As she walked down the slight hill towards the promenade she took off her hat and scrunched it up, stuffing it into her handbag. He was not worth it. All the anger she had spent on him, all the hours she had wasted thinking of what he had done to her and hating him, all that time and energy had been wasted.
He was just not worth it.
She stood holding onto the railings overlooking the beach and watching the waves break. She took out the pins that were holding her hair in a French roll and shook her hair free, swinging it from side to side in the wind. “I’m free of him.” She kicked off her shoes and grabbing them she slid between the railings and jumped the three feet down onto the beach to run over the sand, still warm after the day’s sun, wheeling her arms around like windmills. She ran, laughing along the beach towards the sun, one hand swinging her bag, the other her shoes.
She was free.
She had run past where the promenade turned up towards the town and in amongst the dunes that piled up against the old sea wall she stopped running and slumped down into the protection of a curve in sand. She sat there her legs straight out towards the sun, her eyes closed, enjoying the last warmth from the sun’s rays, her fingers digging into the warm sand.
She had neither seen nor heard him as he walked along the sea wall, watching her. She did not notice him at all until she felt her arm pulled sharply, dragging her upright, her eyes opening wide as her body was jerked round to face him. They stood close to each other, face to face in the dunes.
“You loved me once. You cared once.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You did, in the beginning, you believed in me then.”
“Not for long.”
He grabbed her other arm and pulled her round to face him. He kissed her roughly. “Alicia, Alicia, I loved you once.” As he fumbled with her clothing, “I want you now.”
Her feeling of freedom had gone but she didn’t cower. She was no longer the Alicia who would have been afraid of him or compliant to his wishes. She was far more calculating now.
As he held her, kissing her roughly, she was thinking fast “Could this give me the hold I need over him? Should I pretend I don’t want to, but go along with it so that he’ll feel guilty?” Yes, she certainly wanted him to feel guilt. But if he raped her, as she knew he had the strength to do, it would hand the power over to him again. She did not want that.
So she went along with the moment.
“Oh Arnold!”
They dropped together down onto the sand dunes and he began pulling at her clothing, and she at his.
Alicia described this years later, with not a little satisfaction.
“He wanted to take the only thing he could have, sexual satisfaction. He put his face into my neck and breathed my smell, as if he was having something he had missed. He kissed my neck, my breasts, my stomach, enjoying the touch and the smell of me. For just a few minutes he was the young lover again.
“But I wasn’t.
“This was where I had wanted to get him. In my power. All our lives together he had been the strong one. He had been the one with the power over me, the one with the money, the male with power over the female, the man with education, manners and class over the crippled, working class girl. His power had always been its most fearful in the bedroom where he had so often made me do things that disgusted me.
“But I was more experienced now, I knew how to make him suffer.
“First I made him last, I was not going to let him come until it hurt him. I knew how to make him want me more and more until it was unbearable. I teased and tantalised him. I blessed Max for teaching me the things I really needed to know about how a man and a woman can torture each other as they give themselves and each other pleasure. I worked on him until he had no idea who he was with or what he was doing. Thank you Max, thank you for teaching me the things I knew at this moment to deny this man what he craved. To have the power. To be in charge. I pushed him away just as he ejaculated fiercely into nothingness.
“I sorted out my clothes and stood up, I looked at him with shirt and tie almost immaculate but nothing ordered below his waist, his pants round his knees and his trousers round his ankles. I laughed at his discomfort and I told him never, ever to touch me again. I said I despised him. He had just proved how weak he was. He was always going to be a complete failure, in business, in politics and with women.”
He had asked her “Why are you doing this?”
“To prove what a shit you are Arnold. What a complete and utter shit. Oh how proud you were of your prowess in bed! Whoever said you were any good? Kathleen? You were never any good to anyone but yourself. You have always been totally useless in that department. Did no one ever teach you that your job was to give as well as take? To give pleasure not pain? To build up and worship not denigrate and humiliate? Did nobody ever teach you how to make a woman feel so good that you were like a god to her to make her feel that way. No I don’t suppose they ever did. You are a fool Arnold. A sad, sad fool.”
She turned and walked away with a purpose.
While she had the initiative she would confront them all. She walked the few hundred yards to Millcourt with her head held high feeling more confident than she had for years.
As she rounded the corner of the house she turned to look down on the garden where there were two young people playing, a girl holding a cricket bat and laughing as the boy bowled quite hard and quite fast at her, she whacked the ball which was hotly pursued into the bushes by two barking golden retrievers. They all seemed happy.
She sat on the top step looking down at them wondering why she felt no rush of affection for her daughter. She had wanted to be loved. She wanted Susannah and Charles to need her, but she could never love or need them.
She watched as Cook brought out a tray of lemonade and the children sat down on the grass. They were obviously friends. She couldn’t bear that.
She couldn’t bear that her daughter was close to Arnold’s son.
She didn’t wave or try to communicate when Cook glanced up, undoubtedly recognising her old mistress as she walked back with the tray.
