He watched her drink and then nodded at the littered desk. ‘What will you do with all this paperwork?’
‘Burn it, in the way I was taught. I’m joking, David, there’s no need to make that face. No, Ivan will deal with it.’ She ran her hands through her hair. ‘Mother of mine, I suppose I expected nothing less.’
‘And what will you do with this place?’ David asked, looking round him in wonder, running his fingertips over his jaw.
‘I’m going to sell it, of course. And I don’t’ – she held up a hand – ‘need you to speak.’
David frowned. ‘You might not need me to speak, Diana, but I will.’
She flashed him a warning look, but said nothing.
‘I think you should wait. You’re clearly . . . upset. And you might feel differently about it after some time has passed.’
‘You’d stay here?’ she asked, disbelieving.
‘Perhaps.’
‘I thought you said that we “had to be in London”. That it was “non-negotiable”.’
‘I do need to be in London – don’t get me wrong, Diana. And I probably am being overly romantic. It just seems rash to give up something so beautiful. All your mother’s work. The roof.’
‘Please don’t even mention that fucking roof.’
‘I’m concerned you’re acting out of some kind of—’
‘Some kind of what?’ Diana said, throwing herself into her chair in exasperation.
‘Grief . . . Rage . . . I don’t know.’
‘When my mother followed her instincts, everyone applauded. When I do the same, everyone seems to gather in thin-lipped horror.’
‘But this is a decision made in death, Diana. It’s not life-affirming. It’s not a yes.’
‘I don’t ever want to hear that silly phrase again. This is a yes to me. Whether the shadow is thrown by a castle or a person, I don’t want to stand in it. I’m shedding all ballast. You’re welcome to stay here and play with the ghosts, but I’m moving on.’
He nodded, almost imperceptibly.
‘David, the life I have created for myself is one that I find beautiful. My ideas, while perhaps less grand than my mother’s, are just as interesting to me as this chaotic . . . schema. My mother’s desire for transcendence will not be at the expense of those left in the material realm. In fact,’ her voice rose, ‘like all the others, what you’re doing is admiring the fucking flowers while I’m buried six feet underneath a load of someone else’s bullshit. My mother has gone, so forgive me if I want to breathe again!’
David was silent.
Diana raked her hands through her hair. ‘Besides,’ she said quietly, ‘I couldn’t afford to keep it, even if I wanted to. Have you any idea how much money my mother spent on this place? She must have been at her pipe when she was doing the figures. And all the provisions she left for its upkeep have gone with her beloved Roberto.’
‘But you have some of your own money, don’t you?’ David said, frowning.
‘I have enough to get by, but it’s no great shakes. Ice to make a few cocktails from what was a glacier.’ She sighed and pushed the papers away from her. ‘I’m tired of fighting.’ She looked at her nails.
‘But, Diana, you always fight.’
‘Yes, I like a good scrap,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But my mother chose to trust Roberto with what was left of her money. The law is clear on that. And it was his money anyway.’
David looked at her quizzically.
‘Harry’s. He didn’t leave me anything when he died. Not so much as a note. Though he did bestow a small fortune on a street-boy named Bokhara from Tangiers. The Morgan Bank had quite a time trying to track him down. I think they might still be at it.’
‘That must have been very painful. I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sweet to say sorry.’ She looked at him and smiled. ‘You know, David, I’m not sure what happened this morning, but as those lawyers were speaking it felt as though something that has been gnawing at my insides just died. I thought I’d feel rage, spitting rage when this happened. So all right, I’ve been yelling at the staff and hustling people about, but that’s nothing really. Just getting the blood flowing. And I know I should rail at the clouds and write hundreds of letters, but right now all I want is to leave this place and never see it again.’ There was a knock and they both turned. A young woman stood in the doorway, staring levelly at them both.
‘Elena, my God, you’re here.’
David stood still, as though he had unexpectedly seen a lone deer in a clearing. Unseen, his hand moved, tracing the curve of her neck.
