A Willing Victim

by Wilson, Laura

  ‘Georgian or Regency?’

  ‘Or early Victorian. Lovely, wasn’t it? Now it’s just a shell, and not a very safe one, according to Barbara. She said not to go in. Pretty much all of the land’s been sold to a farmer.’

  By the time they sat down to dinner, Stratton was beginning to enjoy himself. Later, in a bed dried and warmed by some stone hot-water bottles Diana had found in one of the cupboards, when she’d hugged him and said, ‘Isn’t this fun, Edward?’, he had to agree that it was – especially since he hadn’t thought about the investigation for two whole hours.

  It was odd, he thought, as they lay sharing a cigarette, that he’d never before thought of it as ‘fun’ with Diana. Not that he’d ever make a comparison between her and Jenny – at least not knowingly – but with Jenny it had always been fun, because it was easy and companionable and because, right from the start, he’d felt no heightened expectation from her, or any pressure for things not to go wrong, so they never had. That wasn’t, of course, to say that he didn’t care – he’d wanted to please her, all right, what man wouldn’t have? But it was just … easy. With Diana, things were more complicated. Even at forty, her body was lovely. Stratton’s feeling, the first time he saw her naked, had been one of awe – something uncomfortably akin to worship. This, he knew, wasn’t just a physical thing. Another woman – pretty well any other woman, if you discounted film stars or royalty – could have had a body equally gorgeous, and it wouldn’t have had the same effect. This feeling had, mercifully, subsided, but he was still taken aback by how at ease she seemed with no clothes on, and how, well … active… she was in bed. Not that that hadn’t been a delightful surprise as well, but once he’d got over it he’d started to wonder who it was who’d taught her all those things. As it couldn’t – surely? – have been either of her husbands, this didn’t take too long, because the only possible candidate he knew of was Claude Ventriss. He knew it was stupid to be jealous – after all, given that Diana was several leagues ahead of him in every imaginable way it was a miracle he was there at all – but he still was. Images of the two of them together, which were quite capable of encroaching at just the wrong moment, filled him with a rage that, although he knew it to be irrational, still managed to grip him like a vice.

  At least, he thought, Diana never came out with any excruciating romantic stuff. In fact, the only time he’d ever said something along those lines – largely because he felt it was expected of him – she’d put a hand over his mouth and seen to it that, for the next few minutes at least, he couldn’t do anything more than gasp.

  Diana nudged him. ‘Penny for them.’

  ‘Ohh … nothing much.’ Stratton rolled over to look at her, propping himself up on his elbow. ‘Nothing intelligent, anyway.’

  Diana put the cigarette out and turned so that she was lying on her stomach, head cupped in her palms, and looked at him in a way which made it clear that he was expected to elaborate. Not being able to tell her what had actually been going through his mind – not a can of worms that could be opened in front of anybody, least of all her – he said, ‘You know what I was saying when we were eating, about going to that Foundation place?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, it was all a bit odd.’

  ‘So I gathered.’

  ‘But the oddest thing was the first time, just when I was leaving. The boy I told you about—’

  ‘You mean Michael the Mighty-whatever-it-was?’

  ‘Yes, him. We hadn’t been introduced or anything – I mean, I don’t think he had a clue who I was – but he suddenly told me that I was carrying a burden of guilt and that if I shed the burden, then I’d be happy. He was right, but I don’t see how he could know that.’

  ‘He probably didn’t,’ said Diana. ‘But you could say that about practically anyone, couldn’t you? Everyone’s got something they feel guilty about, haven’t they, even if it’s not a particularly bad thing. Heavens, you should know that.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You must see it all the time at work.’

  ‘Yes, but just to come out with it like that …’

  ‘He’s only a child, Edward. He probably didn’t know what he was saying.’

  ‘That’s not the impression I got. And I do feel guilty. About lots of things.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, Jenny for one. I mean, I know that’s in the past, and there’s nothing I can do about it now, but all the same … And not being closer to Pete and Monica …’

  ‘But you are close to Monica, aren’t you? I’ve always thought that you and she – especially after that business …’

  ‘Raymond Benson, you mean? Losing the baby?’

  ‘Yes. I wondered if you’d been brooding about it when we were talking about her last week.’

  ‘I can’t really help it, Diana. I know she loves her work, but she ought to be … you know, settling down. Thinking about getting married, a family. Or at least seeing someone, and there’s never … not that I’d expect her to tell me about it, or at least not straight away, but she’s never mentioned boyfriends or chaps at work or anything like that. I can’t believe it’s for lack of offers. I know I’m biased, but she is a nice-looking girl and all the rest of it. I’m worried that the whole experience might have put her off men for life.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Of course I am! What parent wouldn’t be?’