Cook went through the French windows into the hall and sat down on the nearest chair to collect her thoughts.
A few moments later Kathleen walked in “What’s wrong Cook?”
“Nothing wrong Madam, nothing wrong. Just a bit out of breath.”
“What’s going on out there? Susannah winning?”
“I don’t know, just their usual fun Madam, I’ll get to the kitchen now.” Remembering herself “Is there anything I can get you Madam?”
The telephone rang so she reached over and lifted the receiver.
“Hoylake 2302 The Donaldson Residence.”
Cook answered automatically in her ‘telephone voice’.
“Yes Sir.”
“Yes Sir. Immediately Sir. No trouble Sir. Yes Sir. Oh dear Sir.”
“What on earth is the trouble cook?”
“Its Sir Madam.”
“Yes, Cook I realise that.” Kathleen replied drily.
“He’s had a bit of bother. He says we mustn’t let anyone into the house. We mustn’t have a guest or anything Madam.”
“We weren’t expecting any one were we Cook?”
“No Madam. He just said we mustn’t allow anyone in. He will be here in a minute.”
“It all sounds very mysterious. Do you think it might have anything to do with the woman who is walking in through the conservatory at this very moment?”
With an ‘Oh Madam’ Cook hurriedly retreated to the safety of her kitchen. She did not think this was going to be a happy reunion.
“Kathleen.”
“Alicia.”
“I gather you have made this your home now.”
“Yes, I rather think I have.”
“And Arnold, he is happy with the arrangement?”
“Yes, I rather think he is.”
“And the children?”
“Very flexible, children.
They do what is easiest for them in the end.”
“Indeed.” Alicia did not sound like she was agreeing.
“I was so sorry to hear about the death of your husband.”
“Were you really?”
Another silence.
“The father of your son.”
An almost imperceptible hesitation before she answered “Why do you say that?”
“You know as well as I do that Carl is Arnold’s son. Why pretend?”
“Why indeed?” Kathleen hurried on “Why are you here? What do you want from us?”
“I thought you’d like to know that Arnold and I have been renewing our acquaintance in the sand dunes and he rather enjoyed it.”
Kathleen was determined to show no feeling or emotion either in her face or her voice. “Did you? Enjoy it I mean?” She was trying to wrest the initiative.
“Not as much as he did.” Alicia was happy for Kathleen to hear the emotions in her voice. There was triumph, success and power.
Another silence until Kathleen again tried to outplay Alicia “I repeat, what do you want from us?”
“Absolutely nothing, dear Kathleen, I want nothing from you. I just need to know how happy you are. I think Arnold answered that in the dunes, don’t you?” She continued without giving Kathleen a chance to think of an answer “I also wanted to know how the children were. I’ve been watching them playing in the garden – yes I’ve been here a while – it was noticeable how close Susannah and Carl are.”
“They are very good friends.” Not even Kathleen could keep the defensiveness out of her voice.
“But we both know, how dangerous that would be, don’t we?” Alicia had no chance to expand on this as Arnold interrupted them.
“What are you doing here? What trouble is she making?” Arnold strode towards the two women and deliberately stood next to Kathleen, his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her briefly on the cheek, making his allegiance clear. Kathleen purposefully turned towards him so their lips almost met. She was going to show Alicia that she was not going to be disturbed by her lies – for lies they must be. She had to believe that Arnold wouldn’t have touched Alicia.
“I gather you met earlier?”
“Yes, we had some details to sort out, we had tea at the Derby.”
“Tea, Arnold? I rather thought we had a little more than that!”
Arnold looked from Kathleen to Alicia, Alicia caught his look and arched her left eyebrow in a gesture that could mean nothing or absolutely everything.
“Yes, Kathleen,” Alicia turned her eyes towards Kathleen, “your, how do I put it, cousin? protector? – do you actually have a name for your relationship? We’ve been reviving old memories haven’t we, Arnold? I remember now very clearly at least one of the reasons I was so happy to leave, and at least one of the reasons I have been so happy to stay away.”
They stood there still, despite her sarcasm and her insinuations, arm in arm. They were presenting a united front against her. She hadn’t managed to disrupt Kathleen’s confidence, she had failed to drive a wedge between them – they went back too far, understood each other too well. Well, let them have each other. It was no skin off her nose.
Looking up to the stairs she noticed a small figure, Charles, who must be over-hearing this conversation.
Still angry with Charles after their telephone conversation and with Susannah for being so close to Carl, she did not care who she hurt.
“Look after your sons Arnold, one day you must tell them both who they really are. Leave Susannah to find out for herself.”
Charles knew what he had heard and retreated before his father could see him.
Even though he had to wait until his father and Kathleen had left the hall before he could run down the stairs Charles caught his mother up before she had gone more than a few yards down the road.
“Can I walk you to the station Mother. You will be leaving for Liverpool and the south.”
There was so much of his father in him.
