Judge Savage

by Tim Parks

  The car sped through bright streets. Max had done his concert Sunday, she said. He was wonderful. Not a single fudge. In three weeks, Daniel hadn’t once thought of the young man. I’m pleased, he said. Hopefully they’re going to let him play at the town-hall, next month. He felt frail and inadequate. It’s the sudden change of air, he thought. One feels so vulnerable sitting in a moving car. Funny way to go home, he whispered at last. The young policeman was driving rapidly along the ring road. In the mirror Daniel managed to focus on a regular patrol car in close attendance. He had a sudden reaction, a frightening sense of entrapment. Jerking his neck round brought a jab of pain. Where were they taking him? Just wait and see, Hilary said. He turned back and found her prim, petite features lit up in delight. Her eyes shone beneath a fresh perm. The perfume was strong and sweet. My wife! She had his hand in hers, triumphant. We’re going home, she said.

  The car turned up the steep hill. Another police car was parked outside a fresh brick wall. Tom, Max and Christine came towards them as Daniel rose carefully to his feet and looked along a paved garden path with sieved and seeded soil either side. Dad! Dad! How wonderful, he said, embracing the boy. What a wonderful surprise! It’s great, Tom was saying. It’s a fantastic place, Dad. Our home, Hilary announced. At last!

  Although it was July, a fire was burning. Just for effect, Christine said. A couple of logs. You can burn wood here. The woman was pouring champagne. One glass to welcome you and I’m off. Same here, Max agreed. How are you feeling, Mr Savage? Already Daniel was in an armchair, its blue upholstery new to him. There were flowers everywhere. The room was quivering with colour. If you knew what a help Max has been! Hilary hurried to and fro. I thought blue would be right, don’t you think? Then the walls exploded with sound. Tom was playing Get Back. The beautifully resonant piano, hugely present in the centre of the room, hadn’t changed his gung-ho style. He hammered it out, held the pedal down hard. The new brick strained to contain the noise. Please, Daniel protested. The house would burst. He got to his feet. Tom! One sip of champagne had made him dizzy. A bunch of roses was too pink. Then the sudden silence was equally stunning. I’m still not well, he muttered.

  Come in the kitchen, Dad! Come on! The adults laughed at the boy’s excitement. Daniel followed him across the ample sitting room, already carpeted, fully furnished, there were even paintings he didn’t recognise. You open it, Tom said. Daniel pushed the kitchen door, and at once some wild black thing tore past his legs and chased its tail round and round, yapping furiously. Out of my sitting room, Hilary shouted. She was laughing, but serious. Out! Max grabbed the creature and tugged it back. I’m overwhelmed, Daniel said smiling. I can’t believe it. He stood at the door to say goodbye to Max and Christine. How elegant she looked! She had a girlish red ribbon in her hair. It’s only sad that Sarah couldn’t be here. The police car was still at the gate. House arrest, Daniel remembered. Forbidden to drive, he was entirely dependent now.

  You’ve done everything! he told his wife. It’s been fantastic, she agreed. With what happened to you everyone was so generous. Everything was speeded up so you wouldn’t have to come back to a packed-up flat. Look at the flowers people have sent. And frankly I had to have something to be busy with when I wasn’t in the hospital. I couldn’t bear just sitting alone. I’ve been working like crazy. Look! She had framed her embroidery in a gilt oval behind the piano, a simple lattice and two roses intertwined. How clever. That’s us, she smiled. It will always remind me of the hospital. My first embroidery for thirty years. He shook his head. What about the money, he asked. All sorted, she said. Not to worry.

  When Tom had been packed off to bed, she played very softly for him. With the windows open to the fields, the air in the house was fragrant. Don’t turn the light on, she warned. Only trouble with the country is it’s full of flies. She played something soft and slow, music that moved as delicately as the dying light. He came to stand beside her, and as she played, so gently and softly, but not solemn, some slow sonata from memory, they grew intensely conscious of each other, conscious that happiness was within their grasp now, the life they had planned of solid affection surrounded by sensible beauty, the house, the flowers, the paintings, the rich music rolling out into a peaceful countryside. I can’t believe it, he whispered, he leaned down and kissed her hair. She broke off. I did it all for you, she said. They were silent, both watching her small square hands on the keyboard as if waiting to see what they might do next. If you have problems, at first, she murmured, getting back into things, I can help. I don’t need to teach till September now. I don’t need to teach at all, if you don’t want. I can drive you around, read your papers for you in the evening. I’m going to do some more embroidery. She looked up. I’m going to relax for you.

