‘Hugo, shall we go into my bedroom?’ I asked very gently.
I felt his whole body stiffen. His words, when they came, were harsh.
‘I had fully expected to make that suggestion myself, Laura. But it is unbecoming in a woman to make the first move, don’t you think?’
No, I don’t think. Not even slightly. Do you? But what a stupid mistake to make. After all the hard work, then I go and make a schoolgirl error. I know he likes to be in charge. I apologised as quickly as possible, but I was flustered and got it all wrong. Again.
‘I’m so sorry, Hugo. I didn’t realise you felt like that, but in any past relationships I’ve had it’s not been a problem. I can see that you think differently, so I’ll just have to learn. Please forgive me.’
I’d made things worse!
‘I appreciate the sentiment, but I really do not want to hear or think about you in any of the whore-like relationships that you might have had before we met.’
Even as recently as a few days ago, I would have reacted to his pomposity with irritation or anger. But now all I felt was a complete sense of failure. The fragile bond that I had worked so hard to create seemed to have been shattered.
‘Darling, I wasn’t a whore. Really I wasn’t. I told you everything before we were married. Like most girls of my generation, I did have a few relationships. But you know that you’re the first man I’ve ever loved, and the first man that I’ve wanted to marry and spend the rest of my life with.’
I was horrified to hear a slight quiver in my voice, but I couldn’t stop myself from apologising.
‘I’m so sorry. I just hoped we would make love, and I don’t really understand what I’ve done wrong.’
Hugo’s expression softened, and he grasped the top of my arms gently.
‘I think you have quite a lot to learn about marriage, and about how men think. I didn’t mean to imply that you are a whore, and I apologise. But there is a big difference between a casual relationship and a life long partnership. I need to respect you, Laura. And when you beg for sex it seems somehow demeaning. Do you understand?’
I wanted to shout ‘No, no, no’ at the top of my voice. But I didn’t.
Trying desperately not to cry, I took myself to bed. I hoped that Hugo would change his mind and join me, but as I half expected, he didn’t make an appearance. My actions had destroyed what should have been a beautiful moment.
It was a long time before I went to sleep that night. I spent the last hours of my longed for idyllic honeymoon in Venice deliberating over our relationship.
I was so very confused. I still am. Is it his age, do you think? Maybe it’s his class. What do you think, Imo.
I need to remember that he had planned the wedding and honeymoon to be perfect for me. He was kind and attentive, and bought me so many small gifts. Am I making too much of things that are really trivial? So what if he wouldn’t get on a vaporetto and I didn’t get my longed for gondola ride (vulgar, apparently). And maybe he saw my pushy attempts at getting him into bed as a form of criticism that he wasn’t pleasing me. Perhaps, despite evidence to the contrary, he has his insecurities too? Do you think that’s the answer?
Perhaps I just need to try harder.
The next morning, though, there was no mention of the events of the previous night as we prepared to leave for Positano. I’d been so looking forward to this part of the trip, but I just felt tired and dispirited. All I could think about was the fact that I’d been married for nearly a week, with only one forlorn attempt at making love.
Despite this sense of lingering sadness, the trip to Positano has been the best part of the holiday, although I do feel guilty writing this. The fact is that Hugo isn’t really interested in this part of Italy. He wouldn’t even consider venturing to Pompeii - which he thinks is an overrated tourist trap - and I didn’t dare suggest a trip up Vesuvius. But he was happy for me to take the driver and disappear whilst he amused himself with various papers and phone calls, and he was always pleased to see me when I got back. I think that he must have told the driver to let him know when we were due to arrive at the hotel, because there was always a chilled glass of wine being poured practically as I walked through the door.
But in some ways it was a relief that I didn’t have to spend all day and every day trying to please him. I had some time to myself. Perhaps I’m really not cut out for marriage. Did you find it difficult to start with? I don’t think so - you were glowing with happiness, as I remember.
