by Dirk Bogarde
‘I know, and I am apologizing.’
‘Ten, twelve, years too late.’
‘Not too late. Just in time. Perhaps.’
‘Well. The sooner we start on the alterations the better.’ She cut a wedge of Pont L’Évêque, reached for the basket of sliced baguette, spread a piece with a lot of butter. Dottie, I vaguely thought, would not have approved at all, but the sharpness of Helen’s voice banished reverie. ‘And you had better start on your halo-polishing now. Get your backside on to a seat and start battering away at your “best friend”, Mr Typewriter. You’re going to have to dig deep into your pocket to pay for some more school fees, for your “refound” son, Giles.’ She bit into the bread as if it had been my throat.
‘Will I indeed? What have you in mind? Eton, Harrow, Gordonstoun?’
‘Deadly witty! I don’t remember you putting him down for any of those at his conception.’
‘No. Agreed. I did not.’
‘God knows you planned everything else for that event. You even got yourself pissed. Desperation time in the double bed. Talk about donated sperm! God!’
‘Giles was a final effort to get us back together. Remember? Deliberate.’
‘The “bicycle patch”, you said. Your deathless prose, not mine, and then when he arrived hardly a glance in his direction for sodding years. You do make me so bloody angry sometimes.’ She took a large gulp of white wine, her eyes wide with rage. She looked very fine; and was furious when I said so.
‘What, then, have you in mind. Harrow, and so on, apart?’
‘Eason Lodge. It’s terribly good, expensive, but worth it. The Cornwalls sent Hector and Bobby there. They were very pleased.’
‘Bully for the Cornwalls. Does anyone know? I mean does the school know? Does Giles know?’
‘Not yet, and yes, the school does know. Dr Lang is extremely pleasant, so is his wife. He wants to see the child, obviously, as soon as possible, but I got all his reports and so on from St David’s, and he was quite impressed. He also spoke with Mr Loder at St David’s, who was very reassuring. Anyway, Giles has a place, all being equal, and he could start in the autumn term. September. That’ll give us time.’
‘Where is this school? Would I know?’ I poured myself a brimming glass of Sauvignon. There wasn’t very much else to do at the table. I wasn’t hungry and I had to sit there listening to this tarradiddle from Helen. Until I was ready.
‘I don’t know if you know it. It’s near Burnham Beeches, so it’ll be very useful for weekends. He will board only during the week, and Annie is already over at Chalfont, so that’s a huge help. Easy to get to for, you know, speech days, sports days, the school plays, carol-singing … that sort of thing.’
‘Wonderfully easy. And everyone will be at Burnham Beeches together then? I mean you and, whatsisname, Eric Thingummy, Giles and Annie.’
She did not flinch, just said quietly, ‘His name is Eric and hers is Annicka. Yes, we’ll all be together. They each have a lovely room up on the top, views over the woods and fields, lovely. And a bathroom each, huge luxury! You must admit it’ll be an improvement for them? Country air, all that stuff. Super.’ She took another, less violent, bite out of the baguette. ‘I have been very good and sent all my really personal things, clothes, books, my typewriter, processor, most of the children’s things, down to Mummy’s. She’s got loads of space for storage. It makes it easier when we get to the packing-up stage. I’ve tentatively, only tentatively, put the house with Andrews and Fry. They’re reliable, safe. It really rather depends on just when you’ll manage to get back. Now that you’ve cleared everything up here.’
‘As soon as possible. I suppose. One or two things here to set straight and then I’ll get back. You really have been busy. Haven’t wasted a moment, have you?’
‘Well, it seemed the sensible thing to do, and especially now you’ve decided to move here. I’m a very good planner, as you know.’
‘I do indeed.’
‘Eric thinks so too, which is vastly encouraging. He feels that I have this tremendous flair for organization. That’s what he needs, someone to organize things in the company.’
‘Obviously that’s what he’s getting.’