‘You haven’t put on any weight,’ Diana said, without going forward to meet her.
‘I’m well, Diana, thank you. How are you?’ The girl crossed her arms, and glanced at David.
‘Leonie hasn’t come?’
The girl shook her head. ‘She’s in California now.’
‘You’ve been speaking?’
Elena shook her head again. ‘Inés told me.’ Her chest was rising and falling quickly. ‘Where shall we sleep?’
‘And who is “we”?’
‘James and I.’
‘Wherever you like. It’s like the fall of Rome around here, so make your bed where you can.’
‘We want somewhere quiet.’
‘So you can make lots of noise?’ Diana said slyly.
The girl stared at the floor. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said quietly.
Diana laughed and then glanced at David, who was gazing out of the window, a faint muscle moving in his cheek.
‘Elena, you haven’t met David.’ He turned, holding Diana’s eyes in reproach, and then went forward to shake the girl’s hand.
She took his gently, and her hand was cool in his grip. ‘It’s nice to meet you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to go and have a bath then. If there’s nothing you need help with here?’ She looked at all the papers on the desk.
‘No.’ Diana turned her hands in two elegant circles. ‘It’s all taken care of. See you at dinner.’
Elena nodded and, without looking at David, left.
Diana and David were silent for a moment after she’d gone.
She cut him a glance. ‘Are you still going to stay for dinner?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then tomorrow you’re going to London.’
‘As we agreed.’
She nodded.
‘Will you be all right here?’ He took her wrist and pulled her towards him.
‘Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. The sturdy Boston cousins are on their way to help too.’ She tried to raise a smile. ‘Relieved, I suppose, to end this saga. The tearaway can tear no more. Not that they’ll get me back to the country club.’ She smiled. ‘My flight’s booked for Saturday. We’ll be free before we know it.’ She turned to face him; aware of the glare of the bright desk lamp, she moved slightly to the side so that the light was behind her.
‘I want to be with you, Diana.’ David caught her face in his hands. ‘I want to marry you.’
She looked him in the eye, her heart beating quickly.
But she knew not to ask a serious question without first being sure of the answer.
Lying in the big marble tub in the shadowy bathroom that adjoined her room, Elena listened. James was next door, lying on their bed staring up at a vaulted ceiling that might as well have been stars. She could tell the effect of this place on him and was glad they would not be staying long. It would be hard for him to go back to their little flat with the damp on the ceiling and the cramped galley kitchen. She closed her eyes and pictured their bed with its Indian cover and the mismatched lamps on each side; the small sitting room with the framed posters on the walls and the knotted rug they’d bought together in Nepal. The room seemed perfect to her until she came to the dark wooden chair taking up too much space in the corner.
It was a gift from her father and Elena had allowed it to become covered in books and coats so that only its legs remained visible. He had brought it himself a mo
nth ago, unstrapping it from the roof of his Mercedes as she watched, standing on the pavement in her bare feet.
‘Well, you never bloody ring any more, Elena. And you haven’t been answering my letters or calls since your mother and I finalised the divorce.’ He pushed past her holding the chair, his still strong frame in the unexpected ease of jeans and a soft cotton shirt. ‘So the mountain has come to Muhammad.’
She had taken him for lunch at the little Italian café that she and James ate in most days. She knew the elderly couple who ran it and that there would be people around. James had wanted to come, but Elena had refused and, kissing him on the cheek, walked out of the flat alone to where her father was waiting.
Inside the steamy café, her father was fascinated by the busy crowd of labourers and pensioners sipping bowls of minestrone. She’d ordered simple plates of pasta for them both. ‘Wipe-clean menus,’ he said, turning over the curling plastic in his hands. ‘Both useful and vile, rather like your new stepmother.’
Elena had concentrated on working the spaghetti round her fork and pretended not to hear.