  ‘I suppose they would,’ said Diana, stiffly. ‘I don’t really have any experience of things like that.’

  ‘It’s not a criticism,’ said Stratton, hastily. ‘I’m sorry, I always thought … Well, I suppose I assumed, that you didn’t really want children. You once said – about that – that you’d lost a baby – more than one – but that you got over it, and I just thought … well … Oh, dear. I’m sorry, I’m being insensitive. Look, let’s forget about it.’

  Diana wriggled round and sat propped up against the pillows, shivering and pulling the covers up to her chin. She seemed, thought Stratton, somehow far more human than she had several minutes ago, when he was still in the afterglow of desire. ‘No, don’t let’s,’ she said. ‘Or rather, let’s forget about me because you’re right, I never really have wanted children, but one does – or tried to do, in my case – what’s expected … But hasn’t it occurred to you that Monica might not want children, either?’

  Stratton sat up, too. ‘But that’s not—’

  ‘Not what?’ said Diana. ‘Not normal? People seem to make a hell of a lot of assumptions about what’s normal, don’t they? Especially where women are concerned. They think, if you don’t want to be married and have children, you’re unfeminine or sexless by nature and you won’t find any fulfilment in life.’

  Taken aback by the fierceness of her tone, Stratton said, ‘Well, it is normal.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Diana, ‘I’m abnormal, and so is Monica. And, by your reckoning, she’s a lot more abnormal than I am.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I’m here in bed with you, aren’t I?’

  Stratton stared at her, bewildered. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘You’re a man.’

  Stratton’s stomach lurched. Blood pounding in his ears, he said, ‘What are you saying, exactly?’

  ‘Oh, Edward … Look. What I’m saying,’ she said, gently, ‘and I’m sorry I said it like that, is that Monica – yes, your daughter – prefers women to men.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Stratton’s sensation, as she spoke these last words, was that the air around him had suddenly bunched and become solid, so that he couldn’t breathe. He felt distanced from everything, suspended with no past and no future, only this moment and Diana’s words reverberating around the small bedroom, ricocheting off the wallpaper with its faded sprigs of pink flowers, the china basin and ewer on the chest of drawers and the brass bedstead as if they were trying to escape.

  ‘Edward? Are you all right?’ Diana put a hand on his arm and everything started to move a
nd happen again.

  Making a conscious effort to draw breath, Stratton said, ‘No, of course I’m not all right. What the hell made you say a thing like that?’

  ‘Because it’s true. The girl Monica lives with, Marion – they love each other.’

  ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘I’ve seen them together.’

  ‘What, holding hands? Kissing?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then how—’

  ‘It was obvious. Oh, they’re very discreet, and Marion doesn’t come to the studio very often, but it’s the way they are with each other – the way they look at each other. You can tell.’

  ‘Rubbish! You’re imagining things. In any case, that sort of thing may be all very well for a bunch of actors and arty types, but not … not …’

  ‘Not people like you and your family?’ suggested Diana.

  ‘Yes! Well, not exactly …’ Stratton shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What he’d been about to say was nonsense. God Almighty, there were several policewomen at West End Central who were clearly … But they weren’t his daughter, for Christ’s sake. Which was nonsense, too, of course, but knowing that didn’t make it any better. ‘It was that bloody Benson, wasn’t it? He’s put her off men. But when she meets the right one, she’ll—’

  ‘She has met the right one, Edward. And the right one, in her case, happens to be a woman.’

  ‘No. No! It isn’t true. It can’t be.’ In an effort to keep calm, Stratton tried to light a cigarette, but succeeded only in spilling matches all over the eiderdown.

  Diana took the cigarette from him and lit it. ‘There you are.’

  ‘But it can’t be right. If she’s always been so keen on women, why would she want anything to do with Benson in the first place? And she’d had boyfriends before …’

  ‘Had she?’ Diana looked up from picking up the matches. ‘How many?’

  ‘Well …’ The truth was, not many at all. In fact, Stratton could only think of one, and that hadn’t lasted long. He thought of Pete’s words – Christmas, 1950 – he remembered that all right because it was just before Davies’ trial: “You want to get yourself a boyfriend, Monica – or perhaps you don’t.” He’d thought, at the time, that Pete was just being Pete, needling people, but perhaps his son had spotted something he’d failed – or perhaps refused – to see … ‘Anyway,’ he finished, ‘it still makes no sense that she would go with Benson, if—’

  ‘Yes, Edward, it does. She was trying to convince herself that she was, as you would put it, normal.’

