‘I’d have to have some time to think.’
‘What about? Just imagine the sort of salary it’ll bring, and the lifestyle!’
‘It’s the five-year contract, really, and leaving London.’
‘A mere hop from terminus to terminus. Not even the time to read a quick book. I honestly wouldn’t leave it longer than a week. It’s a vast organisation, Suzie—you make a success of this title so dear to the old boy’s heart, and who knows where it’ll lead? It was one of his first, you know. His first wife was very involved and he’s just as obsessed with her memory as he ever was. It would be one helluva springboard…’
Suzie laughs. And it’s good, so good to shed some of the strain. ‘Well, if you say so.’
‘One phone call, Suzie, that’s all I need to make to get the ball rolling,’ says Kitty.
‘Anyone would think there was something in this for you!’
‘Nothing more, I assure you, than the simple fact that I think you’d be good and that at the moment I consider your talents are being wasted.’
‘Tell Robin that.’
‘Darling, be honest, Monday to Friday, would he notice?’ Brittle hands, brittle face, brittle smile.
Suzie snorts disdainfully. ‘He notices if the papers and magazines are out of order, so I think he might notice the space in the bed.’ Yes, she’s sure he would notice that. Suzie isn’t quite so certain any more, Suzie’s not half so convinced, but Robin seems desperate to beget a child from their union, and how can she backtrack after so encouraging his early desires? How can she possibly, in the face of his unflagging passion?
And now this! This fateful, unexpected lunch with Kitty, a bolt from the blue. Perhaps it is fate stepping in (and fate has always smiled upon Suzie) in time to prevent some major catastrophe.
Because does Suzie really want a child? Were any of her reasons genuine ones, or were they to do with gaining possession? Bored, unchallenged, she paced around her perfect flat arranging the fall of her perfect drapes, placing her perfect arrangements of pansies. But what would she do without a baby? Time, she’d discovered, tends to pass slowly when you are efficient and quick, when you finish your work as effortlessly as she does. Sometimes she reads, she rings her friends… those few that are home in the day, but Robin has never been keen on her friends and she’s caught him eavesdropping on her conversations. She doesn’t really need to go out. She enjoys entertaining for Robin. She looks forward to the evenings he comes home early.
Since Christmas Suzie has been taking stock; she has had the time and the peace of mind to take stock. Just recently his children have been less of a problem, to Robin as well as to her. The old habits have been changing but the initiative hasn’t come from Robin’s end, it has, quite clearly, been coming from theirs.
‘But are you quite sure you’re all right, Vanessa?’ Robin asked, the last time they cancelled a Sunday. And he seemed quite satisfied with the reply. They were going to the zoo with some friends, ‘While it’s still open,’ Vanessa explained.
‘We could have taken them,’ said Robin, morosely.
‘Don’t take that attitude, Robin, for goodness sake. They’re getting involved with other people, and surely that’s far better for them than moping round here every weekend, causing scenes and getting upset. Encourage them, please!’
‘I just wish I’d known sooner, that’s all. I could have made other plans.’
They’d have the day to themselves now—a whole day without interruption. Suzie was pleased and couldn’t disguise it. She draped herself over the back of his chair. She circled his head in her arms. ‘You’re hurt!’ she said, gently mocking. ‘Don’t pretend. There’s no need to act, it’s only me. You’re hurt, go on, admit it. You were hurt the week before last as well. You are always hurt when they ring up and cancel.’
‘God, you annoy me sometimes!’ And he shot forward suddenly out of her reach.
‘Robin! Christ, for goodness sake!’
‘I’m so sorry, Suzie, I’m sorry. Perhaps you are right.’ He picked up the supplement and went off with it, but his apology did not reach his eyes or his smile.
The whole business was all rather perverse, odd enough to worry her, because the less she was bothered by Robin’s children the less her desire to replace them with her own, whereas Robin’s need for a child by Suzie seemed to increase for the very same reasons.
‘But you’re not losing them,’ she went off to find him and say. ‘Just because they are occupied happily you don’t have to feel threatened. Why do you act towards them in this manner?’
