by Teresa Crane
Adam sat down opposite her, his expression for a moment obscured by a wreath of smoke. ‘I think I’m going to have to tell you something, Ma,’ he said.
*
For a long time after he stopped speaking his mother sat in silence, her face buried in her hands. He watched her uneasily. ‘Ma? For Christ’s sake, at least say something.’
She lifted her head, shook it. Her expression was bleak. ‘I don’t know what to say. Apart from “How could you be so stupid?” and “How dare Leon use you in this way?” and other such totally unhelpful things.’ She left the table and went to the stove to put the kettle on. Adam reached for his cigarettes. ‘You smoke too much,’ she said. ‘I don’t think it can be good for you.’
‘Ma!’
She spun on him. ‘Adam, I’m sorry! I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do! You’ll just have to leave me to think —’
He stared at her in growing disbelief. ‘Think?’ he echoed. ‘What’s there to think about?’
‘Me,’ she said, quietly. ‘There’s me to think about, Adam. Had that not occurred to you?’
‘Look — Ma —’ He came to her, caught her urgently by the shoulders. ‘Just go along with it for a while. Come back with me. Help me get these gorillas off my back. I’ll pay Leon back, I swear I will. Then you can do as you like —’
‘Adam, I am already doing as I like. Why should I allow Leon to blackmail me through you? For, make no mistake, that’s what he’s doing.’
‘It’s only because he loves you. Because he wants you with him. What’s so wrong with that? For God’s sake — I’ve told you before — you’re married to the man.’
‘I’m well aware of that.’ The words were very cool.
He struggled to contain his rising panic. Above all things he must not antagonise her further. ‘Please, Ma,’ he said.
Cathy took a long breath. ‘I’ll write to him,’ she said. ‘Tonight. You can take it back with you tomorrow.’
‘I don’t think that will do any good.’
‘At least let me try. He’s got to be shown he can’t just order everybody’s lives as he thinks fit.’
Adam shook his head in despair. ‘You don’t know him, do you?’
She held his eyes, thoughtfully. ‘I’m coming to believe not.’
*
Cathy sat at the table later that night, after Adam had gone upstairs to bed, staring into space, a blank piece of notepaper in front of her. She had spoiled the boy. She knew it. In the shocked and guilt—ridden aftermath of his father’s death she had indulged and overprotected him. She had seen the incredulity and anger in his eyes that his squalid story had not made her cave in to his demands without question. He was nearly twenty-five years old. Surely it was time he grew up? Surely it was time he began to take responsibility for his own actions?
You’re fooling yourself, said a cold, clear voice in her head. You know it. Lying to the world is one thing. Lying to yourself is the worst of folly.
Her mouth set in a miserably stubborn line, she reached for a pen.
Upstairs, Adam prowled the small bedroom like a restless cat. A letter? What the hell good was that going to do? And what the devil had got into his mother lately? ‘What a bloody mess!’ He took off his jacket, hung it in the small wardrobe, rummaged on a shelf for his pyjamas. How much time did he have? A week? Less?
With a small clatter something fell from the shelf and skittered across the floorboards where it lay glinting in the firelight. He bent to pick it up, recognising it immediately. Nikos must have lost it the last time he was down. He picked up the cuff link, slipped it in his pocket and went back to his worrying.
*
The following day Adam’s every misgiving was confirmed. Leon read the letter in silence, tossed it on to his desk, steepled his fingers and regarded the younger man impassively over them. ‘Not good enough, Adam. I told you. I want her here. And soon. I’m planning a trip to the Greek house in a week or so. I want her with me.’
‘Then why don’t you ask her? Why don’t you go to see her?’
The other man’s face darkened. ‘I have better things to do,’ he said, very quietly. ‘This time, she comes to me. And this time she stays. I have had enough. We have a bargain, Adam, you and I. If you want the rest of the money you need then your mother comes to me!’ Adam jumped as a massive hand came suddenly down on the desk. ‘Go back to her. Tell her. I want her here.’
Adam’s shoulders slumped. ‘Leon, she won’t come.’
His stepfather leaned forward. ‘Try again, Adam. Try again.’