‘Seems a waste not to use my potential, doesn’t it? I mean what else would I do? The children are pretty well grown up now, you and I have come to the parting of the ways, amicably, thank the Lord, and I really can’t see me spending the rest of my days in bloody Simla Road. I have grown to loathe it.’ She pushed her plate away. ‘Sorry, but I do, and there is no point now in trying to pretend otherwise.’ She got up and went over to the desk to press the button for room service. ‘Coffee? Some tea? A tisanne, or a brandy? Something?’
‘No, nothing, thank you. But there is something else …’
She was about to press the little button, stopped. Her hand frozen in space, index finger extended. ‘What else? What “something”?’
‘Well, you are right, we did agree it would all be amicable, the divorce, but I am not absolutely certain that it will be uncontested.’
She turned and looked at me, her hand fell to her side. ‘What on earth do you mean? We agreed. Ages ago … weeks ago. We both agreed!’
‘I know. But there is a small point to consider. You may not care to hear it, but Giles won’t be going back to London, and he won’t be going to Eason Lodge and he won’t set a bloody foot near Burnham Beeches. That’s all.’
She sat slowly in a Louis chair, hands in her lap. ‘Have you lost your mind? What on earth are you talking about? Giles must do as he’s bloody well told.’
‘He won’t be told to do anything. By you. And if you find that disagreeable and something you’d rather consider, then do. But he stays with me. He will not come back to you. That’s quite definite. Understood? So if you want to contest any little thing just say so now. Time is getting short. Right?’
For a moment she was white with anger, then she sat back in the chair, her hands on the arms, crossed her legs casually, swung a foot. ‘And who, may I ask, made this astounding decision?’
‘Giles, at the start. Then I did. After he explained why.’
‘What did he explain? I think you have taken leave of your senses. Try and be calm, William, and just explain to me what is going on. I’m rather slow, it seems.’
‘He was rather distressed by Eric Whatever’s pony-tail. To start with …’
‘His pony-tail! You are mad!’
‘The way it spread out. When he undid it. All over the pillow.’
She was still as granite, silent.
‘On my side of the bed. Understand?’
She put a hand to her mouth, looked away, biting the side of a finger.
‘He also found it very difficult to come to terms with other … little factors.’
Then she swung round. ‘What other little factors?’
‘A Mr McKenna? A Mr Price? I believe they are called “uncles”?’
She was visibly shaken, but managed, heroically, to sustain her cool and her dignity. ‘And you believe all this rubbish? Tittle-tattle from an over-sensitive child? He’s ten, for God’s sake – nine. Of course I have friends, everyone does in my business. Douggie McKenna, Ian Price are good chums.’
‘On my side of the bed too? And Eric?’
Suddenly she was flustered, waved a hand above her head. ‘The silly little idiot should never have barged in like that.’
‘Should he have knocked, perhaps? At his mother’s door. In his own house?’
‘It wasn’t locked.’ She started to flounder badly, clasped her hands on her thigh.
‘Neither, I gather, was the bathroom on occasion. Am I right?’
Then she collapsed into silent tears, hands to her face, head bowed, shoulders shaking. The traffic from the promenade thundered, so I wouldn’t have heard her anyway. I got up and pressed the button for room service and she fled to the privacy of the bedroom, slamming the door. Pattering Feet arrived, tut-tutted at the half-eaten meal,
started to fold the table. I ordered coffee and a bottle of Heine, and he wheeled it all away. I wandered to the windows, looked down at the sparkling sea, the racing cars, skimming windsurfers, a boy running with a kite and elderly women dragging little dogs on thin leashes. Someone rolled past on skates. I’d gone too far. I had not meant to use the bathroom business until I hit a really sticky patch. But I’d just snapped and let it rip. No use now pretending anything.
Pattering Feet brought in a tray with the Heine and two brandy balloons, set all down and bowed himself away, closing the door. The balloons had a large gold ‘N’ on their sides. I poured myself a stiff three inches in a whisky glass, tapped on the bedroom door, called her name quietly. She was wiping her nose roughly with a tissue, dabbed at the skin under her eyes. I offered her a large brandy, in a whisky glass too, which she took silently. Then she went and sat on the high-backed gilded settee. She chucked a couple of cushions on to the floor, lay back.
