by T A Williams
So far, David’s mother’s birthday party had proved to be as ghastly as she had feared. Officially billed as Marjorie’s sixtieth birthday, Natalie knew for a fact that this milestone had been passed several years earlier, but had refrained from commenting. As expected, the other guests were a collection of the great and, if not the good, then certainly the well-heeled of London society. David’s father, Wilberforce, had until very recently been the senior partner in a large and long-established law firm. Given his career choice, it was little surprise that his only son had followed him into that profession. And, as Natalie knew only too well, David was expected by everybody to achieve a position of pre-eminence in the London law scene in his turn. Increasingly over the past few months, Natalie had been trying to make up her mind as to whether in fact she wanted to be at his side when he did so. She and David had been arguing more and more often and she sensed that their relationship was reaching a tipping point. She drained her third glass of champagne and went back into the house in search of another.
As she went in through the French windows, she found herself confronted by a sea of suits and cocktail dresses. Over in the far corner of the room, she spotted Marjorie, deep in conversation with a man she recognised as David’s boss, Mr Lightfoot. Natalie had no hesitation in heading off in the opposite direction. She went along the corridor to the kitchen, helping herself to a fresh glass of champagne from a tray carried by one of the catering staff as she did so. The kitchen had been taken over by the caterers and, as she walked in, she spotted Winston the cat, her only friend and ally here, as he slipped through the door into the old pantry, no doubt looking for a place of refuge. Natalie decided to follow his example. She grabbed a couple of sausage rolls from a silver platter and followed the cat into the larder, pulling the door half-closed behind her. It was cool in there. The only window had been covered with wire mesh to keep the flies out and the narrow room was perpetually in twilight as a result.
‘Hello, puss.’
Recognising her voice, Winston turned and came over to her with a plaintive meow, tail standing stiffly in the air. Natalie sat down on a packet of toilet rolls, set her glass on the floor beside her and stroked the old cat while he rubbed himself against her legs. She stuffed one of the sausage rolls into her mouth and offered him the other one. He sniffed it fastidiously before taking it delicately from her fingers and settling down to eat, purring to himself as he did so. Natalie took a mouthful of champagne and sat back, glad to get out of the babble of chatter for a brief while.
She looked round the larder, her mood still gloomy, as it had been for months now. Things had started out so well with David four years earlier. She had met him when she was at her lowest ebb, shortly after the accident that had taken both her parents. At the time she had convinced herself it was love, and had embarked upon an affair with him that had led quite naturally to their moving in together and then to their engagement. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, she found herself coming to the realisation that it probably hadn’t been so much true love as a deep need for support and company at what had been a desperately lonely time. Their life together had been very good at first, but doubts, serious doubts, had started to set in as the months and years went by. She saw now that he had changed since those early days and she was analytical enough to see that she, too, had changed. He had been right behind her when she had made the decision to give up teaching and go back to university to get her doctorate. Now, her studies no longer appeared to interest him. The fact that she had been increasingly busy with her thesis had impacted on their home life together, and his encouragement had dried up as a result. It had become increasingly clear to her that he would really prefer a wife who would look after him in the kitchen and the bedroom, rather than an intellectual equal.
And now? Yes, she now had her PhD after so much hard work, but she didn’t have a job yet. Could it be that she would end up like David’s mother, running an immaculate house for her successful husband, her role reduced to that of gracious hostess and producer of children to continue the line? Certainly, the more they had spoken about it, the clearer it had become that David’s family, if not David himself, saw it that way. And how did she see it? Well, she thought to herself, as she sipped her wine and watched the old cat, the one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted more out of life.
‘Sausage rolls! What on earth were they thinking of?’
At the sound of the voice, Natalie jumped, spilling champagne on her fingers. She turned towards the door, but the conversation was taking place out in the kitchen. She couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but there was no mistaking it.
‘Sausage rolls, of all things! I told them I wanted refined canapés, not the sort of thing you can find in any local pub.’ Natalie recognised Marjorie’s acid tones, mildly surprised that her future mother-in-law was admitting to being familiar with the inside of a pub.
‘The sushi and the goat’s cheese crostini were pretty good, but I quite agree with you, Mummy; sausage rolls, indeed!’
David’s big sister, Emily, was sounding more and more like her mother as the years went by. Natalie glanced down at the cat who was thoroughly enjoying his sausage roll and reflected that she, too, had enjoyed the one she had just eaten. Then, to her surprise, the topic of conversation on the other side of the pantry door changed to a subject much closer to home.
‘I tell you who would like the sausage rolls.’ Emily’s voice was contemptuous.
‘Yes, I daresay you’re right. By the way, I haven’t seen her for a while. Have you?’
‘The last time I saw her she was out in the garden glugging Daddy’s champagne.’
‘I do think she could have made a bit more of an effort. What on earth was she thinking of when she chose that frock she’s wearing?’
‘The price, Mummy, I would think. From a charity shop, I have no doubt.’