Adam spread helpless hands. ‘OK. I’ll try. But I can’t go until the end of the week. I’m due down in Bristol for the meeting with Biggs tomorrow – with Nikos still away I’ll have to go — I’ll be back in London by Thursday at the latest. I’ll drive down to Suffolk on Friday. But —’
‘No “buts”, Adam.’ Leon reached for a heavy folder, opened it and began to leaf through it. ‘No “buts”. Do it. Ask the good Miss Hooper to come in on your way out, eh?’
*
Friday was a day for lovers; bright, springlike and beautiful. Even preoccupied as he was, Adam could not help but see it. Hedge and tree were cloaked in misty green as the tender new leaves opened to the sun. In the cottage gardens bright crocuses bloomed and celandines glinted in the roadside ditches. As the turning for Sandlings came up he slowed down, reached into his pocket for his cigarette case and flicked it open, one-handed. As he had thought, supplies were very low; given the likely nature of the coming clash with his mother the thought of running out was not a happy one. He picked up speed again and drove past the lane and on to the village shop.
Half an hour later, slowly and with a thoughtful frown on his face, he was driving up the narrow lane towards the cottage. In all of his life, at least as far as he could be certain, he had never known his mother to lie. So why had she lied about this? About something so silly? So unnecessary? And why had Nikos lied with her? For he did not doubt that they had; the old bag in the shop might be a nosy old gossip, but he could see no reason on this occasion for her to be telling anything but the truth. As she had pointed out herself the weekend of the storm was etched firmly in every detail on everyone’s memory. In a conversation that had started as a casual exchange of pleasantries she had at first mentioned — and then, when questioned, firmly insisted — that Nikos had arrived on the Friday afternoon, not the Saturday night as Cathy and Nikos had said. And even as he had questioned her he had suddenly remembered the one—sided conversation with Becket, the coastguard, in the Lion and Lamb the other day. Hadn’t he said that he had first seen Cathy ‘and the young man too’ — early on Saturday afternoon? So Nikos had been there for the whole weekend. And they had lied about it. Why?
He negotiated a bend, then slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and brought out the gold cuff link he had found in the bedroom. There was something odd about this, too. It wasn’t until he had found it in his trouser pocket on the night he had gone back to town that he had suddenly been certain that he had seen Nikos wearing these links just the week before. He always noticed them, since they were so much like his own, given by Leon at New Year, and, thinking about it, he was ready to swear that Nikos had been wearing them on the evening that he and Adam had escorted the dreadful American Lois to the theatre. If that were so, how had it come to be at Sandlings?
He had come to the track that led to the cottage. He turned off the engine, rolled quietly to a halt. Folded his arms on the steering wheel and laid his chin on them, looking pensively through the windscreen; at the battered bike that his mother so ridiculously insisted on riding, and at the dusty black Austin Princess parked beside it. After a moment he got out of the car. The air was still, and riven with birdsong. The sound of the sea sifted in the background.
He closed the car door very quietly.
Nikos was sitting at the kitchen table watching Cathy as she prepared lunch. She glanced at him, and smiled to catch his eyes on her
. ‘I do love you,’ he said.
She stood the heavy saucepan on the hotplate, came to him, slipped her arms about his neck and laid her cheek on his hair. ‘And I you.’ She laughed a little. ‘Though I still think it’s naughty of you to have turned up again so soon.’
‘I couldn’t stay away. You aren’t angry with me?’
‘Of course not.’ She turned his head gently towards her and kissed him on the mouth. ‘How could I be?’
Sandy dozed, twitching, by the stove. Suddenly he lifted his small head, the beginnings of a growl in his throat.
‘Poor Sandy’s chasing dream-rabbits,’ Cathy said.
Nikos put his hand up to hold her, to stop her moving away from him, drew her mouth back on to his. Neither of them heard the door swing very quietly open.
‘Well,’ Adam said, softly, one shoulder propped against the door jamb. ‘There’s a cosy little scene.’
There was a moment of total silence. Adam’s eyes flickered to Nikos. ‘Get out,’ he said, his voice calm, his face very white.
‘No,’ Nikos said.