  Daniel sighed. She struck up something from Chopin. He had always begged his wife to relax. He kept his hand on her neck as she played. How straight and somehow expressive of her whole character, the shoulders were, the back, the erect, controlled posture. Riliry, he whispered. She was lavishing attention on the piece, determined that it seduce both her husband and herself, it must generate an enchantment worthy of their dreams. He had survived. They had survived. The notes lingered in the air. Shadows darkened the new furniture. How far away he was now from that awful moment in the high-rise car park, from the medicated anxieties of the hospital! Only three weeks had been lost. I am neither desperate to drag it out, Father Shilling had said, nor eager to go soon. Did he mean that?

  Little trills subsided over the last gentle breathing of the bass, the piece expired on a broken chord. Mmm, Daniel applauded, perfect, he said. Suddenly, he felt completely well. Lightly, he kissed her neck, smelt its lovely perfume. Hilary has such excellent taste in perfume. I should phone Sarah, he announced. Not now, she murmured. Let me play something else. I’ve thought out a whole concert for you. All your favourites. He looked at his watch. It’s an hour later there, isn’t it? If I don’t phone now, it’ll be too late. Oh don’t be boring, she told him, why do you always think of Sarah when we’re enjoying ourselves?

  She began playing again. But the sentiment was coercive now. Daniel felt it. I am being constrained. Yet this was his daughter he wanted to phone. He hadn’t called Sarah at all while she was away and soon she would be back. I must call her. He went to sit on the small sofa beneath the window beyond the fire. Then not having thought about it at all till now, he said: Shouldn’t her exam results have come through, have you got them?

  Abruptly, Hilary stopped. As the sound quickly died, the distant buzz of the television became audible. From upstairs it seemed. She has allowed Tom to have a TV in his room! Hilary walked round the huge piano and came to sit on the edge of the sofa, turned toward him, bowed forward, a little tense. Her hair was neat, her face prettily made up. She took his hands, sought his eyes. Ready for it? she asked.

  What?

  Three fails, she said.

  Daniel stared into the pleasant space around him. A tall vase crammed with flowers stood on the table. Through the open window, presumably from the estate at the bottom of the hill, came the very distant jangle of a late ice-cream van. He sighed.

  The examination board got in touch with me before the results were announced, Hilary said. It seems she covered all three papers with obscenities and Biblical verses. But Hilary, why didn’t you . . . I could hardly tell you the moment you came out of a coma, she said, could I? Or between one operation and another? You should have, Daniel said. He pushed her hands away, got to his feet, looked about the room. This was awful. In extreme agitation, Hilary wailed: I thought you were going to die, Dan! I was terrified. When the school called, I hardly registered what they were telling me. I was thinking of you!

  I must call my daughter, he thought. Have you spoken to her? What did she say? Why did she do it? Get me the phone number. He couldn’t see the phone in the room. Where’s the phone?

  Dan, for God’s sake, sit down. Let me . . . He had started to sit, he felt suddenly dizzy, then
found himself on his feet shouting, But how could you? How could you arrange all this, this – he gestured to the flowers, the piano – and imagine I was going to have a happy evening, with such miserable news waiting for me? He was beside himself. His patched eye throbbed. It’s grotesque. Grotesque. After a year’s peace they were shouting again. He heard her voice raised over his: I don’t see why we should ruin our lives just because she wants to ruin hers. She’s your bloody daughter, he was protesting. He was exhausted. Three fails! Alarms pulsed round his gums and teeth. Where’s the phone? he demanded. Tight-lipped, she said they hadn’t connected any of the houses yet. She had a mobile. She kept forgetting to charge it.