‘Or the supermarket.’ Marjorie sounded bitter. ‘Really, she could have tried a bit harder. After all, she knew Gordon Lightfoot was going to be here.’ Natalie listened as David’s mother went on to reel off a list of names of other notables from the legal profession and did her best to stifle a growing sense of anger. Along with the anger came the realisation that what she was hearing just confirmed what she had been thinking for months.
‘I really don’t know what David sees in her.’
‘Well, she is quite pretty.’ Marjorie even managed to make a compliment sound like an insult. ‘It’s just that she’s so…’ She paused for thought. ‘So unkempt. She just doesn’t make any effort at all. A bit of make-up, some nice clothes and she would really be quite good-looking.’
‘And a change of attitude’s long overdue.’
‘Of course it’s because she’s a student, I suppose. Ever since she’s been at college she’s been getting so scruffy and bohemian. And she’s far more interested in her studies than in David. Doesn’t she realise how important it is to him to have a fiancée who can support him and make the right impression? He’s got his career to think of, after all.’
‘She’s only studying history, after all, and it’s not as if she’s likely to do anything meaningful with it.’ Emily’s tone was dismissive and Natalie found herself gripping her glass so hard she was in danger of crushing it in her hand. She made a conscious effort to relax her grip, but it wasn’t easy. After three hard years doing a PhD in medieval history, she knew full well just how much work had been involved. She had lost count of the late nights, early starts and the interminable days she had spent in university libraries all over the UK and France. She had lost a stone in weight, developed dark rings under her eyes and ceased to have any kind of social life, with or without David. The PhD was done now, but she knew it would take her months to recover from the effort. She growled to herself as she listened to the conversation in the kitchen.
‘And it’s French history of all things, and ancient at that. Surely she could have tried to do something British.’ David’s mother’s voice dropped a litt
le. ‘Of course, she’s only half British. I suppose that explains it. How on earth she thinks she can make a living with something like that I really don’t know.’
‘Of course it’s only a hobby really, Mummy. After all, she knows she can rely on David to support her and keep her.’
‘Poor David. He deserves so much better.’
There was the sound of movement in the kitchen as the caterers returned. From the jingling, it was pretty obvious a tray full of glasses was being set down on the table. Natalie heard the clicking of high heels retreating down the corridor as Marjorie and Emily left them to it. Natalie glanced down at the cat who had finished eating the meat out of the sausage roll and was licking his paws. She resisted the temptation to gulp down her champagne, and limited herself to taking a few small sips while she did her best to regain some sort of calm, while her every instinct was crying out for her to follow Marjorie and Emily into the living room and tear their hair out. The cat looked up and caught her eye.
‘Ever contemplated a double homicide, cat?’ Natalie kept her voice down to a whisper and the cat just rewarded her with a yawn. She sat there, sipping her wine, until the glass was empty, resisting the urge to scream or weep. She had realised months ago that subconsciously she had been seeking a surrogate family when she had hooked up with David. It had been some time into the relationship before she had been introduced to his parents and it hadn’t taken long before she had begun to realise that this was not going to happen. As people, she and they were too different and these hopes had been crumbling more and more as she got to know them better. Now she knew they were totally crushed. Of course, she had been coming ever closer to this realisation, but it was only now, hearing it from the horse’s mouth, that it finally sank in. She could expect nothing from them. She was on her own, totally on her own; except for David, even if that was by no means certain any longer. She knew that she had to find him and seek reassurance from him. In spite of their arguments and in spite of her doubts, she desperately hoped she could still count on him, even if his family had shown its true colours. Angrily, she wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes and pulled herself to her feet.
Her instincts made her pick up the remains of the cat’s sausage roll before leaving, although she was in no mood to do favours for Marjorie. The cat, taking the hint, stood up, pushed the door open and strode through back into the kitchen, most probably on the lookout for another sausage roll. Natalie took a deep breath and followed him, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the two girls rinsing champagne glasses. They could think what they liked. She knew she had to find David as soon as possible.
She dropped the bits of pastry in the bin, wiped her hands on a paper napkin and walked as calmly as she could along the corridor and into the living room. Avoiding making eye contact with any of the crowd of people in there, she scanned the room for signs of her fiancé. He wasn’t there, but she had a shrewd feeling she knew where she would find him. She went out onto the terrace and, from there, onto the lawn. At the far end, to one side of the rose arbour, was the little lawned area, surrounded by a laurel hedge and accessed through a wooden gate, that was always referred to as the secret garden. In there was a swing bed and lying stretched out on the leaf-patterned seat was David. His eyes were closed and he looked as if he was asleep. Natalie went straight over to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.
‘David, wake up.’ Her voice sounded strange to her, half-choked. His eyes opened at once and he sat up. He hadn’t been sleeping, but the dark rings under his eyes testified to how tired he was. In spite of his relaxed pose, his tie was still done up and he had been careful to avoid creasing his trousers, while the grey jacket of his suit was hanging neatly from the side of the frame. He immediately saw that something was wrong. Shifting over to one side, suppressing a yawn, he took her hand and guided her down onto the seat beside him.
‘What’s up, Nat? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
She took a deep breath and recounted the conversation she had overheard, hoping she could count on his support. However, it soon turned out that her confidence was misplaced. As she came to the end of her tale, he reached for his champagne glass and swallowed half in one big gulp.