‘I didn’t just meet Eric at the Cornwalls’ for supper. Surprise, surprise. It wasn’t like that at all. I remet him years ago. About four anyway. Behind your back. There wasn’t a sudden pick-up. No one knew. The children. You. Least of all you. But it was very tidy, careful, it never harmed Giles or Annicka.’
‘Until now. And, anyway, I knew.’
For a moment she let fall the careful guard she had erected. ‘You knew? How, for God’s sake?’
‘Those little lunches you tripped off to when I was about, not when I was away in Rome or Boston, when I was just up in the attic working? I didn’t think that those little lunches with “Muriel” or “Maureen” at Fortnum’s or San Lorenzo were absolutely kosher. As far as I know they don’t use the same after-shave as Eric. Do they?’
‘How the hell do you know what after-shave Eric uses? How the hell-?’
‘It was always the same stink. After your “girls’ lunches”, and I was pretty certain they weren’t all into Monsieur Givenchy. Right? Anyway, you don’t have to tell me any more, we are only hurting each other needlessly. Let’s stop.’
She pushed a bracelet up her arm, fiddled with a cuff. ‘I don’t know what this bathroom thing was.’ Her voice had become quiet. ‘I only know I got really furious because Giles was so damned rude. Difficult. Eric didn’t want any kind of problems when he was’ – she cleared her throat – ‘in the house. He said he wouldn’t be responsible for any, well, trouble with the children. And if anything happened, a fall, something – or a bad cut – you see, Giles always locked himself in there, for ages. Refused to come out sometimes. Sulking. Silent. You can’t imagine how maddening he was. He was a real little sod. So if he ever decided to do something seriously idiotic, locked in there. Well …’ She took another pull at her drink. ‘So Eric removed the lock. Simple. No problem.’
‘No problem. Except for the boy.’
She shrugged indifferent shoulders. She was beaten and knew it, but her very vulnerability infuriated her. ‘I detest sneaks. I brought up my children bloody well, and being a sodding little sneak was never on their agendas.’
‘Giles didn’t sneak. He just dropped a few bits and pieces here and there, quite unaware really, didn’t even know he was doing so. Fragments which I picked up. There was no kind of conspiracy, Helen. Promise you. But when I told him this morning that we were going to have this meeting, to discuss a divorce, about which he already knew he said, because Annie had told him, he just blew a fuse. That’s all. And if at ten you keep a whole lot of intense anguish bottled up for long then, when the bottle busts, it bloody well does. Everywhere. The whole thing explodes. It did this morning.’
‘Anguish! Christ! He’s a selfish, sullen, rude little boy. He needs a tough school, a boarding school. Eric should have given him a bloody good hiding, I always stopped him, but he really asked for it sometimes.’
‘Over his knee? Good old fashioned thrashing with a slipper? Trousers down? That it?’
My anger was so obvious that she shifted about uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t say that. That’s Victorian nonsense.’
‘If you had allowed that to happen, Helen, I’d have had Eric Whatever’s and your guts for garters! I assure you.’
She got up, put her glass down and went over to the windows. Stood there, silhouetted against the brilliant light of the afternoon. ‘I love Eric. I want to be with him. I want to be Group Head of the company, and I won’t let anything come in the way.’ She had raised her voice and was speaking over her shoulder in order to beat the roar of traffic below. I got up and walked closer to her. ‘So just tell me what you want. I don’t want the divorce contested. I’m guilty, I admit it. What do I have to do?’
‘I keep the boy, you keep Annie. I’ll make financial arrangements for both of you, and that’s that. We’ll talk lawyers later.’
She leant against the window, tugging idly at the blowing curtain, not looking at me. ‘I’m his mother. I carried him, fed him.’
‘I’m his father. And I don’t honestly feel that you have been the best mother he could have had, but let’s not be forced to go into that. In a court. Let’s be grown up and sensible. It’s a fair division. You love Annie, don’t much like Giles. I do. Okay?’
‘You don’t know him. How tricky he is. You’ve only had him for a few weeks, for heaven’s sake. You don’t know what you’re in for. It’s totally idiotic. You can’t look after a ten-year-old child. You can hardly look after yourself.’