‘I don’t act towards them in any manner.’
‘Oh yes, you do.’
He wanted them to need him, that was his trouble, and Suzie saw that as rather sick. I mean, it’s nice to be needed and all that stuff, but couldn’t he see that that would make them vulnerable? How traumatic it would have been for Robin, had Caroline been a speckledy hen kind of mother, pushing him out like some women do. In some ways her failure as a mother had given Robin his biggest gift… the adoration and, as Suzie sees it, the crippling needs of his children. Well, there’d be none of this nonsense if Suzie got pregnant. With two balanced, caring parents Suzie’s child would grow up to be independent and strong. Like her.
Wasn’t it lunchtime yet? Christ, she could do with a drink.
Ten minutes later, when Suzie had only just cooled down, Robin put his head round the door and suggested, ‘Perhaps, as we’ve nothing organised, we ought to go and see Isobel.’
‘If you can’t come up with anything better than that, then why don’t you go back into your study. I’m quite happy pottering, Robin, perfectly happy to spend the day in the greenhouse.’
‘That greenhouse is becoming an obsession with you,’ said Robin, only half-joking.
‘It gives me something to talk about,’ she snapped before she could stop herself, and her voice buzzed like a stinging bee. ‘It means I can turn the conversation when I’m stuck with your boring, conceited friends.’ She softened when she saw how far his face fell. She hadn’t meant to say that. She liked most of his friends, it was just that, whenever they left, she’d started to feel inadequate just lately. Ridiculous. So silly. And not like Suzie at all. ‘You go and see your mother,’ she said, miserable, unwilling to endure the feeling of being presented yet again. ‘I’m quite happy to stay here.’
He didn’t bother to argue. They rarely actually argued. Robin tended to listen and then he faded away, to church, to work, to a book, to indifference. But on several occasions Suzie managed to make her position quite clear. When faced with his mother Robin withered like a small boy and his wives were of no more consequence than little friends he brought with him. Sometimes Suzie wondered if his single-minded ambition, his constant striving for success and yes, even his children, were nothing more than gifts to be offered at that bleak childhood shrine. Intelligent, shrewd as he was, couldn’t he see that whatever he achieved that woman, that zealot, would never be satisfied? They’d argued for hours, Robin glum, Suzie shouting, while she tried desperately to explain. ‘She’s never let you go, don’t you see? Why do you let her do this? Why do you allow her to play any role in your life at all? It’s all mixed up with religion and guilt, that’s quite obvious and the most extraordinary part is that you haven’t grown up hating women… all women… trying to destroy them in revenge. I’m quite surprised you’re not a batterer, Robin, a sick abuser of women, and yet you go on and on, allowing her to dominate you just as she did when you were small. She can’t have shown you any love…’
She said, ‘Why don’t you answer me?’
She said, ‘Why won’t you talk about this?’
She said, ‘Why won’t you face it? If you disagree with what I’m saying, why don’t you tell me why?’
But there was no point in arguing. Whatever went on between Robin and his mother was so deep-seated that nothing Suzie could say would make any difference.
‘I’ll get you a drink,’ he suggeste
d, and it was exactly the right thing to say just then. It was precisely what Suzie needed in order to calm herself down. Damn it, was her hand shaking? No, surely not.
‘Is everything all right, Suzie? You seem to be only half-here. Everything’s going well, isn’t it, with you and Robin? You haven’t had some silly kind of quarrel? Have another drink.’
Suzie pulls herself abruptly together and tries to stare truthfully into Kitty Beavers-St Clair’s fishing eyes. This woman, this scandalmonger and gossip-swapper doesn’t need anything more firm than a feeling in order to sell her thoughts to the world.
With her sharp little nose, with her piercing eyes, has she sensed there is something wrong? ‘Is that why she really asked me here,’ thinks Suzie, ‘nothing to do with the job but to poke and pry into our marriage?’ But there is nothing wrong—Suzie doesn’t need to be so defensive and anyway, the state of Robin’s marriage is not important; no small scandal could possibly damage his career. With carefully cultivated friends in high places, it would have to be something like sexual deviation, cruelty, fraud… and he’s squeaky clean, there’s never been anything like that. What a disappointment he must be to people like Kitty.