  Can I call Italy from a mobile? Give it to me. Dan, Dan, she said, Dan, listen, Sarah’s not in Italy. He stared at her. Where is she? Hilary didn’t reply. She was shaking her head quite theatrically. He kicked out at her sofa. He could see at once that she cared for the thing. And immediately it was like old times. His body stiffened with the shock of the blow. Where is she? Why wasn’t I told? Somehow Hilary was standing by the French window looking out across the raw slope of the garden. It hardly makes sense, she said, to have the poor policeman hear us yelling at each other, does it. The policeman? I don’t give a toss about the policeman! It’s my daughter I’m . . . Well, what about Tom, she spun round. Tom? He was confused. What about Tom? You come back and the first thing the boy has to hear is that you’re shouting at me. Tell me where Sarah is, he demanded.

  Calm down and I’ll tell you. She tried smiling now. I just hoped it might wait for tomorrow. I wanted to give you a nice homecoming, time to get your strength up. Tell me, damn it! Then he spied the drinks cabinet. It was an elaborate thing in some dark satiny wood with a frosted glass door. Hilary has been spending money. You’re not supposed to drink, she said. For Christ’s sake, tell me! He poured from a bottle, barely registering how unsteady his hand was. The stuff splashed onto the carpet. Her carpet, he thought. Dan! Tell me! He was ready to kick again. I’ve lost control, he realised. But the thought was a relief too. This argument is a relief. Already he felt better, even exhilarated.

  Last Tuesday, she said. She was very tense. Yes? Making a huge attempt to calm himself he sat down abruptly sending another splash of whisky onto the upholstery. He poured the whole glass down his throat. Please Dan! The effect was an instant flooding and blurring. His hand came up rapidly to his head. He covered his eyes. Just tell me everything. Quickly.

  On Tuesday, she repeated. She also sat down. Daniel waited. She just suddenly appeared. Let me think. Everything had already been moved in here, or almost, I had . . . Where is she? No, listen, please Dan, you won’t understand if you don’t know what the situation was. I had some people shifting the last stuff from Carlton Street in time to be ready for today. Also it seems Christine is eager to get some of their stuff in there as soon as possible, but that’s another story, I don’t know what’s going on with them. Daniel was suddenly struck by the cautious tone in his wife’s voice, her roundabout way of telling. She is looking for mitigating circumstances, he thought. At once he was doubly hostile, but at the same time more attentive.

  I was about to close up Carlton Street, she was saying, I was planning on sleeping here for the first time – and there was a phone call. From the transport police. She’d arrived at Dover, on the train. She’d travelled all the way without paying. All the way from Italy? From Perugia. They said they’d put her on the train up here but only on the understanding that we picked her up at the station and paid the whole fare, from Italy, when we got her. She’d told them she was sick and the whole story about the bottle-top again. She needed to see a doctor. She hadn’t eaten for forty-eight hours, because of this obstruction, all kinds of things.

  But that was three days ago. Where is she now? Wait, Hilary said, more firmly. So I went . . . Why don’t you give a damn about Sarah? he demanded. Daniel, please. How could you sit at the piano and tell me not to be boring when we have a major crisis on our hands? Dan, if you hear me out perhaps you’ll understand. Again they were staring at each other with intense hostility. So I picked her up at the station, Hilary said, and paid her fare, plus a considerable fine. Obviously they’d made trouble for her at passport control, with her not being white as well, not having paid and not saying she was a judge’s daughter.

  Where is she?

  Hilary drew a short breath. Since Carlton Street was empty I brought her here, obviously. Well, she threw the most amazing scene. Hilary is making a show of speaking very evenly and sensibly, he saw, as if to emphasise that my anger is childish. And of course Max was practising here, he said.

  Hilary looked up. As a matter of fact, he was. She frowned. He was having some trouble with his mother’s piano, no, I think she had guests or something, and of course it was the day of the concert. That evening. I told him he could use the Steinway since it had just been tuned. Anyway, Sarah threw this quite incredible fit, said she would never never live here in this house and ran off. What do you mean, ran off? She walked out. But walked out where? Where did she go? I followed her in the car. With Max too. He was so kind, poor boy. He didn’t know what to say. She said she was going to her Community. I gave her the keys to Carlton Street just in case and fifty pounds.

