The Last Dance

by Carolyn McCrae

  She put a brave face on it but she looked dreadful. I knew she had not been well, and I knew that she had been in hospital a lot of the previous winter, but until I had met her at the station I had had no idea she was so fragile.

  “Drink?”

  She put her hand, the lines of bone and sinew clearly visible, across her glass in reply “Isn’t it odd how often we end up meeting at definitive moments in the life of the Donaldsons.” She was half smiling as she spoke.

  “Strange event this isn’t it?”

  “They seem happy.”

  I wondered at how many weddings that truism had been spoken when the exact opposite was more likely to be the case, and how frequently those happy weddings ended up on the rocks.

  “You never cared for her, did you?” I wasn’t sure whether it was a question I should ask.

  “No. Not really. I never wanted her. I didn’t look after her and I left Arnold when she was still a baby really. She was Nanny’s child more than mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t wanted to get pregnant deliberately so she could have a family that was truly hers.”

  I think, in that, she was probably right.

  “It’ll ruin her university career, still we’ll help him have a good future. He will do well if he puts his mind to it and is given a chance.”

  “How are they going to manage?”

  “Funnily enough, they are going to live at Sandhey for a time until they find somewhere suitable, then Monika will look after the baby and Susannah will go to University. Strange that isn’t it. Max with both your children under his wing.”

  “Not so strange Ted. He is a very nice man.”

  “We all thought he would remarry, you know, after Elizabeth died, but he didn’t. He came back and took up the reins exactly as before.”

  “Not quite exactly Ted.”

  She didn’t elaborate.

  “Anyway, it looks like it will all work out quite well, considering.”

  “Yes. Considering.”

  I topped her glass up though it didn’t really need it, she had hardly drunk a drop.

  She was looking into her glass as if the answers to all problems were there in the bubbles and she didn’t want to drink them because then the answers wouldn’t be there any more.

  We stood together on the veranda, looking back at the small gathering. Susannah was talking to her new mother-in-law, Marina Parry, who was trying very hard not to appear uncomfortable. The brothers and sisters were standing in a group together, not mixing at all. Well I hardly expected them to.

  “Have you spoken to Carl?” I had to ask.

  She seemed surprised “No. Why would I?”

  “Apparently he’s got the idea that Arnold might not be Susannah’s father.”

  She looked uncomfortable and tried to avoid an answer.

  “I don’t see anyone, I’ve been in hospital, it’s been a difficult year.”

  “He’s accepted that Arnold is his father so he hangs onto the idea that he might not be her’s.”

  She didn’t ask where he got the idea or dismiss the idea as laughable as I had thought she would. I persevered.

  “You have to let him know there’s no doubt about Susannah being his sister, then he can get on with his life.”

  “I can’t tell him that, Ted.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t lie to him again.”

  I thought I had misunderstood. “What do you mean?”

  “I lied”

  “What do you mean ‘I lied’?”

  “Arnold isn’t Susannah’s father. I lied. When Arnold called me that Sunday I wasn’t well, I was upset. I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He wanted everything to be all right. Why should it? Why should I let them all off the hook. Of course Arnold isn’t Susannah’s father, Henry is – was. Of course it was Henry. I suppose you would call it rape – what Henry did that night. It was only a few seconds. Not enough to start a life. But it did. No one wanted her. I didn’t. Arnold didn’t. Henry never knew. Arnold didn’t know. Of course they aren’t brother and sister.”

  I was silenced. So many thoughts, an unwelcome dislike for this woman I had loved for so long. In all the years I had known her this was the first time I couldn’t like her. I couldn’t believe what she had done and I could see no good reason for her vindictiveness.

  Did she know how much pain that lie had cost?

  “How could you? How could you lie when you knew how they felt?”

  “It wasn’t going to be, Ted. It just wasn’t going to be. I will not have my daughter, even one I wish wasn’t a daughter of mine, married to that man’s son. It’s very simple. I will not have it. I do not regret the lie – I will never regret the lie. I hesitate to say ‘over my dead body’ as that is likely to happen sooner rather than later, Ted – you know that – but I will not have it. My daughter is never going to marry his son. It was just not going to happen, and now it can’t.”

  Her deception had been deliberate. She was vindictive and that was all that mattered to her – her control over the children and their future. It mattered nothing to her that the children were making such messes of their lives – that things could have been so simple, that two young people could have been so happy. None of that mattered. She had to have her way.

  Perhaps she realised my feelings. She looked into the bubbles again. “Oh Ted, what webs we weave.”

  “I can’t believe you would lie about something around which your daughter’s happiness revolved so deeply. Why couldn’t you have told them the truth? They could have been together after all.”

  I was so disappointed in her, and in the unfairness of life.

  Joe had walked across the patio behind us and stood next to me. Neither Alicia nor I had known he was there.

  He was a very different young man from the first time he had been at this house. He was far more confident, his hair was clean and cut neatly, his skin clean though still browner than normal for the time of year, his teeth perfect, the bespoke suit not entirely hiding the strength in his arms. He would do well with the female clients. He did have something about him.