There has, however, been a small improvement in our sex life! I’m learning. I need to make it clear to him that I am receptive, but not make any advances. I tried it last night - and he came to my room. So the improvement is that he wanted to try, but I’m sad to say that the lovemaking itself was still not good. No. I’m being polite. It was bloody awful. Yet another brief moment of almost violent penetration, which did absolutely nothing for me.
I know that I mustn’t suggest for a minute that he isn’t satisfying me, but strangely enough he made reference to it himself this morning.
‘Laura, I am aware that you struggle to enjoy sex. But whatever inhibitions you are suffering from will, I feel certain, disappear when we return to Oxfordshire. I will do all possible to help you over any hurdles.’ He picked up my hand and kissed it.
Do you know, it really hadn’t crossed my mind until this moment that Hugo genuinely thought that, if there was any problem at all, the problem was with me! Perhaps it is me? I nearly jumped to my own defence - an automatic response. But Hugo looked so concerned that I just nodded and said that I was sure we could rectify this over time.
So the honeymoon is over. I’ve learned a lot about Hugo, and a lot about myself. I never thought of myself as arrogant, but it’s clear that I now see everything as Hugo’s fault, when in fact he only ever tries to please me. And as for Hugo, he can’t stand any criticism - either real or implied. I wonder if this stems from his childhood? These things normally do, I believe.
With love and some sadness
Lxxxx
CHAPTER 21
Stella sat in the kitchen, which was the only room in the house that she found even vaguely comfortable. It was barely light, but she had made her way across from the cottage and let herself in with the back door key. This was the first time she’d been allowed to come and go as she pleased, and she wanted to be here for Laura when she woke up. Both of her children had suffered in their marriages in one way or another, and she couldn’t help feeling that this was because of their upbringing. She should have done a better job of hiding her own pain. And David should have had a bit more of a conscience, for that matter. What’s the point of a husband if all he does is bring you grief?
Unlike the cold, cheerless rooms in the rest of the house, the kitchen was pleasant in an old fashioned kind of way. The appliances were relatively new, but the cupboards looked like they were pre-war, and had been covered with many coats of paint over the years. It felt like a kitchen that had hardly changed through the ages, and Stella couldn’t help thinking whimsically of the number of meals that must have been served on the enormous scrubbed pine table, and the joys and sorrows it must have witnessed.
She hadn’t slept well the previous night, and wasn’t really surprised when an equally exhausted looking Imogen pushed open the door.
‘Good morning, love. What’s got you up so soon?’
Stella pointed to the pot of tea in front of her, and pushed a white china mug across the table to Imogen. She knew that Imogen would prefer coffee, but she lacked the energy to get out of her chair to make it.
Imogen merely gave her a shrug and with a distracted and rather watery smile she sat down with a muttered ‘Good morning’. Although she could see that Imogen’s mind was elsewhere, Stella needed to talk. Maybe Imogen understood what the hell had been going on in Laura’s life for the past ten years. She’d tried hard enough to get through to her daughter, but she’d always thought that Hugo was the barrier. Well he wasn’t a barrier any more.
Laura was so stubborn and would never admit defeat. She had always been like that. Stella could remember her trying to climb a rope that Will had strung up in a tree in the back garden when she was about ten. She just couldn’t do it - but she kept trying. Day after day. Falling flat on her back every five minutes, with rope burns on her hands and legs to boot. Nothing Stella could say would stop her. She had a look of grim determination, and eventually after about a week she did it. She made it to the top, and blow me if she never bothered again. She’d succeeded against the odds, and that was enough.
Now Stella was hoping that Imogen could shed some light on why her pig-headed daughter had cut herself off from the world.
‘I know you haven’t seen her since you and Will split up, Imogen, but Laura wasn’t happy with Hugo, you know. From the early days she just seemed to go down and down. She wouldn’t speak to me, and with you two incommunicado, she had nobody. She was lost without you.’
‘I know, Stella. I was lost without her too.’
