The Birdcage

by Marcia Willett

  This last remark was quite enough to distract Teresa from any thoughts of Saul; Alison, as an in-comer, was poaching on old preserves and Teresa disliked her on principle.

  ‘I think it’s a splendid idea,’ she said warmly. ‘Piers has always had a dog about although Joker was very special, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Joker connected him with Sue and David,’ said Tilda rather sadly. ‘He was a kind of continuum when everything was falling apart and he helped Piers to get through some very dark times. When Joker died it was rather as if a whole era had come to an end. Poor old Piers was absolutely gutted. He wept buckets when he thought no-one was looking and I think that it enabled him to grieve for everything at once. Queer, isn’t it, that you feel you can weep and despair over an animal’s death when you can’t if it’s a person? Joker’s death released some of the pain for him. His bed’s still there.’

  ‘I always look for him when I drive in.’ Teresa blotted a tear or two of her own. ‘He used to lie out in the sunshine in the garth when he got old and couldn’t go about with Piers any longer. Poor old Piers really has had a rough ride one way and another. Sue was terrific fun but she was utterly exhausting, about half an hour of her company was quite enough, and, of course, his mother was such a difficult woman. Very possessive and tough as old boots.’

  ‘Did you get on with her?’ asked Tilda, her curiosity roused. ‘I can remember her a bit. She was here, in those days, of course, and Piers and Sue were in the cottage in Porlock. I came out with David a few times when he was small, to visit her and Felix, and I remember her as being fearfully distant and terribly critical. Felix was quite different.’

  ‘Oh, everyone adored Felix but Marina was a real cold fish,’ said Teresa. ‘Piers always gave the impression that he stood between them as a kind of mediator – awful for a child – and then Sue came along and simply took him out of it. She was like some Act of God, sweeping everything before her. There was a crusading spirit about her which was difficult to resist. Of course, Marina was awful to her. She was terribly jealous of all Piers’ girl-friends but Sue simply took no notice of her. I’m not certain that Piers ever knew quite what hit him.’

  ‘But wasn’t it extraordinary that she should just pack it all in and go off to the States like that?’ Tilda shook her head. ‘It was so . . . unexpected.’

  ‘It was typical of Sue. She was completely committed to whatever it was she was doing at the time. She started her little business when David went away to school, you know, and it was then that she realized that she had a real flair for business. It was typical that she managed to run her shop and still be such a dedicated wife and mother, but once David went into the army those wifely, maternal instincts simply seemed to have burned out. That scene came to its natural end and she turned her whole attention to building up her business and expanding it abroad. It was a very amicable separation.’

  ‘She was so good at being a mum, that’s what made it so odd,’ said Tilda. ‘She was so competent and kind and they were all so happy here at Michaelgarth. And then, finish!’

  ‘Does Piers miss her?’ asked Teresa curiously.

  Tilda wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think he does, not really. Or, at least, only as you miss something you’ve got used to and rather liked. He’s certainly not heart-broken.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ agreed Teresa. ‘I think that Sue was a kind of bridge for him, away from Marina’s clutches, and that in an odd kind of way the break was right for him too. I agree, he’s never seemed heart-broken or angry, just happy to move on. Although I understand that Alison is trying to worm her way in.’

  ‘Oh, don’t,’ said Tilda involuntarily. ‘She’s a nice person, actually, but she’s just not right for Piers.’

  ‘What does he see in her?’

  ‘Well, she lost her husband at about the time that David died and I think he feels sorry for her and now he’s got himself a bit stuck.’

  ‘That’s just so like Piers,’ sighed Teresa. ‘Marina got him into the mind-set of feeling guilty if he doesn’t please women at all costs and he’s still in the habit of it. He’ll simply have to unstick himself. I think a puppy is an excellent start.’

  ‘I know Piers is thinking about getting one but it’s as if he can’t quite bring himself to do it yet. You don’t think it’s too soon after Joker?’

  ‘No, I don’t, but I think it might be difficult for Piers to actually do it for himself. He needs to be bounced into it.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  They looked at each other, smiling in complete accord.

