Echoes of a Life

by Robin Byron

  Jake was ready with his answer. ‘To be honest, Leah, I had forgotten almost everything about the play except for the bare outline. I didn’t even remember the characters of Thomasina or Septimus. I wanted to see it again because it’s regarded as maybe Stoppard’s best play – it’s clever and funny, and I thought you would enjoy it.’

  Leah smiled, and Jake was relieved to feel that the moment of tension had evaporated. ‘Yeah, it’s really cool, and I love Thomasina. She may be ignorant of life but she’s so ferociously clever. Books, literature – that’s all very well. But maths and physics – that takes real intelligence. I wish I understood that part better.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, hardly anyone else does either. Just sit back and enjoy it and in the meantime stay here while I fight my way to the bar to get us a drink.’

  Leah seemed strangely preoccupied as they walked away from the matinée performance towards the Italian bistro in Soho where Jake had booked a table. Her hands remained firmly in the pockets of her coat and Jake chose not to force a conversation but guided her through the early evening crowds towards the restaurant. Their table wasn’t ready so they took a seat at the bar and Jake ordered a bottle of the Pinot Grigio. As they sipped their wine and nibbled on grissini, it wasn’t long before Leah recovered her voice. ‘So Thomasina dies in a fire on her seventeenth birthday – I can’t bear it. All that brilliance going to waste.’

  For a fleeting moment Jake thought of his twin sister and remembered why the play had affected him so much when he had first seen it. Then he laughed. ‘It’s a story, Leah. Her death is just a theatrical device.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that, but you have to believe in the characters. They have to be real to you – otherwise what’s the point?’

  ‘By all means believe in the characters – but it’s the ideas that make you think.’

  ‘So who’s right?’ asked Leah. ‘They never really tell you, these authors, do they? They love teasing you – posing questions. I mean, the creepy prof who rubbishes science. Stoppard didn’t really think that science was a waste of time, did he? Or perhaps he did – I mean he was a writer, so perhaps he’s just for art and poetry. The human heart and all that stuff.’

  ‘Well, I think he’s saying you need both.’

  ‘Yeah, but I suppose the prof character…’

  ‘You mean Bernard?’

  ‘Yeah, Bernard, I mean, he’s right in a way, isn’t he? We can get on with our lives as humans always have, eating, sleeping, mating, without knowing what’s happening in the universe or why.’

  ‘Well, I suppose some aspects of science, some technologies, medicine and so on are pretty useful to us.’

  ‘Yeah, but Stoppard’s not talking about practical science; he’s talking about maths, about the second law of thermodynamics – Newton, Einstein, the end of the universe.’

  ‘So, what seems most important to you?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, to have a scientific understanding of the universe – as far as that’s possible – or to hell with it.’

  ‘It has to be to hell with it,’ said Leah, ‘because I can’t get my mind around all this higher maths, these iterated algorithms – so I’m a simple romantic by default. Perhaps as I grow older I will change and morph into a mathematician or a philosopher.’

  Jake laughed. ‘I think you are right – human life reverses the historical pattern. In history, romanticism arrives as a reaction to classicism – a break out from the rigidity of the classical world. A “decline from thinking to feeling”, the play calls it, but in life we are all born as romantics, able to feel long before we can think seriously.’

  Leah frowned and nibbled on her grissini. ‘I’m not so sure about that. When we are very young we have instincts – to suckle, to cling to our mothers – but that’s not proper feeling. As we grow older we are constantly applying our brains to things, thinking all the time, asking questions of ourselves and others and trying to make sense of the world.’ Leah paused and sipped her wine. ‘You know, little kids – they ask direct questions. Is Grandpa going to die? Do cats go to heaven? They are supremely rational with a strong sense of logic but their feelings are still shallow. At six or seven we may be sad if someone close to us dies but we don’t really feel it. Not deep down. Not like we do when we are older – when we know what death really means…’

  Leah’s torrent of words dried up and Jake was suddenly reminded that Leah was only eighteen herself. A teenager wrestling with familiar philosophical questions as well as real-life events. Marianne’s demise, whenever and however it came about, would likely be her first experience of death. He was relieved, therefore, when the arrival of a waiter to show them to their seats blew away the spectre of Auntie Manne, draining the last dregs of her hemlock, which for a moment had floated down between them.