Stella knew that this was true. She had wanted so much to help both her daughters - because Imogen was as good as, wasn’t she? And Will was miserable too. Divorce was always difficult, but Laura was still married for goodness sake. In spite of that fact, Stella had watched her sink further and further into a sort of wretched hopelessness, and it had torn her apart. The two friends had needed each other more than ever and shouldn’t have allowed an argument to come between them. Stella was fed up with being fobbed off by the pair of them. And Will. He was as bad.
‘Isn’t it about time somebody told me what really happened all those years ago? What could have been bad enough not only for you and Will to get divorced, but for Laura to stop speaking to you too? And why would nobody tell me the truth, because the story you all cooked up had ‘rubbish’ written all over it?’
Imogen closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip - a childhood habit that always indicated she was stressed. She leaned across the table and caught hold of Stella’s hand.
‘Oh God, Stella - I’m so sorry. You’re right - we didn’t tell you the truth. Will wanted to protect you from knowing what a dreadful person I really am, and I just wanted you to continue to love me.’
Stella could see that Imogen was fighting back the tears, but she resisted the temptation to go and give her a hug. That way, she might never find out the truth. She squeezed her hand gently, keeping quiet until Imogen was ready to continue.
‘I think in some ways Laura felt to blame, as she seemed to be taking the blame for just about everything at that time. I would have told you the truth ages ago, but I kept hoping that Will would come round. So I will tell you, but I’m going to make myself a coffee first. I think I need the caffeine fix!’
Stella didn’t want anything to distract Imogen, and weary as she was, finally getting to the bottom of something that had disturbed her for years was certainly worth getting up from her comfy seat for.
‘You talk, Imogen. I’ll make the coffee and some toast for us both.’
As she picked up the kettle, she heard Imogen take a deep, trembling breath and let it out slowly. She was speaking quietly, as if the shame of all those years ago was rising up to overwhelm her.
‘Do you remember that before we split up Will had started looking for a job on an aid project? He really felt that he could make a difference, and I was happy to go wherever he went - as a volunteer. There was one particular project that he’d been keen to work on. So keen, in fact, that he’d asked Laura to have a word with Hugo, to see if he would consider making a donation to the charity in question. Will thought that if he could raise some cash it would make it easier to get on the team.
‘We were still waiting to hear back from Laura when we got a surprise call from Hugo. He invited us for the weekend, and said an old school friend of his was going to be in the area and he would love us to join them. We were stunned. Hugo had done nothing to encourage us to visit in the few months since they’d been married, and I’d only seen Laura briefly on a couple of occasions - both times at the house in London rather than here - and never alone.’
Stella placed a mug of coffee in front of Imogen, who appeared to be miles away - no doubt reliving every second of that time.
‘This invitation came completely out of the blue, and we were delighted to accept. We thought Hugo was coming round to us being a significant part of Laura’s life. The day before we were due to come down here, Will got a phone call from the company in Ireland who were managing the aid project. They were looking for an engineer, and asked Will if he could possibly fly over to see them for a meeting on Saturday morning? Neither of us thought it odd that it was a Saturday, because with these sorts of projects you just do whatever it takes. Will even wondered if Hugo had come up trumps and sent a donation. A joke, in retrospect.
‘Obviously he had to go, but it was a bit late in the day to cancel the dinner invitation, particularly if Hugo had made the interview possible, so I decided to come here on my own. The company in Ireland made all the arrangements for Will, and said there would be tickets waiting at Heathrow for the Friday night flight. So he dropped me off here and went on to the airport.’
Imogen was grasping the hot mug in her hands, as if to find the strength to carry on. Stella put a plate of toast in the centre of the table and sat down to listen in silence, wondering where this was going.
‘Hugo had ordered a very smart dinner with compulsory evening dress. His friend Sebastian was charming, but a little smarmy for my tastes. Anyway, Hugo kept plying us all with drinks and it turned into a surprisingly pleasant evening.
