemblance to Martyn, undoubtedly. But as Anna had said, it was fleeting.

  ‘You see. It’s nothing, it’s nothing.’

  ‘Then why did you announce to all and sundry the remark your father made?’

  She put the photograph back in the drawer, which she closed carefully. ‘I was angry with him. Very angry. He should have said nothing.’

  ‘Did you notice the resemblance when you first saw Martyn?’

  ‘Of course. For a second … of course.’

  ‘Is that part of it? Part of your attraction to Martyn?’

  ‘No. No. I want to live a normal married life with him.’

  ‘What a strange way of putting it.’

  She smiled. ‘You pry. But not as much as you used to. You’re changing.’

  ‘I’m carrying my burden. I too have chosen my life, and the way I want to live it.’