Gang of Four

by Liz Byrski

  ‘I came away for myself, Doug, not to create anything for you, and I’ll come back when I’m ready.’

  He swung around to face her. ‘And when will that be?’ he asked, his tone changing. ‘When will it suit you, Isabel, to return to your husband and family? This personal journey of yours, just how much longer is it going to take?’ His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  ‘I told you I wanted a year,’ she said. ‘You agreed to that. I expect to be back by June.’

  ‘I don’t agree to it anymore,’ he said, throwing himself into an armchair. ‘I want you to come back with me in January. It’s ridiculous, Isabel.’

  She swallowed hard, took off her coat and scarf, and laid them over her arm. ’When I first talked to you about this, Doug, I told you I didn’t need your agreement, and I don’t need it now. I’ll come back by June as I promised.’

  Doug thumped the leather arm of the chair with his fist. ‘Why, Isabel? Why, for God’s sake? What’s all this about?’

  And she realised that he had never actually asked her this before. In all the conversations they had had before she left, they had talked about how he would manage without her, what arrangements she had made for him. Occasionally they had talked about the places she was going, but he had never tried to find out what she wanted from this trip, from twelve months of time out.

  ‘I wanted time and space to myself without being at everyone else’s beck and call,’ she said now. ‘I wanted to discover more about Mum’s life, and to see places I’ve always wanted to see. But most of all I wanted to find out who I was in places where no one knew me, where no one had any expectations of me, where I could be free to do what I wanted, to be whoever I chose to be.’

  ‘Was it so bad being Isabel Carter, being married to me?’

  She wasn’t sure if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he really didn’t understand. ‘I can’t begin to explain it to you in those terms, Doug,’ she said. ‘And I can’t explain it like this, feeling as I do at this moment.’

  ‘How do you feel at this moment, Isabel? I’d have thought you’d be feeling pretty happy that I turned up to surprise you on Christmas Day, travelled all this way to be with you. So how do you feel?’

  She sank down into an armchair and put her face in her hands before finally looking up at him. ‘Well, to be honest I feel you’ve invaded my space, that your intentions were good but the effect on me is devastating. I know you meant well, Doug, but I’m offended by the way you’ve walked in here and trampled over everything. You’ve assumed that it’s okay to do this, you haven’t considered how it might feel for me. You don’t seem to understand or respect the fact that I have a life here and that I can’t – I don’t want to just switch it off because you’ve turned up –’ The ring of the doorbell seemed unnaturally loud and she jumped as it interrupted her.

  ‘Hadn’t you better answer it?’ Doug said as the bell rang again.

  Antonia stood uncertainly in the doorway, clearly surprised to find that Isabel was not alone. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I think we said four o’clock, Isabel?’

  ‘Yes, we did. Antonia, this is my husband, Doug. He arrived unexpectedly from Australia this morning. Doug, this is Antonia, who I stayed with in Portugal.’

  They shook hands and Isabel watched as Doug greeted her, the consummate diplomat, charming, polite, interested. He spoke briefly to Antonia, mentioning Portugal, the snow, Nuremberg and her imminent visit to the US.

  ‘My sister,’ she explained. ‘We think she does not have long to live. A stroke last year and now another. It seems important that we visit her, spend time with her now.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Doug said. ‘Family things are so important. Antonia, it’s wonderful to meet you but I’m sure you’ll understand that Isabel and I would like to be alone together after all this time. Perhaps you two could meet up again when you get back from New York?’ Isabel watched in disbelief as, ignoring her completely, he guided Antonia to the door. She had no words, no will, no energy to stop it happening. She felt like a child.

  Antonia glanced uncomfortably from one to the other, raising her eyebrows at Isabel. ‘Well, I … er … Isabel, will I see you again?’

  The words seemed trapped in Isabel’s throat. She wanted to hold on to Antonia, beg her not to leave. An elastic band was tightening in her head. She managed only to swallow the pain and ire, and force out a weak smile. ‘Of course. When will you be home again?’