‘I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Nat, but you must understand that Mum has a point.’
Natalie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘A point? What’s that supposed to mean, David?’
‘You have been working very hard, after all. She’s right about that.’
‘I’ve been doing a Ph-fucking-D, David. Of course I’ve been working hard.’ She was doing her best to keep her voice down, but it wasn’t easy.
‘And that’s another thing. Since you’ve gone back to being a full-time student, your language has deteriorated most awfully. You never used to swear like that.’
Natalie caught his eye. They had argued about this before. ‘We both did, David, if you remember right. It’s just that you’ve now gone all prim and proper. Listen to yourself. You sound like an old maid.’
‘Don’t be so silly. I’ve told you tons of times, in my position I can’t allow myself to use words like that. It would be more than my job’s worth. And I do think you could make an effort to tone it down a bit, if not for my mother, at least for me.’
‘After what your precious mother has been saying about me, I am very, very close to telling her just what I think of her in good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon.’ For the first time an expression of worry crossed his face.
‘For God’s sake, don’t do that, Nat. My boss is here, after all. You can’t let me down like that as well.’
‘As well? What does that mean? So you think I let you down? Just like your mother and your evil little sister were saying?’
‘Not all the time, Nat. Of course not. But you could make a bit of an effort; nicer clothes, a bit of make-up. Why, you even cut your own hair.’
‘I cut my own hair because I’m living on a student grant and I haven’t got the money to go to expensive hairdressers. And there’s no way I can afford the sort of dresses the women back there are wearing, even if I wanted them.’
‘I’d give you the money. All you have to do is ask.’
‘I haven’t asked you for any money so far and I’ve no intention of starting now. I pay my own way in this world and if I’m not classy enough for you and your precious family, you know what you can do.’ Natalie was furious with him but, deep down, maybe she wasn’t as surprised as all that. For months now she had sensed a change in his priorities, in his allegiance. Now he wasn’t even trying to understand how she had been made to feel. The fact that he was teaming up with his mother to criticise her, painful as it was, wasn’t completely unexpected. ‘Have you got that?’ She could hear the anger in her voice. He could hear it, too.
‘You going to swear at me again? For crying out loud, Nat!’
‘Don’t think I’m not tempted. You’re my fiancé, David. You’re supposed to be on my side. I’ve been working my butt off for three long years now and yet, to them, I’ve just been wasting my time. They called it a hobby.’
‘Well, it is, really, isn’t it? I mean, we both know that you’re going to end up as a mum, looking after our children. You’re never going to make a living out of medieval history now, are you?’
Natalie was speechless for a few moments as she heard the same note of disdain in his voice she had heard from his mother. Finally, she looked up and their eyes met. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s meant to me to have got my PhD. I didn’t do it for kudos, or respect, and it certainly wasn’t for money. I did it for me, for my own personal development, for my future. And yet, all I am to you is a baby-producing machine. Well, like it or not, I’ve chosen my path and I do intend to make a career out of it.’ Her head cleared as she came to the inevitable conclusion. ‘I think maybe you’d be better off with somebody else. Somebody who can provide you with the sort of trophy wife you and your bloody family are looking for.’
>
He dropped his eyes and turned away, reaching for his jacket. ‘Maybe I would.’ He wasn’t speaking very loud, but she heard every word quite clearly.
‘Then you’d better have this back.’ She found herself twisting the engagement ring from her finger, the sunlight glittering in the cut facets of the cluster of diamonds as she did so. ‘You can tell your mother she doesn’t need to worry any more.’ She thrust the ring at him and headed for the gate. Behind her she heard him call her name, but only very quietly so as not to disturb any of the guests. She ignored him and left.
It was a ten-minute walk to the station. When she got there she discovered that the next train to get her back to Cambridge would not be along for half an hour. She walked right to the far end of the platform and sat down on her own on a bench in the sun. It would have been very easy for her to bury her head in her hands and cry, but she had no intention of letting that happen until she was well away from David and his family. She dug in her bag for a tissue and blew her nose, taking a series of long, slow breaths to calm her racing heart.
She needed to speak to somebody, badly. In Cambridge there was just Amy, her oldest friend, and a few other girls she knew fairly well, and there was her supervisor, with whom she had grown pretty close, but that was about it. It was almost five years now since the crash that had robbed her of her parents. Without brothers and sisters, without her mother to turn to, and without David, that only left one guaranteed shoulder to cry on. She pulled out her phone and checked the time. It was almost three. In France, it would be almost four o’clock. Her grandmother should have woken from her afternoon snooze by now. Natalie flicked through her contacts until she reached Gran and pressed the green button.
It was a while before she answered, but the old voice was unmistakable. ‘Oui, allô.’
‘Hello, Gran. It’s me, Natalie.’ She switched effortlessly into French.
‘Natalie, my darling girl, hello.’ Her mother and her grandparents had always spoken to her in French and Natalie had grown up bilingual as a result. As her doctoral thesis had been on the Cathars of southern France, the ability to read and speak fluent French had been a massive help to her in her research.