  It was Leah, however, who returned to the subject of death. ‘You said you were going to tell me something more about AD?’

  ‘Yes, as I said, I’m not supposed to know this, but the Chronicle is doing some investigation into AD and Mills told me a bit about it. What they’re interested in is whether all these commercial clinics which have sprung up are bending the law and offering AD to people who shouldn’t qualify. They’ve got a source at one of the clinics feeding them information. Apparently, the clinics are paying commissions to hospitals and GPs to get patient referrals.’

  As he talked, Jake sensed that while Leah appeared to be listening politely her mind was elsewhere. ‘I think I’m boring you with all this,’ he said.

  Leah smiled. ‘I am listening, but it’s true, I can’t get the play out of my mind. So, Thomasina and Septimus are falling in love at the end? And when she dies we are supposed to understand that Septimus goes to live in the hermitage? So in many ways he is a romantic figure, living the life of a hermit and trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe which were puzzling poor Thomasina.’

  ‘I suppose you can see him as a romantic figure.’

  ‘Can you see yourself in a cave then – dreaming of a lost girl?’ said Leah, and for a brief moment Jake thought again of Fran and realised that it was exactly such a black pit at the edge of which his life had, for a time, been precariously balanced. He was also conscious that Leah was now flirting with him, but he saw no reason not to reciprocate.

  ‘I suppose if the girl was as brilliant and beautiful as Thomasina, then perhaps I might.’

  ‘Indeed, but where would you find such a girl?’ said Leah. ‘You know, I like the name Septimus – better than Jake, don’t you think? Perhaps I shall call you Septimus – then you will be both my tutor and my pupil.’

  ‘… quite a challenge.’

  ‘Mind you, spending the rest of his life in a hermitage was something of a transformation for Septimus and not entirely believable – even as an act of devotion to the tragic Thomasina. From friend of Lord Byron and summer-house shagger, to a lifetime hermit – I don’t think that quite stacks up in terms of character. What about you, Septimus?’ she said, looking hard at Jake. ‘Do you get up to that kind of thing? In the gazebo – with other people’s wives?’

  ‘Preferably not with other people’s wives,’ said Jake, laughing. ‘And come to think of it, probably not in a gazebo either.’ What he thought, though, as he looked across the table to his now grown-up cousin with her infectious smile and sparkling blue eyes, was shit – bloody brilliant, this girl. Clever, funny and highly shaggable – take her back and fuck her to bits – but I mustn’t. No, I shouldn’t think like that. I must be careful, so far and no further…

  He had the same thought when Leah planted a discreet kiss on the edge of his lips to thank him for the dinner. He thought it again when it was clear that she was expecting to come back to his flat and not be put into a taxi or escorted to the nearest tube station; and most strongly did he think it yet again when, back in his flat and almost as soon as th
e door had closed behind them, he found himself in an embrace with Leah where her tongue was slipping stealthily between his lips. In his mind, it was clear to him that he must resist, but it seemed his body was intent on a different plan, as his left hand moved beneath her hair to caress her neck and his right hand clutched firmly at her bottom.

  When they broke from their embrace, Leah disappeared to the bathroom and Jake rearranged his clothing and sat down on the sofa to recover his composure. Just a kiss, an after-dinner kiss – of course that’s fine, can’t be criticised. So perhaps a drink now, tea or coffee, then one more kiss and I’ll call a taxi for her. Jake had hardly gathered his thoughts when Leah was out of the bathroom.

  ‘Would you like a coffee or another drink?’ he asked. Leah shook her head, came towards the sofa and promptly sat on his lap, twisting her body towards him and with both arms around his neck resumed where they had left off.

