The Other Rebecca

by Maureen Freely

  ‘Would you like to come up to the front?’ Danny asked. ‘It would be so much cosier.’

  But I did not want to go up to the front. I clung to Max as if he were a life raft.

  Cheerfully oblivious to me and to the minutiae on the road ahead of her, Danny launched into a painfully detailed account of how this genius therapist (‘or I suppose I should say analyst’) had cured her of insomnia, claustrophobia, separation anxiety and hypochondria. His main method seemed to have been bullying.

  ‘Is he asleep yet?’ Danny kept asking. When I said he was, she said, ‘Good, then I can mention the R word.’ She went on to tell me that it was not just Rebecca’s death that had sent her into therapy but Max’s and the children’s hostility to her when she was only trying to help them during the mourning period. ‘They hated me for being me. No, it was even worse than that. They hated me for not being her. I remember going to this therapist in tears one afternoon – it was some detail that had made me feel particularly unwelcome, I think young William had asked me to go home and die or whatever – and I remember saying to my genius that William had hurt my feelings so that I no longer felt I belonged in that house, and in a booming voice, he said to me, “Now tell me, who does belong in that house? Not even Max belongs in that house. The house doesn’t belong to him, and neither do the children. His cousins don’t belong to his uncle. His aunt gets along better with him than with her own children. By her own definition of bloodlines, she is a turncoat in a cul-de-sac!’” Danny laughed at the memory. ‘I felt better after that. I wish I could say I didn’t have cause to remember those words often. Still – it doesn’t matter if you belong or not. In the end, that’s not what matters, is it? What matters is that you call it home.’

  But by the time Beckfield loomed into view, I no longer knew whether I wanted to call it home. I had the beginnings of a headache. The glistening delivery van, the men and women bustling back and forth with crates of wine and glasses, the wild but balanced bursts of colour in the flower beds, the freshly cut lawn and perfect tennis court hurt my eyes. I didn’t want to get out of the car. I wanted to sit there in the back with Max’s warm head in my lap. When he sat up, stretched his arms and said, ‘Hey ho, back to work, then,’ I wanted to scream. He wanted me to go straight over to the big house with him to find out what needed to be done for the party. But I couldn’t face it. Instead I went back to the cottage to hide in yet another bath. This time when the water cooled I kept adding more hot to it. I must have been in there over an hour when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Yoohoo!’ It was Bea. ‘Everything all right in there?’

  A huge and, I told myself, unjustified wave of rage ran through me. Why couldn’t they leave me alone? I wasn’t like them. I couldn’t go for days and days of polite, witty, superficial conversation without a break. How was I going to get through the party that evening if I didn’t have an afternoon to prepare myself for it? It was all I could do to answer politely.

  ‘I thought you might need a bit of wardrobe advice,’ she now said.

  I felt like saying, ‘I’ll wear whatever the hell I feel like wearing!’ But I reminded myself that she was only trying to help. ‘I thought I’d wear that dress we bought together last week,’ I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

  ‘Lovely. Perfect. It’s just what I would have advised. How are you feeling, my dear? Was it a total nightmare?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said.

  ‘Why don’t I go downstairs and make us some tea?’

  When I got downstairs, I felt like running into the bedroom and bolting the door. If I have to have one more amusing conversation, I thought, my head is going to explode. But I reminded myself again that Bea was not to blame for my state of mind. So I forced a smile onto my face as I joined her at the dining table.

  She had set it with one of my new Provençal tablecloths and a tea set I didn’t recognise. The vase she had filled with flowers from the garden was new, too. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I saw these on sale and I couldn’t resist. If you don’t like them, I’ll have them myself. So tell me,’ she said as she poured me my tea. Tell me everything. How did it go?’

  ‘Well enough, I suppose.’