  ‘Four weeks, perhaps,’ Antonia said. ‘Maybe a little longer. You will come to Monsaraz?’

  Isabel nodded. ‘Yes please, I’d like that. We have a lot to talk about.’

  ‘Then I will write when I am back and I will see you again in Monsaraz,’ Antonia said, and she put her arms around Isabel, holding her close for a brief moment, looking into her face. ‘I will be thinking of you, Isabel, you are in my heart.’ She smiled. ‘So nice to meet you, Mr Carter, I hope you enjoy your holiday.’

  Isabel watched her disappear around the corner to the staircase and turned back into the apartment in despair.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘That was okay, wasn’t it? She didn’t mind at all and you can catch up with her again in a few weeks, though heaven knows why you want to go back to Portugal.’ He rummaged in his hand baggage, which lay beside the chair, and drew out a beautifully wrapped package. ‘Here’s your present – hope you like it. Deb picked it, of course. Well, you know I’m no good at that sort of thing.’

  Isabel stared at the package. ‘I guess Deb wrapped it too.’

  He nodded with pride. ‘Good at it, isn’t she, the way she does the ribbons and stuff? Now, come and sit down here with me, Izzy, and let’s sort this out. We can’t have a row on Christmas Day.’

  Isabel sat in darkness where she had sat the previous night, looking out across the city. On the CD player Yvonne Kenny sang the Handel arias, Isabel’s Christmas gift from Luke; around her shoulders was a soft cream cashmere shawl from Deb; on the coffee table in front of her were the opal pendant, Deb’s choice for Doug’s gift, and the three letters from Grace, Sally and Robin. She was too overwrought to open them yet, and she sat there with a cup of coffee, allowing the beauty of the music to soothe her. Doug was fast asleep in the bedroom. Their conversation had swung back and forth for several hours, always dominated by his sense of surprise, and his own centrality. He seemed to have forgotten the anger and bitterness that had flashed between them prior to Antonia’s arrival. He was Father Christmas again, dispenser of gifts and goodwill, creator of plans, bearer of tidings from afar. Isabel, shaken by the day’s events, barely spoke, letting him talk, answering questions and trying to quell her growing panic and frustration. At seven she put together a simple meal of pasta – the fridge was not ready for Doug-sized meals. He ate it hungrily, washing it down with German beer, declaring himself ready for an evening walk. But in the short time it took her to wash the dishes he fell asleep on the sofa, and when he began to snore she nudged him gently and suggested he would sleep more comfortably in bed. Nodding and barely opening his eyes, he let her guide him to the bedroom. ‘Love you, Iz,’ he mumbled, hugging her. ‘Great to be here.’ And he dragged the duvet up to his chin.

  The hardest thing to cope with was the recognition that in terms of the way things had always been between them, Doug had done nothing wrong. He was the same as ever. He had always maintained a good-natured dominance, as a loving and responsible father, deeply involved in a demanding job, pleased and proud of his home and family, taking pleasure in providing for them, getting his way in everything, the mundane organisation of life taken care of for him by his wife and children. This was the way she had loved him and lived with him. It was she who had changed, she who, through separation, had been forced to face the fact that the assertive, strong-minded woman she had been in public was not the person she had been at home. She had been two women, the public and private. She went out into the world and made decisions, fronted up to difficult people, fought for what she believed in and didn�
��t give up. But at home she was another Isabel, a more traditional woman who rarely argued, who conceded most things to her husband, serviced his life and encouraged her children to do the same. He was the master of the house and the family, and, in a multitude of overt and subtle ways, he maintained a benign dictatorship enabled by her.