  The effect of her twisted body on her already short skirt was to further expose her long creamy legs, on one of which Jake rested his hand a little above her knee. As they continued to kiss and his state of arousal grew, he longed to move his hand further up her leg but he was equally determined not to do so, and thus his hand remained, clamped and immobile, on her soft warm thigh. As if she sensed his own struggle, Leah broke off from their kiss and whispered, ‘It’s OK, I want you to touch me,’ and, taking his hand, she moved it up between her thighs until the tips of his fingers met her soft wet flesh.

  The effect electrified them both. For Leah, there was a short gasp and her mouth locked back onto his. For Jake, a realisation that he was about to pass the point of no return, made him remove his hand and leap to his feet with Leah still clinging to his neck, so that they both almost toppled to the ground.

  ‘What the fuck…’

  ‘Leah, we mustn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, it’s not really right – I’m your cousin and I’m a lot older than you…’

  ‘You still think of me as a child, don’t you?’

  ‘No, not at all, Leah. I think you’re incredibly grown up… and there’s nothing I’d like more than to make love to you, but don’t you see? Your mum and dad – I have some responsibility to them. They think I’m giving you work experience, looking after you, mentoring you – not seducing you…’

  ‘Well, you’re certainly not doing that – it seems I’m doing most of the heavy lifting, in case you hadn’t noticed?’

  ‘Of course I want to, but…’

  ‘Always some “but”, isn’t there? Do you think I’ve never done it before? Christ, I’ve shagged boys with bigger balls than you.’

  ‘Leah…’

  ‘I’m leaving now,’ and slipping her feet back into her shoes Leah reached for her coat and bag and made towards the door.

  ‘Leah, wait. I’m sorry. Please…’

  He watched as the door slammed behind her.

  25

  Marianne knew that from now on it could only get harder. She knew that Dorrie had spoken to Callum; she had also received a message herself. ‘The champagne is on ice,’ Dorrie had concluded. ‘Tell me that you have abandoned this terrible idea and we will celebrate together.’

  The possibility that she might change her mind was, Marianne now realised, a vital straw which friends and relatives had to cling on to. Death is just too final, too incomprehensible; even the most phlegmatic need some wriggle-room, some sense that their goodbye may not be the final word. Even Callum, who was now visiting with Leah, seemed to be sheltering behind the thought that there was still plenty of time for her to change her mind.

  It was Marianne who had persuaded Callum to bring Leah with him. ‘You haven’t told her, have you?’ she said to him when he called to say he was coming.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. It will be my goodbye to her – not the other way around.’ She had no intention of inflicting an emotional scene on the poor girl – she would say nothing to her, but she wanted to see her one last time. ‘Tell her I have a present for her which I meant to give her on her eighteenth birthday but, being the stupid old woman I am, I forgot.’ She did indeed have a present for Leah – a necklace which had belonged to her mother: a string of antique pearls with a large central pearl surrounded by an outer ring of small diamonds.

  To give himself an opportunity to see his mother alone, Callum had dropped Leah off in Cambridge to visit a school friend. He waited till Anna had gone, then said, ‘So Anna doesn’t know yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I suppose you think that means that I haven’t finally decided – but you’re wrong.’

  ‘I see it as an indication you might still change your mind.’

  Perhaps I should let him believe that, Marianne thought. Whatever makes it easiest for him also makes it easiest for me. She shrugged. ‘I’ll have to tell her eventually of course – but closer to the time will be better.’

  ‘You know I’m really not comfortable about this.’

  ‘I know, darling, but you did say you would support my decision when the time came.’

  ‘That’s the point – I don’t see that the time has come yet.’

  ‘Was it Dorrie who prompted you to come today?’

  ‘Mum – I’m here for myself – but Dorrie made a very strong case that you still have a lot to live for. She’s a good friend to you.’

  Poor Callum, thought Marianne, as she listened to his argument. Assaulted on every side. His wife no doubt whispering in his ear that it was high time he let his mother go and if she didn’t die soon there wouldn’t be anything left for them to inherit; now a contrary broadside from Dorrie. Marianne felt wretched that she was putting her son in this invidious position, but she was sure that it was for the best. In a few months he would be grateful for what she was doing.