Her father had eaten his food with enthusiasm and on finishing ordered coffee from the elderly owner with a small tilt of his hand, then sat back and lit a cigarette, pushing the packet towards her. She only ever smoked with him, and as she leaned forward to take one without wanting it, she caught the faint smell of lemons.
‘I used to come to a café like this when I was training as an engineer. Run by an old cockney. The food was appalling.’
She said nothing, trying not to grimace at the taste of the cigarette.
‘I bet the men here can’t believe their luck, having you walk in.’
She pressed the cigarette into the ashtray until she was sure it was completely out.
‘I want to give you and James a gift.’ He squinted at her through the smoke. ‘You know I’m having to sell the London house to finally be rid of your mother.’
She stared at him, dreading whatever this new offer would be.
‘I’m moving back to Yorkshire, and Anita and I would very much like to give you the huntsman’s cottage. It’s not too close to the main house, so you can have your privacy.’ He watched her face, but she did not move. ‘You used to like it when you were a child, and perhaps you’ll have some of your own one day.’ He flicked his eyes in the direction of her stomach and as it churned Elena was glad that she’d left most of her food. ‘I admire your vow of poverty, but one day you may well find you want to get out of this dump and get some fresh air.’
Elena stared at the table. She could picture the great stone house set in the middle of the deer-strewn park. The network of rooms and corridors, separated by hidden doors set into the walls. Her father’s housekeeper walking grimly around the bottom floor of the big house, hitting a gong for mealtimes. Her father striding along the corridors with some dead thing in his arms to give to the cook. She remembered the hostile cold of the dining room in which her grandparents sat at either end of a long table communicating to one another through their servants. The piles of lewd magazines in the loos that felt like being locked inside her father’s head.
‘No.’ She looked up at her father.
He put his head back and raised his eyebrows, like a driver meeting an unexpected animal in the road.
‘No?’
‘I don’t want . . . to be rude, but no.’
Elena turned over in the bath, her cheeks burning at the memory. Had she really said that? She sat up and pulled open the window above the bath so that the night air rushed in, cooling her body. The dark blue of the sky was pricked with stars.
She could smell jasmine.
‘We’ll eat in here, it’s too gloomy in that vast empty hall.’ Diana ushered James into one of the smaller ante-rooms where a candlelit table had been set for four.
‘What about all the other guests?’ Elena asked, following them in, David behind her. She had tied up her long hair and wore a white cotton dress that hung simply to her ankles. Her sharp shoulder blades moved beneath her skin as she walked, so that it looked, David thought, as though her wings had been cut away with two quick flicks of a blade.
‘They can all fend for themselves this evening,’ continued Diana. ‘I want to have an intimate family meal.’ She smiled victoriously at them all. ‘Now,’ she gently guided James towards a chair, ‘I want you by me. We’re having porcini risotto and then wild boar, shot a few weeks ago by my friend Giancarlo. It should be perfect.’
As they sat down, David turned towards Elena. ‘Your mother’s ability to hang meat rivals any butcher I’ve known. It’s quite an alarming art.’
But Elena was looking up at the frescoes on the ceiling above them and seemed not to hear. James looked at her expectantly for a moment, an open expression on his handsome face, but when she still did not notice he reached across and gently touched her hand, bringing her attention back down to the table.
‘What?’ She looked at her mother.
‘David was talking to you,’ Diana said, looking between them both.
‘I’m sorry, David, what did you say?’ As she asked, James and Diana began to busy themselves with the pouring of wine, chattering brightly.
David smiled at Elena and shook his head. ‘My comment wasn’t important.’ His eyes were kind and Elena turned herself slightly towards him.
‘My mother tells me that you’re an artist.’
‘Yes.’ He smiled, and Elena liked the way he seemed able to laugh at himself.
‘Struggling?’ she asked.
‘Depends on the day. And the time of the month.’
Elena looked at him quizzically.
‘I’ve always had a woman in my life and the moon affects us all.’