  ‘Nonsense! Nothing is ever well enough at gothic Brambles. Frightfully interesting, yes, but also rather sick-making, if you ask me. Unless you like games like Musical Bedrooms. I did once, although now I can’t imagine why. I can’t tell you how much my life has improved since I gave up sex. Did they all behave as badly as ever? What’s your verdict on my darling sister? Is she totally mad or does it come and go? Last time I was there she had a long argument with the head of Hannibal. Did she interrogate you, my dear?’

  ‘There was one difficult breakfast,’ I conceded.

  ‘You poor, dear thing! She’s a dreadful snob, that woman, especially since she turned to Rome, and like most snobs she usually gets her facts wrong. Did you notice how she lowers her voice just before she drops a name? One of the great tragedies of her life is that I managed in the end to do quite well for myself. She hasn’t a charitable bone in her body. I can’t imagine how we managed to be born of the same mother. I always rather suspected she was a changeling. The only good thing she ever did was give us Max. Was he able to be polite to her?’

  ‘Only just,’ I told her.

  ‘I suppose he finds those priests of hers terribly tiresome. I often wonder what they must make of the Curse of the Midwinters. I am rather fond of Jonathan, poor fellow. I’m sorry you shan’t have a chance to know him properly, now that he’s terminally gaga. And how did Danny behave?’

  ‘Inconsistently,’ I said.

  ‘Well, it’s as much as could be expected under the circumstances. It’s all getting to her rather! Although I do wonder sometimes how she is going to keep herself occupied once she has finished forging Rebecca’s collected letters.’

  ‘You aren’t serious about the forging part?’ I said.

  ‘Oh, I am. But I’m not sure if I care. At the moment, I’m rather more interested in the skeleton. You haven’t mentioned the skeleton.’

  ‘Who told you about the skeleton?’

  ‘My sister, of course. She only rings me when she has some news that might upset me. Not that she told me much. She just said that you and the children had discovered an interesting skeleton. I did try and do some fishing when I spoke to St Tatiana later on, but she wouldn’t give me a thing. Went rather high and mighty on me, actually. It was all rather annoying. Has anyone worked out who the woman might have been?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure the bones belonged to a dog,’ I said. ‘It was just a trick Max’s mother played on Max to make him uncomfortable. Now she’s played the same trick on you.’

  ‘Goodness, how dippy!’

  ‘She’s dippy all right. She managed to shunt the blame over to me, though,’ I found myself saying. ‘Which shouldn’t have surprised me, as it seems to be my purpose in life. Or at least in this family.’

  This time Bea did miss a beat. ‘Oh?’ she said, looking up with a glassy smile.

  To my horror, my voice decided to explain.

  ‘My chief asset, as far as I can see, is that I don’t belong here. People feel sorry for me because I don’t belong, and that’s why they’re careful to be nice to me, but I can’t be allowed to forget my place, can I? Or should I say, my lack of place? And so they keep having to remind me – while also making it impossible to leave. Or even take a bath without someone coming to check on me. I’m sorry if that sounds churlish.’

  ‘Nonsense! It doesn’t sound churlish at all.’ Bea reached into her basket for a cigarette. Once she had lit it, she gave me another glassy smile. ‘I do like the way you speak your mind, it’s so refreshing.’ But she exhaled with distaste. It was as if I had served her a plate of food good manners prevented her from pointing out was rotten.

  I was horrified at what I had said. What my voice had said. I opened my mouth to apologise. ‘I know it doesn’t mean very much,’ I said inst
ead. ‘You don’t need to tell me. I know it’s a game. As far as I can see, everything in this family is a game.’

  ‘Goodness, what a fascinating theory,’ Bea said, exhaling through her nostrils this time. ‘Did you think it up all by yourself?’

  ‘Of course not. When do I ever? But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Not that I’m the only odd one out. As Danny pointed out to me in the car coming down from Derbyshire, no one else belongs here either.’