Cathy, her eyes on her son, put her hand on Nikos’ shoulder. ‘Nikos. Do as he says. Please.’
‘No,’ Nikos said again, flatly.
‘I want to speak to my mother. Alone.’
Nikos did not move. Beneath her hand Cathy could feel his shoulder tense as a steel spring. ‘Come in, Adam,’ she said. ‘Shut the door.’
Adam closed the door and leaned against it, his eyes flicking from one to the other. ‘No excuses?’ he asked, quietly. ‘No protestations of innocence?’
‘No.’ It was Nikos who answered. He stood up, moving between Cathy and her son. ‘There’s nothing to excuse. I’m glad you’ve come. Glad you know. At least it’s out in the open. I love Cathy. And I’m not ashamed of it.’
‘How touching.’ Adam, still lounging against the door, folded his arms. ‘Not ashamed of it you say?’ he mused. ‘I wonder — what exactly is the definition of incest? Do you know?’ He looked directly at his mother, watching her flinch.
Cathy moved around Nikos, put out a hand to touch her son’s arm. ‘Adam — I’m sorry — I know this must be very difficult for you —’
Adam pushed himself fiercely away from the door, striking her hand down as he did so. Nikos took a sharp step forward. ‘Difficult? Difficult? I should think that rates as the understatement of the year, don’t you? Ma, how could you? How could you?’
‘I love him.’
Adam stared at her, his face that had been as pale as death suddenly suffused. ‘You’re pathetic,’ he said. ‘The pair of you. Pathetic!’ To Cathy’s horror the blue eyes were suddenly bright with tears.
‘Adam — please —’ Once again she attempted to touch him. Once again he pushed her angrily away, and this time she stumbled a little.
‘Don’t do that, Adam.’ Nikos‘ voice was hard. ‘Don’t touch her again.’
‘You bugger off, you little bastard.’
‘Adam!’
He spun on her. ‘Get packed. Now. You’re coming to London with me.’
She eyed him steadily, fighting for calm, trying not to let the panic that was beating like a pulse in her throat sound in her voice. ‘And if I don’t?’
‘You will. You have absolutely no choice in the matter. And you know it. Because if you don’t I shall simply have to go back alone. And when Leon hears that you refused to come — and why you refused - I should think there’s a fair chance that he’ll kill you. Both of you. And by Christ I’d give him the gun or the blade to do it.’
Nikos started forward. Cathy put out a restraining hand. ‘So — if I do come, then what?’
‘Not just come. Stay. If you agree to do as Leon wants. And if you promise me never — never! — to get near this disgusting little creep again then I’ll keep your sordid little secret. But I warn you - if I ever catch the two of you so much as looking at each other again then I’ll tell Leon what I know.’
‘Supposing we denied it? It would be your word against ours. What makes you think Leon would believe you?’
‘I wouldn’t deny it,’ Nikos said, very quietly. ‘I couldn’t.’
Adam watched his mother, his face hard. ‘Are you willing to take the chance? What do you think your husband —’ he emphasised the word bitterly ‘— would do to him —’ he jerked his head contemptuously towards Nikos ‘— if he so much as suspected that he’d touched you? And supposing I could prove that he spent the whole weekend of the storm with you and you both lied about it? Supposing I showed him this —’ he put his hand in his pocket and produced the gold cuff link ‘— and told him where I found it? Do you know where I found it? I found it upstairs. In my bedroom.’ The words were so savage that Cathy physically flinched from them. ‘Oh, no, Ma. I think it would be just a little more than my word against yours. Get packed.’
‘Cathy, no.’ Nikos turned to her, caught her by the shoulders. ‘Listen. I won’t let you go. I won’t. Come with me. I love you. You know it. Come away with me —’
‘Get away from her, you conniving little bastard —’
‘Please, Cathy —’
‘I said get away from her!’ Adam caught Nikos by the shoulder and threw him against the table.
‘Adam — stop it! Nikos!’ Cathy flung herself between them. The two young men stood glaring at each other, breathing heavily.
‘Get packed, Ma,’ Adam said.