  But I could not like him.

  “I did wonder.”

  He was perfectly polite as he spoke. “Sue has told me all about her and Carl, and all about your very odd families. Please don’t look down on my family, Alicia, at least we know who our parents are. She still thinks she loves him, she’d leave me if she knew the truth. But even if she ever finds out, and I’m not going to tell her – yet – she will stay with me. Believe me, she will stay with me.”

  “Of course she will.” Perhaps it was Alicia and I that needed reassurance. It wasn’t insecurity in his voice, it was an almost threatening determination not to lose what he had achieved.

  He was a clever young man and now he knew more than he should. I had to believe that he wouldn’t misuse that knowledge but I didn’t have much confidence.

  He hadn’t said a word about making his wife and the child happy.

  The marriage lasted longer than many and certainly longer than those who knew Susannah and Joe had thought it would. The child, a girl they named Josie, was born on October 31st. Susannah had been able to put off starting at University until after the birth and had opted for Liverpool, to be close. She had given up any idea of Oxbridge and an academic career but she insisted on trying for a degree, not giving up all ambition and becoming the housewife Joe had wanted.

  Susannah had Monika to help most days, even though they had moved out of Sandhey to their own place, a detached house in one of the better roads of the district, heavily subsidised by loans from Charles and a mortgage arranged by the company.

  Joe was doing well. His days as a fisherman and wheeler-dealer were long gone. He took to working in an office, wearing suits, commuting by train as if he had not spent the first years of his life crammed with so many others into the ruin of a terraced house built on sand dunes, spending his time fishing and indulging in petty crime. He was rarely home dur
ing the week, and at the weekends he was playing golf in the winter or cricket in the summer, developing his contacts, establishing himself as the professional man. He was doing well in the business. Without any prompting he studied at nights for exams he had never had the chance to take before he had had to leave school. He had a good manner with clients, just enough of the ‘wide-boy’ to tease them – just enough of the servant to flatter them. He acted as a sort of investigator much of the time, checking out the veracity of what people said – he was very good at it.

  He was good, too, with his colleagues, having a drink in the pub after work he fitted in with the young men who had always known they would work in an office, have a house and family and do well. Some of them knew his background, but such was his skill and charm with people, that not one, as far as I know, ever threw it in his face.

  A son, Jack, was born just after Susannah graduated, 2 days before her 21st birthday, then, since another son, Al, followed under a year later, and since a third, Billy, followed the year after that it had to be assumed that they were happy together.

  After she graduated Susannah spent the time keeping house, shopping, looking after the children and supporting her ambitious husband. We all knew she could have been so much more, but she seemed to be content. The children were growing up secure and well behaved. They were a proper family – to all appearances the close family that Susannah had never had when she was growing up.

  I was a frequent visitor to the house and, as well as Sunday lunches with Charles, Monika and Max, I was always invited to birthdays and Christmases. I thought it was only because they felt sorry for me or to make up the numbers and in order for some continuity but it did, of course, help Joe’s career to appear to be close to his boss. I later found out it was Charles who always made sure I was invited because he had considered me to be his friend for years – since the days I had driven him to and from his boarding school. I believe he thought me some kind of independent negotiator in the ongoing battle that was his family. I didn’t mind, I had no family of my own and, since my mother’s death, had lived alone with no idea that it would ever be anything otherwise.

  I thought I knew the family rather better than they did themselves.

  On these Sunday lunches we would arrive for one o’clock and Joe would give us a drink, opening a bottle of wine well before it was fashionable to do so, while Susannah gave the finishing touches to the roast. There were times when we overheard things that perhaps we shouldn’t have done – Joe saying he wouldn’t have used that roasting dish – he preferred the glass one, she should have chopped the vegetables more finely, cooked them a little longer; she should have sharpened the knife a little better, strained rather more fat from the gravy; she should have given a smaller – or larger – helping, have crisped the potatoes rather more. They were all silly criticisms, but criticisms all the same. Susannah never seemed to respond though the endless negative comments must have rankled.

  Should we, who cared for Susannah, have spotted that things were not as they appeared to be?

  I was sure at the time that Joe and Susannah must have had their arguments – as must every married couple. I can see that it cannot have been easy all the time. But it did seem that, despite all the factors against it, it was a marriage that was working. In all the conversations we had over those years, I cannot recall anything that hinted that she wasn’t the devoted wife and mother she appeared to be. Always tired, and a little lonely perhaps, always striving for approval and to be considered perfect, but not unhappy.

  But what do we know who only see a relationship from the outside and I eventually discovered some of the realities behind the façade.

  Susannah later told me that she believed that Joe had deliberately kept her pregnant, year after year, to break down her spirit, to keep her tied to him and to ensure Charles and Max’s continued generosity.