“No Charles, I will not. I’ll be staying at the Derby. Apparently Max is away.”
“He’s not there. There’s only the housekeeper there and she won’t let you in.” He had reason to know, he had tried to stay there the previous night.
“Why pay for a hotel, why don’t you do what tramps do and sleep on the sand dunes?”
She knew what he meant. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” The sullenness of a soon-to-be-16-year-old made him sound nearer nine.
“I understand from all that that Carl is definitely my brother.”
“Half brother”
“Half brother then. I had wondered. But what did you mean about Susannah? Aren’t I allowed to find out anything more about the family?”
“I meant nothing, just a silly attempt at being clever. But yes, you should perhaps know a little more of the family skeletons.
“About Henry?”
“What about Henry?” she hoped Charles didn’t know too much. “He’s dead isn’t he?”
“Why did he bring up Carl? Why did he put up with his wife, you know …. with Dad?”
“You should ask them.”
“How can I?”
Alicia decided she should be more communicative. There was little point in being so mean – none of this was Charles’ fault.
“You have a point there I suppose. You’ll have to listen carefully. Henry was weak, Charles. He didn’t know what else to do at the time. He worked for your father as well as being his cousin. He had to do what your father said. Your father was a lot stronger than he was – in personality I mean. Henry had been very unhappy, his parents and a girl he was very fond of had been killed in an air-raid a few months before Kathleen appeared on the scene and people do very odd things when they’re unhappy. They do things that they probably wouldn’t do if they were content. You’ll understand when....”
“Don’t say I’ll understand when I’m older! That’s what they always say when I ask them anything about anything that matters.”
“What sort of things?”
“About you? Why did you leave us? Did you find out about her? You must have had a reason. You never said anything about anything important when we visited you. We knew you were only acting when you had us with you. That’s why we hated going away with you. Susannah hated being away from Carl and I.” He stopped before he could give too much of himself away.
“I think I always knew that neither of you wanted to be with me, even for a few days each year, I knew you had other things to do in your holidays. But I wasn’t just being selfish you know.”
“Weren’t you?”
“No. I wanted you to know that if anything ever went wrong in your lives, if ever you needed someone, I would always be there to pick up the pieces, if ever you needed me I wouldn’t be a complete stranger to you.”
“But you are.”
They walked on for a while, in silence.
“Perhaps I have been wrong in not explaining. I thought you and Susannah were fine, you were young, you were just babies really, not even children, you would grow up thinking that the things around you were normal. When I left to go to Switzerland I was ill, I left England because I would have died if I had stayed. People knew I had been ill and so it was a good reason to leave. I couldn’t divorce your father then. It’s a bit more normal now, but then it would have been a real stigma – and not just to the parents – you would have found things very difficult at school.”
“You left because you didn’t love us. I don’t believe all that rot about you being ill. I had a horrid time at school anyway.” He couldn’t explain all the pain to her, not now.
“I’m sorry about that. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“You never asked.” They walked on for a bit. “And you didn’t come back when you left Switzerland did you? Monika said that you would come back when you were better but you didn’t. It’s the only lie Monika has ever told me and you made her do it. Lots of things are bad. No
t just school. And now Daddy’s making Monika go. He’s sacked her. She’s got to go at the end of the week.”
He suddenly looked very young and vulnerable, as though he was going to burst into tears but she didn’t feel she knew him well enough to put her arms around him and give him the hug he obviously needed.
“Perhaps we need to talk a bit. You’re right, we never did when you came for those holidays – you wouldn’t speak to me other than to tell me what you and Susannah were going to do or had done or what the weather was like, you never wanted to talk about anything that was important.”
“You didn’t either.”
“Didn’t I? I should have done. I am sorry. Do you want to walk a little further tonight – not straight back to the hotel? We could talk a bit. I could tell you some things,” she corrected herself, “and listen to some things that you want to tell me.”
So they walked down to the promenade where she had been only a short time before. The tide had turned now and was racing out into the gathering dusk.
She began to explain.
“Charles, darling, I am a centre sort of person, and so is your father, and we clashed because of that. His way of life was not, and could not be, mine. We made each other very unhappy.”
“What about us? Didn’t you think about me and Susannah?”
“You will understand – no listen to me – you will understand more as you grow older, you will, as you fall in and out of love. Things are never simple between a man and a woman.”
“Yes they are. They should be. We are your children. It should be simple shouldn’t it? You live with us and look after us. You care about us. Your life is us. We are what matters to you. Our lives are what should matter to you. That’s what other families are like. The fathers go to work, the mothers look after the children, care for them when they are sick, talk to them when they are worried, play with them. That’s what proper mothers do.”
“Is that what your friends’ mothers do?”
“I haven’t got any friends.”
“Is that what Kathleen does?”
Charles looked down at his feet. He had seen how Kathleen was with Carl but he would never in a million years admit to being jealous. He didn’t want Kathleen for a mother but he had wanted, oh so desperately wanted, a real mother of his own.
The Last Dance Page 13