  She despised herself for her spinelessness, for what seemed a lack of integrity in this double life. But she also knew that while she had gone along with it for decades, she had done so because, despite irritations and resentments, it had, on the whole, been good. Now, though, the shades had gone from her eyes. She was different and she could never go back to what had been. How could she cut through the habits and assumptions of thirty-four years? She knew she must begin to plant the seeds of change that would help him to understand that her decision to take this trip was the fork in the road. When she’d told him that she did not need his agreement to go away, it was the first time she had ever really confronted him and held her ground, the first time she had wanted something passionately enough to oppose him and take it for herself. On reflection his eventual acquiescence was more astounding than she had realised at the time. She remembered how they lay in bed the night she had told him she wanted to go away, how they were separated by the chasm of their emotions and how, in the end, it had been Doug who had reached out and conceded the ground. Even Isabel had not realised where it would lead them. All she knew now was that it had to be resolved, that it was something they had to do together, and that she had no idea how to begin.

  Isabel’s commitment to take it slowly and gently work towards change was sorely tried over the next two weeks. She was determined to try to get it right with Doug while still battling her frustration and disappointment over her lost opportunity with Antonia. On Boxing Day they made phone calls to the children and Doug’s parents, and with them Isabel dutifully played the game of being thrilled by the wonderful surprise of his arrival. She took him to the famous toy museum where she knew he would love the huge and complex model railway. They ate lunch in a café off the square and walked by the river, and in the evening found a traditional German restaurant where Doug could have frankfurters and sauerkraut. She struggled to push away her resentment over things she had never before noticed, to reassure him of her love for him as a foundation for any sort of change. But it was in the bedroom that the cracks began to widen. Emotionally exhausted and still trying to live her other life, Isabel could not mask her feelings. She was accustomed to sleeping alone, and she was not ready to share her bed. She did not want to be held and kissed but she made an effort to respond; it was when Doug bent to take her nipple in his mouth and slipped his hand between her legs, she felt her skin grow cold and her muscles tense – and so did he.

  She felt for his hurt and anger, but it was not something that she could suddenly change. The chasm widened dramatically. They became like polite strangers, careful not to brush against each other for fear of being misunderstood. Doug, now as vulnerable as Isabel had been since his arrival, grew quieter and withdrew. They did more sightseeing, more walking, more eating, and slept at the far edges of the king-size bed. Klaus had invited them for dinner and then back to his apartment for coffee. Isabel had hoped it might ease the tension but it only made things worse. As the evening wore on Doug became even more withdrawn, and when they finally said goodnight and Klaus helped Isabel with her coat and kissed her on both cheeks, Doug took his coat and walked out, barely acknowledging Klaus.

  Back in their apartment he told her with icy calm that he now understood the reason for her frigidity. How long had she been having this affair with Klaus? How could she have taken him to dinner with her lover?

  Isabel was dumbstruck. ‘This is about us, Doug,’ she told him. ‘There’s no one else, not Klaus, not anyone. It’s about the way things are between us. The problem’s not an outsider, nor is it lack of love. It’s about the way we are, the way we’ve always been. I’ve changed in the last few months, I’m a different person, and my relationship with you needs to reflect that. I’m sorry – it must be hard for you to understand. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you just as much as ever, but I need a new way to make this work.’

  He shook his head wearily. ‘It’s worked for thirty-four years,’ he said, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. ‘Why shouldn’t it keep on the same way? I’m still the same person.’

  ‘But I’m not! Look, please let me try to explain …’

  The days were long, tense and painful but they did make some progress. Doug began to listen without always cutting her off, and he began to ask questions. She held him, stroked his hands, his face, his hair, kissed him, did everything she could to try to assure him of her love, but that was as far as she was able to go.

  ‘Come back with me, Iz,’ he asked her again the day before he left. ‘Let’s sort this out at home.’

  She stroked his cheek, shaking her head, tears sharp in her eyes.

  ‘I can’t, Doug, not yet. I’m not ready. Please remember what we talked about, about how we can be different.’

  He clung to her as the flight was called. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I want it all back as it was before. You will come back, won’t you?’

  ‘I’ll come back,’ she told him. ‘I love you, of course I’m coming back, but not to the way it was. We can make something new, I know we can.’