  ‘Jake’s gone to sleep,’ said Tilda. ‘Put him in his chair and he’ll sleep for an hour at least, and I’ll show you the clothes that Sue has sent for him from the States. I have to say that she’s got style. They’re really cool.’

  The telephone bell startled them: Teresa instinctively cradled the sleeping baby so that he shouldn’t be woken whilst Tilda snatched up the receiver.

  ‘Hello? Oh, hello, Piers . . . OK, that’s fine . . . Ma’s here with me, actually . . . Yes, I’ll tell her. Love to Felix. See you.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Teresa put Jake gently into his chair. ‘It didn’t wake him up.’

  ‘Piers sends his love and says, “Are you staying to supper?” He’s dropping in on Felix and then meeting a client for a quick half in the pub but he won’t be late and he’d love to see you.’

  ‘That’s very sweet of him,’ said Teresa, gratified. ‘Would I be a nuisance?’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Tilda slipped an arm about her mother’s shoulders, giving her a quick hug. ‘Come on upstairs and see Jake’s new gear and then I’ll put you to peeling vegetables. There’s no such thing as a free supper at Michaelgarth.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Felix moved quietly about the flat, carrying the tea-things into the long, narrow kitchen – his galley – putting the biscuit tin away in the cupboard. The half-glazed door opened on to the large square platform of an iron staircase and here bloomed a tiny garden of roses, miniature specimens in pots and tubs. He’d cut a perfect yellow bud for Lizzie.

  ‘Put it in your tooth-glass,’ he’d said. ‘It’ll be in full flower by tomorrow.’

  She’d taken it, brushing it across her lips, smiling at him. ‘And you’ll come and have dinner with me?’ His hesitation had been unmistakable. ‘You promised.’

  He’d nodded and, understanding his anxiety but refusing to let him retract, she’d kissed him and gone away. Now, as he washed the cups and saucers, rinsed out the teapot, his thoughts were full of conflicting emotions. How good it had been, how energizing, to talk openly about the past they’d shared, to fill in some of the gaps. Yet for both of them it was as if Piers were in the room with them, his imminent arrival colouring and reshaping their memories.

  ‘Why?’ Lizzie asked, standing beside the birdcage, staring in. ‘I’d never really thought about that before, Felix. Not about why you and Angel began an affair. It just seemed so right, somehow. You belonged with us, that’s how it felt, and yet you had another family.’

  He stood beside her, looking at the fluffy chick, perched beside the two little birds; one with its head flung back, beak open in joyous song, whilst the other listened intently, head on one side.

  ‘To explain all that I’d have to tell you how my marriage was,’ he answered at last, ‘and that’s very difficult. Not because I don’t want you to know but because it must necessarily be one-sided. I can only tell you how it was for me. Marina isn’t here to put her side of the picture. I can only say that I wasn’t a serial adulterer. Angel was my only . . . love.’

  Lizzie, taking a last look into the birdcage, sat herself down in the other wing-chair.

  ‘Tell me about Marina. Tell me how it all started . . .’

  Now, drying the cups carefully, putting them in the cupboard above the working surface, he wondered if he’d managed to be fair. He’d attempted to explain how it had begun: how he had grown to love Marin
a because she had first loved him and how he’d truly believed that she simply needed to be given the encouragement to allow her confidence to build; that he’d been certain that, with his love to lean against, she could overcome her shyness. He’d tried not to put all the blame on Marina’s jealousy, her inability to show physical affection, the silences, but he’d shown how social events had become fraught with dangers because of his friendliness and how innocent conversations were so readily misunderstood.

  ‘Perhaps I should have been more vigilant,’ he said. ‘I’m sure I caused her pain although it was difficult to know quite how to handle it. But it wasn’t simply that I grew tired of being continually judged as a lecherous swine and resented it, the fact is that when I saw Angel I simply fell in love with her. It wasn’t just a physical thing. It was as if we recognized each other in some way and there is no doubt in my mind that, if I had been free, I should have asked her to marry me.’