  I had taken over Max’s trips to the London office when he retired in 1966 and so spent two or three days a week in the south. I had been in contact with Alicia and knew how very ill she was. She had talked about Charles, asking whether he was happy, what was his real relationship with Monika? She even hinted that perhaps his relationship with Max was not what it might seem. She never asked about Susannah for reasons I thought I understood.

  In December 1967 I went to Sandhey on some flimsy work pretext to talk to Max but what I really wanted to do was get answers to some of Alicia’s questions.

  “How long can this arrangement continue Max?” I eventually asked as we sat on either side of the fire in his study. He had been reading me an extract from Charles’ latest pamphlet, of which he was extremely proud. “Charles isn’t a young man anymore, you don’t need to protect him. Perhaps he wants a home, a family of his own.”

  “He has a home, here. This will always be his home.”

  “But what of marriage?”

  “He is not the marrying kind, Ted. He has talked to me you know, about these things and he has told me more than once that he would never marry or have children. He says the institution causes too much pain – a feeling you can understand in his circumstances.”

  “How long ago did you talk? Could he have changed his mind?”

  “Admittedly they were some time ago so, yes, he could have changed his mind, but I very much doubt it. He is not the sort of man who changes.”

  “But don’t you think we should get our information a little more up-to-date?” I knew I was over-stepping the mark, but it was something Alicia had asked me to investigate so I had to persevere.

  “Perhaps you’re right.” So, very reluctantly, he called Charles into his study.

  Charles was horrified at the conversation.

  “I will not marry. I will not have children. I will look after you and Monika for as long as you need me.” A thought seemed to occur to him “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Absolutely not, dear boy. Absolutely not. Ted, and I, felt we should – what was that phrase – ‘get our information a little more up-to-date’.”

  “It sounds like something’s happened to change things.”

  “What I have to have clear in my mind,” I tried to explain “is that you are not being held back from having your own home and family.”

  “Well I’m not. You should know us all better than to even ask that. I will never marry. Why would I want to? No, I’m not queer though I know there are people around who say I am. I am just not interested. I don’t mean to be rude but it makes me so angry – I’m surprised you should even think it. Is that all?”

  So that was that. Charles had left the room before I had a chance to apologise and I got a lecture from Max, not for the first time with regard to this family, about minding my own business.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was at Billy’s first birthday party, 4th July 1970, that Susannah told me she was pregnant again. By this time she had four young children all under the age of seven and she was still only 23 years old. I could not believe that this was what she wanted to do with her life. She was worth far more than this.

  I had been invited, as I always was, but this year I had really not meant to go.

  Monika was looking after the children and they were all watching Charles pretending to be a clown. Max had produced presents for all the children so none would feel left out just because it was Billy’s birthday – and he was far too young to understand what was going on.

  My mind was elsewhere. I had so much to think about that I didn’t enjoy watching the children as I usually did so I shepherded Susannah into the kitchen on the pretext of helping her do some clearing up “Have you heard from your mother?” I asked her with some trepidation. “Oh Yes, she sent the usual cheque. I’m not sure how far she thinks £5 is going to go these days – still – if it makes her happy. Funny, it was posted in Liverpool. Have you seen her?”

  I ignored the question – now was not the time to get into involved explanations so I simply answered that I was sure she meant well.

&
nbsp; Although she said “I’m sure she did.” I do not think the words would have convinced anyone.

  “She never wanted me did she?” I couldn’t see her face. She had her back to me, her hands in the washing up bowl. She stopped urgently trying to clean something and seemed to stare down into the soapy water.

  I was a bit surprised at the question. It did not seem to be the right time to discuss matters such as this. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because it’s becoming more and more important to me. I’ve got four children of my own now. I wish I could say I loved them all to distraction, but I’m not sure I do – and I just keep thinking of what my life would have been like without them. I keep thinking what I could be doing if they hadn’t come along.... if they weren’t here. Josie wasn’t a mistake. I suppose I needed something that was mine after...” she hesitated, pulled herself up as if to give herself courage to name him, and continued “after Carl. It wasn’t so much ‘lust’ as ‘need’. I have tried so often to work out why I got involved with Joe. I suppose it was because he wanted me, he seemed to need me, and that was nice. No one in the family seemed to – apart from Carl.” His name came easier this time. “Carl was the only one who seemed to like me. I never knew Mother – those hopeless holidays were a complete waste of time, Dad was always somewhere else, Joe seemed to like me as well as want me and, that seems to have been the reason. I never loved him, Joe I mean. And I’m not sure I ever loved Josie or the boys. It’s not loving them as I know I should that makes me think about Mother.”

  It had all come out in a rush. There was so much bottled up inside.

  “I’ve always been manipulated by Joe. I’m not the liberated woman in control of my life that I’ve imagined I am, everything I do is dictated by Joe. It has been since the moment he pulled me out from the water. I wish he’d bloody well let me drown!”

  What could I say? I really wasn’t the person she should be unburdening herself to. She needed a woman, her mother, not an old stick like me, but maybe that was how desperate she was, that she felt she had to unburden herself to me. Maybe I was all she had.