  But she was ill, this thing she’s swallowed.

  When I asked her about that, she just looked sheepish, like they used to when you caught them fibbing. You know? She wouldn’t talk about it. She’s never mentioned it to me herself, I only get the story from others. She knows I’m not so gullible. Of course, I offered to take her to the hospital, to a doctor. She wouldn’t answer, and she wouldn’t get in the car. She said she would never get in a car with me again, and so on. Poor Max did his best too. She spat at him.

  Daniel smiled. Spat?

  Yes, in his face.

  And then?

  I waited a couple of hours, then phoned the Community. I thought it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she stayed there a while. I know the vicar at St Mark’s has dealings with them. Christine says she knows someone whose daughter’s there. You know Christine goes to church. It took ages to find the number. Then she wasn’t there. I finally got her at Carlton Street. She said she was going to stay there on her own and hung up.

  And you didn’t go and get her? he asked. Dan, she’s 18, she’s an adult! She’s not an adult, he shouted. She’s a mess! Why did she come back from Italy, why didn’t she wait for the flight? It was only a few days off. Hilary repeated: As I said, she wouldn’t tell me. She went completely hysterical when I brought her here instead of Carlton Street. Hilary sighed. She found her husband’s one seeing eye. Dan, I don’t think you can begin to imagine what she was like.

  I’m going to get her, Daniel said. He got to his feet. The blood rushed to his head.

  That’s what she wants, Hilary said.

  Well then let’s do it! Let’s do what she wants. Why shouldn’t we? We can’t leave her in an empty flat.

  The old fridge is still there. And there are chairs and things.

  That’s not the point.

  I told her she’d have to be out of there by Monday because we’re supposed to exchange contracts at which point Christine is eager to have possession. And then we’ve got to exchange contracts because if not we can hardly expect the rest of the cash.

  You’ll have to drive me there. Daniel was swaying on his feet. Hilary sat still. She was curved forward on the armchair, her hands pressed tight together, eyes half closed. Her body swayed slightly back and forward. I told her you were away till next week, she said. You’re not well, Dan.

  You didn’t even say I was in hospital?

  No.

  But why on earth not? Somebody else will tell her. Hilary! Hilary! he sat down again. He must try to be understanding. I don’t know who’s crazier, you or her.

  She’s hostile, Hilary said abruptly. She looked up now from joined hands. Can’t you see that? She’s determined to be a spoke in our wheels.

  I can
’t believe I’m hearing this, Daniel said. So you didn’t tell her I was in hospital? Hilary started to speak, but he wouldn’t listen. This is too much, he announced. Uncertainly, he started for the door. There was still a curious novelty about every move he made, his one eye guiding him across the now dark room. Embers from the fire made the space cavernous. She wants to break us up, Hilary said. Daniel was furious. How ridiculous, he said. He rounded on her. It gave him strength. You’re mad. You should see a psychiatrist. Something must have happened to her that we don’t know about. Like what? Hilary demanded. Come on, tell me what! She stopped. Dan, this whole thing’s changed you. You’re not thinking straight. Let’s talk about it for a bit, ten minutes won’t make much difference, will it, then I’ll take you over there if you want.

  He had steadied himself against the door. Our daughter is having some kind of major crisis, he told her, this is the age when teenagers have crises, and you planned to sit there playing the piano. My husband, she retorted, has just come out of hospital after a violent assault, coma and all kinds of surgery. I was eager to protect him from a spoilt kid who’s always played her father’s generosity and general guilt in her regard for all it’s worth. I’ll get the policeman to take me, Daniel announced. He went through the porch. It stinks of fresh paint, he thought. Now he was out on the garden path.

  Daniel! He had reached the gate. He didn’t turn. Obscurely, he sensed that this anger towards his wife would be useful somehow. Dan, she cried, this is stupid! You’re not well. He would go straight to Mattheson perhaps, as Martin had advised. Who cares if Hilary finds out?