  ‘Were you ever tempted to leave Marina?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Oh, my dear girl,’ he answered sadly, ‘each time I left you all I wondered if I were crazy. All that love and laughter and warmth. But there was Piers, you see. Even if I could have brought myself to abandon Marina, I could never have given up my son.’ He looked at her quickly, fearful that she might be feeling hurt that he’d been prepared to leave her and Angel, but there was only compassion in her face. ‘I loved you,’ he told her. ‘You were so dear to me, Lizzie, but it was as if you and Angel and Pidge were another world, a different life. Can you understand that? I know that men are able to compartmentalize their lives in a way that doesn’t come easily to most women, and I don’t explain or excuse it.’ He smiled ruefully, self-mockingly. ‘Perhaps I just wanted my cake as well as eating it.’

  ‘And so what happened? Why did you give us up?’

  ‘Marina found out,’ he said. ‘I think she’d suspected for some time but there was . . . a confrontation between her and Angel. She’d brought you down for a holiday . . .’

  She nodded. ‘I can remember it, you know. We saw Marina with Piers in a shop – I’ve no idea which one. I’ve been looking for it but I can’t recognize it although I can remember the smells. Coffee and cheese and stuff like that.’

  ‘Parhams,’ he said at once. ‘Good God, Lizzie! But how could you have been so certain? You were only seven or eight years old.’

  ‘There was a kind of electric current which seemed to sizzle between them,’ she answered, ‘and they glared at each other like two cats. Angel squeezed my hand really tightly and I remember staring at the little boy and knowing that he felt that something was wrong too. There was so much tension. But how could Angel have known who they were? Or Marina, for that matter? That’s what I’ve asked myself so many times.’

  ‘They’d met twice, backstage at the theatre and at a party.’ He sighed heavily. ‘It was a crazy thing to do, to come down on holiday. I knew nothing about it and when Marina confronted me about it I was absolutely thunderstruck. When two worlds collide it has a devastating effect and that’s when I saw that I’d have to stop.’

  ‘But it didn’t stop then, did it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I tried to give you up but I failed. In some ways it was easier because Angel was between contracts with the Old Vic and just after that holiday she began working at one of the other classical reps so the whole scene changed anyway. I told myself that it didn’t hurt anyone if I continued to visit you and Pidge, and I’m afraid that Angel and I still met up occasionally. Then she came back to Bristol and someone saw us together. Marina gave me an ultimatum.’

  ‘Her and Piers, or Angel, Pidge and me?’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ he said wretchedly, ‘just don’t think it was easy. Telling Angel, trying to explain . . .’ and she got up, kneeling beside him so that he put his arm about her whilst staring away the hot, weak tears that burned his eyes.

  Felix swiped at them with the tea-towel, cursing himself, glancing at his wrist-watch: nearly a quarter to six. The relief and joy of talking with Lizzie were beginning to fade before the daunting prospect of Piers’ arrival. How would he be able to behave naturally with his son after such a meeting? In some ways he felt that he’d betrayed Piers by talking to Lizzie so freely, but he couldn’t imagine how it could have been otherwise. Lizzie had the right to a place in his life, to make demands. Yet Piers had rights too: to know that Lizzie had been here and who she was.

  ‘Shall you tell him?’ she’d asked almost fearfully.

  ‘Should you mind? It would be wonderful if everything could be open and above-board but I simply don’t know how to begin. He has always been very loyal to Marina and I can’t imagine how he might take it.’

  ‘He looks nice, Felix.’ She’d sounded rather wistful. ‘I wish we could be friends. Does that sound that crazy? Well, I am crazy. Mad as several hatters.’

  They’d laughed together, ease slipping between them once more.

  ‘I liked the sitcom,’ he’d told her. ‘I can’t tell you how proud I was.’

  She’d grinned at him. ‘Aha!’ she’d said. ‘So that was how you recognized me. All this waffle about second sight . . .’

  She was so like Angel when she smiled. When he’d tried to talk about her own life, however, the smile had faded.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ she’d replied sombrely. ‘Angel, Pidge, Sam. Oh, Felix, I’ve lost them all.’

  She’d got up then, saying that she must go before Piers arrived, pressing him to have dinner later with her at the hotel.

  ‘Good luck with Piers,’ she’d said. ‘But the timing still might not be right. Play it by ear.’