  She stood in the airport lounge at Frankfurt watching as the steps were drawn back from the aircraft and it taxied slowly to the runway. Part of her wanted to go with him, to pretend that everything was as it had always been, but she knew it would not work. She had to finish what she had begun. Barely able to see through her tears she took the airport bus back to the city and then the train back to Nuremberg.

  Waiting for her on the doormat was a brief note from Antonia in New York. Her sister was dying and she would stay with her until the end, another month, perhaps a little longer.

  I was disappointed not to talk to you at Christmas, Isabel. Perhaps you have gone back to Australia already, but I hope you stick to your plan to come to Portugal again. We have much to talk about, things I cannot put in a letter. I am asking that you have patience with me and believe that I will be in touch again as soon as I am able to leave here.

  Isabel sighed, folding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. She was caught in limbo. Exhausted by the emotional tension of the last two weeks and weary of discovering new places, she resolved to stay on in Nuremberg until news of Antonia’s return. Then she would slowly make her way back to Portugal. She sank once more into her solitary life and the work she had set herself of documenting Eunice’s life in Europe in as much detail as she could. The gentle silence of the snow-clad German winter cocooned and soothed her until it was time to move on once more.

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘So how bad is it?’ Sally asked as Grace pulled out of the airport car park and onto the main road back to Perth.

  ‘Bad. The mastectomy itself was successful but there are complications. She has secondaries. It’s not looking good at all. She keeps talking about that pain in her chest too. D’you remember she always said that everything she ate gave her indigestion? Well, that’s come back. It’s actually a problem with her heart, they’re doing tests on that today.’

  ‘And how’s she coping?’

  ‘She’s okay – as okay as anyone could be after surgery and losing a breast, but she doesn’t know the rest of it yet. I know her oncologist. He wants her to get some strength back before he breaks the news.’

  Sally stared out of the window, slightly confused that she was back home but finding it unfamiliar.

  ‘Is that a good idea? I mean, shouldn’t she be told?’

  Grace shrugged as she negotiated a lane change. ‘Who knows what’s best? I’m sure I don’t. I wish he hadn’t told me, though, because it makes it hard to act as though the worst is over.’

  In the back seat Steve was half listening, half taking in the unfamiliar flatness of the landscape. G
race glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. She had been pleasantly surprised when he shook hands and hugged her at the arrivals gate. ‘Sally told me about your needlework project,’ he’d said, steering the luggage trolley through the crowds. ‘And I’m so sorry about your dad, but it was good that you were home in time to be with him.’ He wasn’t handsome but there was something open and attractive about his face and his easy physical manner. He wore a soft old leather jacket, a dark green shirt and chinos, and seemed perfectly relaxed finding himself in a new country and under inspection by the first of what would be quite a number of Sally’s friends.

  Eyes still on the road Grace reached across and squeezed Sally’s hand. ‘It’s great to see you. You were so brave to do what you did.’

  ‘That’s what Steve says,’ Sally replied. ‘It really doesn’t feel that way. I was devious and selfish, and I caused a lot of hurt and disruption for everyone.’

  ‘I see you haven’t stopped being hard on yourself,’ Grace said, and glanced up to see Steve grinning at her in the mirror. ‘And you’re the only woman I know who had to break a man’s leg to catch him.’

  ‘Yeah, and she didn’t even need to.’ Steve laughed. ‘I was just standing there begging to be caught.’

  Grace had been uneasy when Sally had called to tell her that Steve was coming home with her. ‘What – for good?’ Grace had asked.

  ‘No, he’s coming to see Australia. We haven’t decided what we’re doing really, but Steve has to write a book so he’ll have to come back to Berkeley in August. This’ll give us a chance to decide what we’re going to do from then on.’ Grace had been visited by the ghost of her former self, a voice that urged her to warn Sally to be cautious and not rush into anything. She had taken some pleasure in ignoring the voice but it was only when she met Steve and saw how he and Sally seemed to fit together that its last whispers evaporated.