Publicly, Caroline’s performance was the worst thing that ever happened to Robin and that time the columnists came down firmly on his side. Well, there was no doubt that the woman was mad. Nobody liked drunken, embarrassing, angry Caroline.
Suzie’s voice is softly reassuring. ‘We are both very happy, Kitty, and it’s time Robin found a little peace and happiness in his life.’
‘What a ghastly business that was.’ What a sweet smile.
‘Yes, it was, but all over now.’
‘Do you hear from her still? Are you pestered? I know it was all pretty nasty for a while.’
‘Not really, but Robin is still very close to his children.’
‘Oh yes, I remember. They’re with her, aren’t they? And at the time everyone expected Robin to take them, responsible half and all that. And what about you, Suzie? Not ready for motherhood yet, I presume? I must say it’s hard to picture you dandling children at your knee.’
Oh? Suzie can’t help but feel hurt. ‘We have never seriously discussed it.’
‘So that wouldn’t prevent you going for the appointment?’
‘That would not be an obstacle. No.’ Suzie sits back and sips more wine and her hopes fizz like the bubbles inside her. ‘The more I think about this marvellous chance the more I’m convinced I should take it.’
Kitty smiles back. ‘I’m so glad. I’d be astonished if you didn’t. And surely Robin would be thrilled on your behalf once he got used to the idea. No man really wants to live with a cabbage.’
A cabbage? Was that how people saw her now? As a cabbage? Was that what they were saying behind her back? ‘You needn’t have bothered to do this for me, Kitty. You know, of course, that I’m grateful.’
The silvery laugh frosts the glass and the tip of her tongue dips the wine like a cocktail cherry. ‘You haven’t got it yet, darling. And it’s always nice to see you. The information fell into my lap, I certainly went to no trouble.’
‘No, no, let me pay. My treat. You must come to dinner, soon. I’ll invite some amusing people. Bring Aiden with you.’
This will be difficult. Robin can’t stand either Kitty or her lover.
‘That would be nice. Thank you, Suzie. I haven’t seen poor, dear Robin for absolute ages.’
Twenty-seven
MOTHERTIME—CHRISTMASTIME—SPRINGTIME—AND an Eastertime when yellow islands of daffodils spangle against the undergrowth and the unbroken blue of the Somerset sky stretches to the breathless place where the fresh sun blazes. And do iridescent dragonflies still hover over the crystal stream?
It is a day to fire the most miserable soul with those bursts of exhilaration and delicious well-being. In London the privets are golden and the lilacs are heavy with blossom. The cherry tree in Suzie Townsend’s mews garden is dusted with pink and white, and when she left the city this morning the sweet, fresh fragrance of spring was resting on the air.
She passes through the gate of her childhood home and it creaks a protest at her entry—cross to be so long abandoned? She moves slowly, but it’s not that her bag is heavy. She hasn’t been here for a long weekend since she first met Robin… this is the first time she’s been away from him, the first time she’s felt the need for somebody other than him. From some hazy childhood habit she pauses to straighten her hair and brush her skirt, as if she’s been playing in the garden. As if her mother is going to send her upstairs to tidy up. She walks up the path and opens the door.
In the hall she passes the row of wooden pegs, still cluttered with warped tennis rackets and old straw hats. Eileen is in the kitchen washing up her few breakfast things, and why does the fact that she’s still in her dressing-gown disturb poor Suzie so? Perhaps it’s because that comfortable, well-worn garment is none too clean and a marmalade cat sits purring, preening itself on a draining board that ought to be sterile. Blue and white bowls of yellowing milk are set on the questionably clean kitchen floor, milk with skin on. But the window is open and the warm scents of April are bowling through from the garden, a wild smell to stir and freshen the senses.
Two months have gone by since she broke the brilliant news to Robin—the news they’d been waiting for—the fact that she, at last, after all their efforts, is pregnant. And of course pregnancy goes well with Easter and frisky things… with cuddly white rabbits and lambs and ribbons and eggs.