  ‘Oh, did she now? Goodness, how very, very dippy! Whatever must you make of us? Can’t pass through Heathrow without being tracked by photographers. Can’t go for a walk without finding a corpse that turns out to be a dog. Can’t even play a parlour game without destroying a family heirloom, by the sound of it. And now it turns out that, appearances notwithstanding, we none of us belong here! Are you going to be able to put up with us, darling, or have you come to the conclusion that you’d rather not?’

  Taken aback by the new edge in her voice, appalled that I was the one who had invited it, I faltered. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You’ve all been very kind. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, and I probably don’t deserve it. I wasn’t trying to say that, it’s just that … I’m only just finding my feet … and even though I want things to work out, it’s really too soon to say. Don’t you think?’

  ‘No, actually, I don’t think it’s too soon to say. If you don’t mind my being honest. If you don’t mind my saying so, darling, it’s really getting rather tricky.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m surprised one has to spell it out. It isn’t as if one had been particularly subtle. But it is rather difficult, wouldn’t you agree, to put a distance between you and the children when you’re all living practically on top of each other?’

  ‘But there’s no need to keep them away from me! I like children! I’m happy to do anything with them! I just don’t want to interfere! I’ve just been waiting for them to come to me, like for example the way they did at Bramble House this weekend! I thought everyone knew that!’

  ‘Of course we know that, darling. Just as we all appreciate all the reasons why you would rather not rush into marriage.’

  ‘What does that have to do with it?’

  ‘Rather a lot, actually. I know that the modern view is that it is best to let things take their natural course. On the other hand, one must take the children into consideration. I think I agree with Tatiana here that this is one thing my sister Caroline, my dippy sister Caroline, as you so kindly put it, is right about. I’m sure you’ll agree, once you’ve given it some thought, that it’s better for them to have as little as possible to do with you until such time as you are sure you want to take them on. At the same time, one accepts that it would be impossible for you to come to a proper decision, were they to be removed from the scene entirely. It’s really rather tricky. Rather a large headache. You do see my point, I hope.’ Her voice was raised now. ‘I hope you don’t think me rude or unreasonable.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said, but my cheeks were hot with shame.

  ‘I would like to be able to tell you that you had all the time in the world, my dear,’ she said, an inimical wryness now invading her tone. ‘But I’m afraid I’m going to have to be brutal. You must make up your mind. Either we announce an engagement by mid-September, with a view to a wedding before Christmas. Or you put your charming little sumak back into your case with those three marvellous photographs and you leave.’

  ‘But I never said I didn’t intend to … I never would have let you do anything to the spare bedroom if I hadn’t thought … I never … I could never subject the children to the distress of a … you must understand that the only reason I’d leave would be if Max actually asked me … I’m as serious about this as I would be if we had already exchanged vows.’

  ‘It’s not the same. Your private views are not in question, neither is your character. I know you’re perfectly capable of being a good wife even if you turn out to be an unhappy one. But you must also be seen to be good. You must draw the blinds. We’ve had enough intrusion as it is. Like it or not, we shall have more. You must convince Max that the children cannot take any more uncertainty.’

  ‘But what if he wants to wait until—’

  ‘Put your foot down, my dear. That’s what feet are for.’

  She stood up. ‘I’m giving you a fortnight. That’s all we can afford. Bye for now!’ she said as she slammed the door behind her.

  I felt as if she had slammed me against the wall. What had come over me? Where had those words come from? Did I even believe them? My tea grew cold. The first time I looked at my watch it was four o’clock. Then it was twenty past, a few minutes before five, and half past. Every time I tried to gather myself up to go into the bedroom to dress for the party, I couldn’t seem to issue the command to my feet. I was still sitting there in my dressing gown when Max came in.

  ‘What’s going on? It’s just gone six. Rude people who don’t read the fine print on their invitations have already starting arriving,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you dressed?’

  When I didn’t answer, he sat down next to me and said, ‘Oh, dear, oh, dear. Who’s done what now?’

  ‘It’s partly my fault. Bea came over wanting to know what happened at Bramble House and I managed to offend her.’