‘And now you have her.’ Elena nodded across the table to where Diana was telling a story to a laughing James.
David watched her across the table. ‘A woman indeed. Unlike any other.’
‘Have you got what it takes?’ Elena asked.
‘Well, what I’ve got she certainly takes,’ David laughed. ‘No, that’s not fair. We take it out of each other.’
‘I was just telling James about the disastrous journey I took around the Channel Islands when I sailed there to visit my lawyer,’ Diana said loudly. ‘The wind was ferocious and everyone was sick as dogs, apart from me up on deck in the rain eating cod’s roe.’ She smiled at David, who knew the story. ‘They are the strangest little islands. Pretty, but rather chilly.’
‘Weren’t they occupied in the war?’ James said.
‘Yes, and one, Alderney – I think the most attractive – was entirely fortified. The whole place is dotted with brutalist forts and an entire network of underground tunnels. It’s most unusual.’
‘The beaches there are meant to be beautiful,’ James said.
‘Yes, they are rather fine. Very peaceful. I was sitting in a pub one evening with all the salty sailors and one told me that when they returned to the island after the war, the lobsters they caught off the north end were the biggest they’d ever known them to be.’
The table looked blank.
‘Well, that was where they dropped the bodies.’
Elena put down her fork.
‘But do tell us about the state of your affairs, James.’ Diana’s tone became light. ‘You had grand plans when I last saw you in Ibiza.’
He sat forward to take the glass she’d just filled. ‘My grand plans have been chucked out the window. Somehow or other I’ve had my attention diverted.’ He smiled at Elena. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to work on anything with undivided attention again.’
‘Let’s see how long that lasts.’ She gave an acid smile in return. ‘But you’ll have to do something for money, James. Elena’s hardly going to be able to support you both by writing esoteric texts about the tradition of silence.’
Elena looked at Diana in surprise. She always sent copies of her work to her mother, but never imagined that she actually read them.
&nbs
p; ‘Actually, Elena and I have a plan. Perhaps just a dream.’
David raised his eyebrows. ‘And what is that? I always keep an ear out for other people’s plans. Some are very useful.’
‘Well, you’re welcome to this one, David,’ James laughed. ‘Though I would imagine you’re kept pretty busy.’
‘Day and night!’ Diana laughed, and David noted the way Elena winced as she drank her water. She had not drunk any of her wine.
‘So what is the big plan?’ Diana said with a raised eyebrow.
‘Well, my cousin died recently and left me some money,’ James said. ‘So . . . I’ve decided to start a bookshop. I love books, always have, and got a spectacularly bad English degree to prove it.’
‘A shop?’ Diana asked, looking at Elena. ‘Elena, darling . . . really? I can’t see you behind a till.’
‘Why not?’ Elena looked seriously at her mother.
‘Because you’re not a shop girl. You’re . . .’
‘What am I?’
‘Well, you’re my daughter for a start.’
‘What kind of books?’ David asked, with a nod at James.
‘Rare books, particularly fine first editions. With a focus on the inter-war period.’
Diana looked uncomfortable. ‘And where will you get these books?’
‘I’ve been collecting for a while now. I have to say, when Elena told me about Black Sun I was terribly excited. What a story. Though I was hardly surprised. I knew there must have been something extraordinary behind such a woman.’
‘I disagree with you about that, James,’ Elena said quietly. ‘I think experience has more power over our lives than our blood.’
‘I’m not sure.’ James took a mouthful of the risotto. ‘I think the majority is written within. My God, this is good.’
‘It takes a happy man to say so,’ David said to James. ‘Most people need the hope of changeability.’
‘My mother always said that we can give birth to ourselves,’ Diana said, shaking her hair back. ‘And I think she was quite right.’
‘Of course.’ James spread his hands wide. ‘I don’t deny the ability to change. Elena and I are working hard to change certain things.’
The Heart Is a Burial Ground Page 24