‘I can try, and I’m about to. I am perfectly well aware that I haven’t taken on a gerbil or a hamster. Now, here’s what we do. I’ll come back to London with Giles. I’ll tell him what we have arranged and you tell Annie. You can see him whenever you want to, no question of that. We’ll have a very sensible, easy relationship, all of us. And I can see Annie when I want. They can come and stay together here, why not? There must be no kind of acrimony or stress when we are packing up Simla Road. You can tell your mother whatever you like about us. But just try to remember that once, not so long ago, we did love each other very much. It just happened to wear off. With use. Wear and tear. All right? We must put an end to the hurt and deception. For all our sakes.’
I put a hand on her shoulder, turned her towards me, tilted her chin up very gently. ‘Now. No more. We have wounded each other quite enough. We both know what we each want, separately, so with the last part of our lives left to us, let’s make it work for each other. I only wish you well.’
She moved my hand away from her face. ‘You are asking a hell of a lot. Giving up my child. Christ!’
‘Worse than giving up Eric? Group Head or whatever you said? Worse than another chance at life? Come on, be sensible.’
‘Oh Lord, oh Lordy.’ It was a sigh. ‘But does Giles agree to all this? Does he know what you have so cleverly arranged?’
‘He knows only one thing: he wants to stay with me. He is determined on that. He has been offered the choice. I won. Got it?’
She looked at herself in the full-length mirrors on the double-doors to the corridor. ‘God! I look a fright. Six for dinner.’ She smoothed her skirt, turned left and right, hands on her hips, patted her stomach. ‘Is that all? Are you leaving now?’
I went to the desk, pulled out the little chair before it, handed her a pen. ‘Not quite yet. You write all this down for me. On Negresco letter paper. Just say what we have agreed today. Date it.’
She laughed mockingly, shook her head. ‘You really are lunatic. It won’t be legal! It couldn’t be legal.’
‘No, perhaps not. It is just a declaration of intent. I somehow don’t think you’ll want to break it.’
I indicated the chair, gave her the pen, put a large sheet of letter paper before her; and, with a shrug and a half-smile, she sat down and started to write. I looked at my watch. I just had time to be at the Theobalds’ by five.
Giles was sitting on a rock by the side of the track under the umbrella-bay trees. He was wearing a blue baseball cap and a yellow T-shirt with FRÉJUS ZOO in scarlet letters. I stopped beside him.
He got up and came slowly to the car.
‘You look exceedingly smart. Cap and T-shirt, eh?’
‘You’re late. Fifteen minutes late.’
‘Sorry. Were you worried? I promised faithfully, you know. I had to go shopping in Draguignan. For toothpaste and shirts. Remember?’
He clambered into the back of the car, leant over the seat beside me. ‘Did you see Mum? Was it all right?’
‘Saw her, yes. She sent all her love. She’s going back to London next week … in a couple of days anyway. And we’ll be going back then too.’
‘Going back? To London?’ There was unease in his voice. ‘Did you talk about things? About me?’
I told him that we had, that it was all settled, that he was going to stay with me, Annie with his mother, and we were all going to pack the house up together. There had been no problems, just that she was a bit sad if he didn’t want to stay with her, but she wanted him to be happy. I chuntered on in as soothing and generous a way as I could manage. He seemed to accept it all. There was no scream of delight, no baseball cap in the air. He just sat perfectly still, a plastic giraffe dangling from his hand over the seat.
‘Was she very sad? Mum. I mean, she’s all right. It’s just that …’ He let it fade, and so did I.
Ahead the Theobalds’ little house stood silent in the lateafternoon sun, the terrace in cool green shade. I parked under a giant olive, and looked over my shoulder at the yellow T-shirt.
‘All right now? No worries? I think Mum will get quite used to not having you around. She’s going to be very occupied with her job. With Rhys-Evans. I mean, you’d have been bunged off to boarding school anyway. She will have to be travelling a good deal. So in a way I think it has all worked out pretty well. Don’t you? She loves you very much, and really does want what is best for you, and I said that you and I thought that being here, living at Jericho with me, was best for you. At the moment. Right?’