  ‘Well, these things happen. Don’t worry. She’ll get over it.’

  ‘I don’t think so. She sounded pretty sure of herself. Max, she’s more or less given me my walking papers. She wants me to go in two weeks’ time if we’re not getting married.’

  ‘Oh, does she?’ he said. His tone was indecipherable.

  ‘I’d like to know how you feel about it.’

  ‘It ought to be obvious how I feel about it. It really depends more on you.’

  ‘I thought marriage was something people decided on together.’

  ‘In this case, clearly not. Clearly it’s Bea who’s calling the shots, and if that’s all right with you, I suppose it’s going to have to be bloody all right with me.’

  ‘I’m just repeating what she said to me. She implied I would be hurting the children if I didn’t make up my mind.’

  ‘And do you think she’s right?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to think about anything! I’m totally in the dark! I’ve never been so confused in my entire life. What the hell is wrong with your family? What the hell did you do to Rebecca?’

  His back was to me as I said this. I saw him flinch. Then, very slowly, he turned around to look at me. The famous bones were nowhere in evidence. Anger had made him look deformed. He raised his arm and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me. Then he dropped it and took a breath.

  Once recomposed, he said, ‘Bea may be right. She usually is. You must leave if you think it best. I would never stand in your way. In fact, as you may remember, I’ve already said as much.’ He headed for the door, ducked his head, then paused, propped his long arm on the doorframe and turned around again. ‘All I ask is that I be the first one to know. If that’s not too much to ask.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  At the launch that night, I saw it for the first time: not just women, but streams of women rushing towards him, trying to get as close to him as they could, and Max letting them get close. Max putting his hand on their shoulders, smiling down at them too happily, taking them by the hand and pulling them out to the bench next to the French doors, pretending to the chosen woman that he did not want anyone to interrupt them, but then flashing a grateful smile at any woman who did. The effort of not looking drained me of whatever ability I might have had to circulate.

  Giles did his best to divert my attention. ‘There’s someone you ought to meet,’ he would say when he caught me pulling back to edges of the party. Having pushed me into a new group of polite but too curious faces and completed the formalities, he would point to one of them and add, ‘You two have something in common.�
� It would be something different each time. Sometimes we had the same publisher or had attended the same schools, or different schools in the same part of the country. A few had spent time in Deia. Giles would hang on until our conversation about whatever we had in common seemed established. He would dash away satisfied that he had broken the ice, but without his help I floundered. It was always the same set of questions I had to answer, always the same pursed, polite smile I got in return. I did not know what to ask them back. I knew it was rude to ask people what they did, but if you didn’t know what they did, how could you ask them anything? I sipped my drinks too fast and soon became light-headed. I got myself a glass of water and sat down next to the fireplace, only to find that I had too good a view of the scene on the bench outside the French doors. First I craned my neck in order not to look. Then I succumbed to the temptation and was unable to take my eyes off them.

  The woman was in her late twenties or early thirties, with bright-red lipstick that matched the flowers in her low-cut dress. She had a theatrical way of throwing her long blonde hair back when she laughed. She had her hand on Max’s knee.

  ‘Our name for her in the back room is Madame Blackberry.’ It was Crawley, who had seated himself next to me. ‘We cannot for the life of us figure out why Giles ever wanted to publish her. He must be afraid of the scene she’d make if he tried to pull out. Our current theory is poetic blackmail. Perhaps she’s told him that unless he continues to publish her, she’ll dedicate a poem cycle to him.’ He assumed a falsetto: ‘I went out to pick some blackberries … they were bruised as my dead mother’s nipples… they burst into my cupped hands… their sticky juices went down my arms in ragged red rivulets… my lap runneth over with blood… It’s enough to make you want to go back to hunter gathering.’ He shook his head, then turned to look me in the eye and said, ‘So. You’ve finally turned him down, have you?’

  ‘Who told you that?’