  When Leah arrived on the bus, Callum took the opportunity to go into another room and make some phone calls, while Marianne talked to her about her visit to Cambridge and her life in London. Getting to know at least one of her (great) grandchildren had been a delight which Marianne had never anticipated in the last years of her life. There was something about the girl which seemed to transcend the limitations of her parents: she had managed to avoid both the stolid quality which had always marked out Callum and the aura of discontent which hovered around her mother. Maybe it’s just the energy of youth, she thought, but the girl has blossomed since she’s been in England.

  ‘Any news on your Cambridge application?’ she asked.

  ‘No. But it could be, like, the next couple of weeks.’

  ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.’

  ‘I’m not that hopeful.’

  ‘Well, let’s wait and see. And life in London?’

  ‘Sweet as.’

  Marianne raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Sorry, Gran – that’s Aussie talk. Life’s good.’

  ‘I gather you are helping Jake with his work?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m really enjoying it.’

  ‘And going to the theatre with him, I hear.’

  ‘Yeah, that was… yeah, a really interesting play. Arcadia – it was like… well, I expect you know it…’

  Marianne watched as a blush rose up from Leah’s neck.

  ‘Do I detect that there is something going on between you two?’

  Leah looked uncomfortable and turned to see if her father was anywhere near. ‘Would it be very wrong – I mean, if Jake and I got together, like in a relationship?’

  ‘Why ever should it be wrong?’

  ‘I mean with us being cousins and stuff…’

  ‘Nonsense. You’re quite distant.’

  Leah looked at Marianne with gratitude. ‘I know he’s a bit older than I am…’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Leah – you’re eighteen. Girls of your age u
sed to marry men of forty, sometimes still do. So, do I take it that there is something going on between you?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Have you shagged…’

  ‘Gran!’

  ‘… if that’s the right expression – or am I out of date?’

  Leah turned again to look at the door.

  ‘Don’t look so shocked – even in my day we did it occasionally.’

  ‘Well, it’s early days – but don’t say anything to Mum and Dad. Especially not to Mum – I know she won’t approve.’

  ‘I won’t say a word. But if your mother gets difficult about it you can tell her from me that I think it’s absolutely fine. I think Jake is a charming young man and would make an excellent boyfriend for you.’

  ‘Oh, Gran,’ said Leah, as she knelt to kiss Marianne. ‘You’re such a star.’

  What irony, thought Marianne, those years when I wanted Callum to get together with Juliette and now Leah has fallen for Jake. And what if I had been allowed to go on seeing Daniel… And for a moment she was back in her own past – seventy-five years dissolving in an instant – and she was lying in their little hideaway by the cliff, reading to Daniel, reading the French novel he couldn’t understand, while he tried to imitate her sounds, before he rolled on top of her, pressing her down into the grass…

  ‘Gran?’

  Marianne shook herself out of her reverie. ‘Yes, I’m dreaming. Disappearing into my past – I’m afraid it’s what happens when you get to my age. Now I mustn’t forget the main reason I asked you to come today,’ and Marianne reached for the battered green leather jewellery box beside her chair and handed it to Leah. ‘I meant to give it to you for your birthday in April. It’s a little old for you, perhaps, but I hope you will wear it in time.’

  Leah picked up the necklace and held it up. ‘Wow, Gran – it’s awesome. Incredible.’

  ‘Try it on then.’

  Marianne watched as Leah put the necklace on; she had cut her hair since Marianne had last seen her and at shoulder length it suited her better. As Leah fastened the clasp and lifted her head Marianne felt a choke in her throat – she knew that this was the last time she would ever see Leah, but it wasn’t just that: there was something about the girl’s eyebrows, that suggestion of a curl at the outer edge, and those piercing blue eyes that brought back Izzy so strongly… She remembered when Izzy had tried on the necklace at the same age. It came over Marianne suddenly and with such violence that she couldn’t help herself; tears began to roll down her cheeks.