‘After Hugo had dismissed the caterers, he got out the brandy. I said I didn’t want any, and neither did Laura, but Hugo insisted that I be tempted with something. I tried to refuse, but he became quite indignant, and said that as the host, he would be deeply offended if I didn’t take one of the liqueur selection he had bought specially for the occasion. I didn’t believe that for one moment, but this had been the friendliest I had ever seen Hugo, so I complied, as did Laura. We were both a bit tipsy, but certainly not drunk. It was getting fairly late by then - well after midnight, because we hadn’t started dinner until at least 9.30. Hugo mixed our drinks himself, and they were large measures. Laura and I obviously both had the same idea - it was better to drink up than to displease his lordship.’
Imogen pushed the coffee cup away from her, and put her head in her hands. As she spoke, she didn’t look at Stella. She just stared down at the table. Stella could feel panic rising in her chest. She knew this was going to be worse than she’d imagined, and now wished that she had never opened this can of worms. She could barely make out Imogen’s words as she began to sob.
‘That’s the last thing I remember until the next morning. When I woke up, I was in bed in the cottage. And I wasn’t alone. Sebastian was lying on top of the covers. He was naked… and so was I.’
She lifted a distraught face and looked at Stella, who felt a piercing stab of dismay.
‘God, Stella - you have to believe me, it was the worst moment of my life. What had woken me was the front door slamming, and the sound of feet running upstairs. When I turned to look towards the bedroom door, Will was just standing there with his hands by his sides. I’ll never forget the look on his face, Stella. I might have expected anger, but it was a look of such despair that it broke my heart. I crawled across the bed to him. I was too weak to stand up, but he just turned and walked away.’
Imogen put her head down on folded arms, and sobbed softly. Stella was appalled, and her heart was nearly breaking at the thought of what this must have done to her son, who was so much in love with his wife. She recalled the overwhelming pain she had felt when the first of David’s infidelities had come to light - it all came rushing back and she felt her son’s suffering as if it were her own. Why had he never told her? But she knew the answer. Shame. Her poor boy. She felt nothing but disgust for Imogen at that moment.
‘Are you telling me, lady, that you got so outrageou
sly drunk, you let this man - a stranger - into your bed? How could you, Imogen? How could you?’
‘No. No! Stella you have to believe me. I didn’t. At first, I thought that’s what must have happened, but although I could remember being a bit tipsy, I couldn’t for a minute remember feeling drunk. One moment both Laura and I were just a bit giggly. Next moment, wham! I didn’t remember a thing. When I eventually spoke to Laura, she said that she was the same, and that Hugo had put her to bed. She said he was ashamed of the pair of us.’
Imogen stood up and went to grab a piece of kitchen roll to wipe her eyes and nose. The sobbing had stopped, but tears were streaming down her face. Stella was still sceptical, and was working hard to contain her anger.
‘So what was Will doing there, Imogen? You obviously expected him to be away until the next day. Otherwise maybe you would have behaved a little better, and not torn my son into pieces.’
‘Do you think that’s what I wanted? Will said he took the flight to Dublin on Friday night, but when he arrived there was a message waiting for him to say the meeting had been cancelled and he was booked on the early morning flight back. He had no luggage, so he was back here before eight. I asked him what reason the company had given, but he had never followed it up. Not top of his agenda, he said.
‘Sebastian left immediately, and I never spoke to him again. Apparently Laura wasn’t aware of his existence before that night, and she’s told me that she never heard anything more about him. When she asked Hugo, he said he was too embarrassed to invite him again.’
Imogen returned to her seat opposite Stella, and wiped her face with the kitchen roll. A still simmering Stella caught her gaze.
‘I know what you must think,’ Imogen said. ‘But please let me finish before you judge me. After that night, Hugo told Laura that I was an appalling drunk who had broken her brother’s heart. He said I’d disgraced him in front of Sebastian, although I don’t see how I was in any way more culpable than his so-called friend, but he didn’t want me in the house. Will, of course, would be welcome. He asked her to agree never to see me again.
(2011) Only the Innocent Page 21