‘He’s blackmailing you.’ Nikos’ face was drawn as if with pain. ‘Are you going to let him?’
‘You bet she is.’ Very slowly Adam turned his head to look at his mother. ‘Don’t think that now I don’t see why you wouldn’t help me. All that highfaluting talk of independence. What a joke. When all you really wanted was to shack up with him. And for that you were ready to drop me in the shit.’
‘No.’ Cathy closed her eyes and shook her head.
‘Don’t fool yourself. Look at yourself straight. And tell me that what you see doesn’t disgust you.’
‘No!’ The word was agonised.
‘Cathy — darling —’
‘Will you get the hell out of here!’ The sheer, unadulterated violence in the words froze them all. Adam was shaking. ‘Leave my mother alone, you snivelling little sod!’
Helpless tears had begun to stream down Cathy’s cheeks. She took both Nikos’ hands in her own. ‘Nikos, please go. Adam’s right. It’s over. It was always going to happen, we both knew it —’
‘No!’
‘Please, Nikos — you’re just making things worse —’
‘Tell me one thing.’
She waited, watching him with drenched eyes.
‘Do you love me?’
‘You know I do.’
‘Out!’ Adam, by far the stronger built of the two, grabbed Nikos by the coat collar and hauled him towards the door. Nikos’ flailing fist caught him a glancing blow on the cheekbone. Adam swung round and slapped him, open-handed, twice, across the face, rocking his head.
‘Adam! Stop it!’
The two struggled for a moment, crashing back against the table. Sandy danced and yelped excitedly about them. They drew apart, panting.
‘Nikos, please.’ Appalled, Cathy was truly sobbing now. ‘You have to go. Adam’s right, you know he is. Your father would kill you if he knew. We have to finish it.’
He turned to her. His mouth was bruised, a narrow trickle of blood seeped down his chin. ‘My father kills me if I stay with you. You kill me if you make me leave you,’ he said. ‘Don’t do it, Cathy. Please don’t.’
Cathy said nothing. Adam stood watching them both, his face grim as death.
Nikos studied Cathy’s face for a long moment. Then, ‘I see,’ he said. ‘All right. If that’s what you want I’ll go. For you. Only for you. Remember that. Remember it always.’ He picked up his coat, slung it over his shoulder. Cathy watched, mute with misery as he opened the door. He left without looking back.
‘Get some things together,’ Adam said. ‘We’
re leaving too.’
‘I’ll have to take Sandy next door.’
‘I’ll do it. Just get yourself bloody packed, will you?’ Adam lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. In the distance they both heard the sound of the Austin’s engine starting. Cathy shut her eyes for a moment, then turned abruptly and left the room. Adam dropped into a chair, rested his elbows on the table. To his own surprise he was fighting tears; yet beneath the anger and the real sense of betrayal the spark of self-interest still glowed bright. He was safe. Leon would have to give him the money now.
Upstairs, numb with anguish, shock and humiliation Cathy packed her bag to go to London.
Chapter Fourteen
‘You’re losing weight, koukla mou. Too much weight. It doesn’t suit you.’ Leon eyed Cathy over the top of his newspaper. ‘We must feed you up.’
Cathy sipped her coffee. ‘I’m all right. I just don’t get so hungry in town, that’s all.’
Leon folded his newspaper, noisily and untidily, and tossed it on to the table. ‘Kati, no one ever suggested you couldn’t go back to the country occasionally. Why don’t you pop down to Suffolk for a couple of days?’
‘No.’ She spoke very quickly. ‘No. I don’t want to. The break is made. It’s been a month. It would unsettle me to go back. As a matter of fact I’m thinking of letting Sandlings. If I can find anyone mad enough to want to live there, that is.’
‘And Sandy? What of him? Will you bring him to London?’
She reached for the paper and folded it meticulously, smoothing the pages, not looking at him. ‘No. There’s no point. It wouldn’t be fair. He’d be desperately unhappy. And if we’re going to spend a lot of time in Greece I couldn’t take him anyway. I’ve written to Bert. He’s agreed to keep him. So —’ she looked up at him and smiled, very brightly ‘— that’s that. You’re stuck with me for good.’