  Nervous now, praying for guidance, Felix went back to the window to stand beside the birdcage, watching for his son. As he saw him at last, coming up from The Steep with that familiar stride, Felix was filled with fear. The mere sight of him, the sheer reality of that hurrying, purposeful figure, made nonsense of the rehearsed phrases and carefully framed apologies: yet he must make the attempt. He’d betrayed both Piers and Lizzie and now the time had come to repair the damage he’d done.

  Felix pressed the button that released the door catch and Piers came in, taking the stairs two at a time, the spectacles case in one hand, his briefcase under his arm.

  ‘Sorry, I’m late,’ he said rather breathlessly. ‘A bit of a drama at the office and then the traffic was very heavy. Look, I’ve had to arrange to meet a client so I can’t stop more than a minute. Just check them and make certain they’re OK.’

  Felix took the case and examined the spectacles, trying them on.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Are you sure you can’t stay? I rather hoped I could discuss something with you.’

  ‘I simply can’t right now, Father. It’s very important that I catch him – it’s John Clarke, remember him? – and I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone . . . if you see what I mean?’

  He grimaced as if apologizing for his clumsiness and Felix smiled understandingly, laying his hand lightly on Piers’ shoulder.

  ‘Don’t give it a thought, my dear boy. Thank you so much for these . . . I suppose you couldn’t come in afterwards?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Father,’ Piers looked harassed, ‘but the fact is Tilda’s got Teresa with her and I suggested that she might like to stay for supper. It’ll look a bit rude if I’m too late and I have no idea how long John might need.’

  ‘I quite understand. Perhaps tomorrow? It’s rather important. Will you telephone? It was good of you to come in . . .’

  He saw him down the stairs, sending his love to Tilda, and went back to the window, feeling ashamed of his huge relief at being let temporarily off the hook, wondering how to arrange another meeting with Piers as soon as possible. Despite this welcome respite, he knew that he simply couldn’t let it slide – if nothing else, Lizzie’s presence required speedy action – but it was difficult to see how to achieve his goal.

  He saw Piers appear from below him, raised his hand in a s
alute and remained, transfixed in shocked horror, his hand still upheld as he watched him cross the road and disappear into the porch of the Luttrell Arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Refreshed by a shower, Lizzie pottered between bathroom and bedroom, trying to decide what to wear for dinner with Felix. She was buoyed up with a sense of wild elation: she’d found him – and the birdcage – and simply being there in his flat, talking with him, had eased the loneliness that had haunted her for the last few months. His evident delight in her company had given her confidence a boost and – despite her anxiety about Piers – she’d felt an uprush of high spirits.

  Crooning to herself ‘Can’t Help Loving that Man of Mine’, hamming it up as she wound the springing tendrils of her thick mass of hair into a low knot at the back of her neck, she sat for a moment staring at herself in the mirror. She made a few faces – it never ceased to amaze her how easily one set of features could be changed into so many different expressions – and wondered how Felix was managing with Piers, trying to imagine what his reaction would be: how he would feel when Felix began to disinter the past. She could picture the scene – Felix in his wing-chair with Piers sitting opposite – but with what words, she wondered, would the scene begin? She tried a few phrases and dismissed them as over-dramatic or pathetically banal. It became clear to her that it would be very difficult for Felix to advance without antagonizing Piers almost at once.

  ‘By the way, you remember that mistress I had when you were a boy . . . ?’ or, ‘You’ll never guess who’s in Dunster, Piers . . .’

  How would he explain her presence without it sounding impossibly contrived?

  ‘Well, you see Pidge and Angel died quite a while back and when she lost her husband she decided to . . .’

  To what? To seek out her mother’s lover? After thirty-five years? She could imagine the sceptical look on Piers’ face; his ‘oh, yeah!’ expression. He might think that she and Felix had been in contact since Angel’s death and even believe that the affair itself had gone on much longer than Felix had admitted. When she’d asked how he’d explained the presence of the birdcage to his son, Felix had told her that Piers had never asked about it, behaving as if some instinct warned him against seeking an answer that might hurt him.