Eileen twists at the sink to look round at her daughter. ‘Suzie, darling! You’re so terribly pale! You don’t look like you ought to look. I’d imagined you blossoming…’ and then, as if suddenly aware that this overprotective role is not hers by right any more, she falters, peels off her red rubber gloves and asks, ‘Suzie, what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing, Mummy, nothing. I just felt like a rest, that’s all.’
‘And why on earth not. You work so hard, that’s no wonder.’
So they sit and they talk round a pot of tea, Suzie, settling into the chair, settling into the familiar house, telling Eileen all about the prestigious new job she’s been offered, editing the specialist European magazine The Garden with a readership, all over the continent as well as the USA, of millions. They discuss how she managed to get the job—she never believed she’d actually be offered it, and they debate what ought to happen next, and how pleased all her friends have been.
‘It means I would have to work from Brussels—that’s where the company have their headquarters.’
‘Do you want some food?’ asks Eileen. ‘Shall I get you something to eat?’
‘No, I only want to talk and relax. The traffic out of London was dreadful.’ And her eyes stray to the open window, to the wild, hidden garden where happiness has always lain. She won’t be able to come here soon. The house is on the market and Suzie hopes it won’t sell.
‘And Robin,’ ventures Eileen. ‘What’s Robin doing this weekend?’
‘Oh, Robin is fine. He is working.’ Suzie nods, again and again, as she smooths her skirt with her neat little hand.
‘And Caroline? And the children?’
‘Caroline is amazingly happy. Her last stay at Broadlands did the trick. She’s not drinking. She’s got a new job—in some art gallery in Knightsbridge, apparently, but nobody quite knows which one and Robin doesn’t like to pursue it. He’s just so relieved that she’s happy at last and out of his hair. They’re working her terribly hard… she goes out early in the morning and comes back, sometimes, at all hours. Mrs Guerney says she hasn’t seen her for months and neither has Robin, but everything’s very calm and the children are fine.’ Suzie has to keep talking. If she stops the tears that are threatening might fill her eyes. What was her mother’s secret? She and Daddy were always so close! ‘We don’t see them quite so much but they are more accepting of me now. Ilse’s most reliable, she’s there all the time, of course. And as far as we know there’ve
been no new men in Caroline’s life. No, it’s incredible, she really seems to have found peace at last.’
‘And what about the baby? How did she accept that piece of news?’
‘She was very sweet! She sent us a congratulations card!’
‘What a turn about!’
‘I know. It’s wonderful, really, isn’t it?’
But Suzie’s news is given automatically. She doesn’t even listen to what she is saying. Her brain is working these days, always working. Round and round the question that should not have posed itself at all, the question she never remotely imagined would raise its ugly head, not with her. Not with Robin. Not in this day and age.
He was over the moon about the child and Suzie laughed and accepted his concern. She felt rather special when he cancelled their skiing holiday because he said, ‘It’s the first three months which are the most dangerous and you’re not the most dependable person on the slopes.’ So although she’d been looking forward to getting away from a chilly, miserable, dark-grey London, she lit her false-flame fire, she sat beside it surrounded by cushions, feeling cosseted and cared for. When Suzie talked about the job Robin was a bit grudging. She sent off her CV, she had lunch with various useful contacts. When she went for her first interview he took her to the airport, fussing like a mother hen. ‘I don’t know if you ought to be flying at all.’
Suzie’s irritation gathered force and erupted. She grabbed her bag from his helpful hand and she snapped, ‘For goodness sake, don’t be so silly! What’s happening to me is perfectly normal and you of all people ought to know that. After all, you’ve been a father five times!’
Sitting in the cafeteria waiting to be called, Suzie on tomato juice because that’s the first thing Robin did, to forbid alcoholic drinks, and Suzie, flattered by his sweet concern, was humouring him, he said, ‘I think I’m only reacting to Caroline’s irresponsible behaviour. I’m sorry, Suzie, but you’ll just have to bear with me.’
‘But Robin, there was never anything wrong with Caroline’s babies.’
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