  ‘How the hell can you possibly know that?’

  ‘Because Monica told me.’ The finality with which Diana said this removed Stratton’s last shred of hope. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered, Edward? It’s not as if you’re narrow-minded, and you come across everything in your work—’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t expect to come across it in my own family!’ As he spoke, his nephew Johnny, Reg’s son who’d only narrowly avoided Borstal, flashed through his mind.

  ‘Why not? Aren’t your family like other people?’

  ‘Of course they are. It’s just … How long have you been having these cosy little chats with Monica, anyway?’

  ‘It’s not as if we’re in league against you, Edward. We bump into each other sometimes at work, and …’ Diana shrugged. ‘You know how it is. You get on better with some of your colleagues than others, and you chat to them …’

  ‘Yes, but about work, not about things like that.’

  Diana put her head on one side. ‘No, I suppose you don’t, being a man. But Monica and I became friendly because of you, really. And she wasn’t the one who raised the subject of Marion. I did. It was after Marion had come to the studio one day, and I saw them together and wondered …’

  Realising that this was exactly what Pete had told him Monica had said about himself and Diana, Stratton said, ‘Did you tell her about the two of us?’

  ‘She asked me, so I said that yes, you and I were friends. That was one of the reasons I felt I could ask about Marion.’

  ‘And Monica told you she was in love with her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you think it’s real? Not some sort of late-adolescent crush or … I don’t know … arrested development or whatever doctors call it? Because I’m sure this wouldn’t have happened if Jenny was still alive, if … Oh, Christ.’ Stratton put his head in his hands. ‘It’s my fault, isn’t it? I’ve been so stupid. I thought she could look after herself – she was always so sensible – and then after that awful business with that shit Benson … Sorry, Diana. But all of this is my fault.’

  ‘No, Edward.’ Diana grabbed his arm and shook it. ‘You’re wrong. None of it is your fault. Look at me. Please, Edward. Please …’ Kneeling up, she put her arms around him. ‘Listen to me. Monica is the way she is because that’s the way she was meant to be and nothing you did or didn’t do would have made the slightest bit of difference. She didn’t want me to tell you. In fact, she asked me not to – she said that if you knew, you’d never want to speak to her again. She thinks she’s failed you.’

  Pulling away from her, Stratton said, ‘Of course she hasn’t bloody failed me! I’ve told you, it’s the other way round. What the hell am I supposed to say to her now?’

  ‘How about that you love her? You do, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘There you are, then.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Diana, and you know it. People like that have terrible lives. They get laughed at, shunned … They’re unhappy. They end up committing suicide. We see it all the time.’

  ‘You see the tragedies. You don’t see the happy ones who’ve found somebody they love and who loves them, do you?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘As I said, there you are. And I didn’t tell you this to be spiteful or catty or anything like that, but because I thought you should know. I’ve thought so for some time.’

  ‘Monica obviously didn’t.’

  ‘No, but she wouldn’t, would she? But when I told you, a lot of things fell into place, didn’t they?’ Diana held up a hand. ‘Don’t deny it, because I could see they did. Would you rather I hadn’t told you? Because you’d have been bound to cotton on at some stage, although I suppose you could have pretended it wasn’t true and kept on telling yourself she just hadn’t met the right sort of chap. But then it would have been a lot of lies, wouldn’t it, between the two of you?’

  Stratton rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Yes, it would. And I don’t want that. But it doesn’t stop me from …’ Finding himself unable to express what it didn’t stop him from, and, for that matter, what it had started him on, and caught up in a tornado of conflicting emotions, some of which he couldn’t even put a name to, Stratton gave up on speech. Had Monica had eyes for Diana, too? Was that what had prompted her confession? Fighting to contain a sudden up-rush of sickness, he carried on rubbing his eyes until his head hurt and all he could see was a blizzard of black spots.

  Diana rubbed his back. ‘I’m sorry, Edward.’

  ‘Sorry you told me,’ he mumbled, ‘or sorry about Monica?’

  ‘I’m not sorry I told you. I’m sorry about how I said it – I was a bit stung by the not-being-a-parent business, I suppose. And I’m not sorry for Monica, because she’s happy.’

  ‘So,’ said Stratton irritably, taking his hands away from his face, ‘what – or who – are you sorry for?’

  ‘You. That you’ve taken it so badly.’

  ‘How the hell am I supposed to take it?’ asked Stratton bitterly. ‘As a cause for celebration?’

  ‘No, but it’s not the end of the world, either.’

  ‘Possibly not, but it’s not what you’d call good news, is it?’

  Diana sighed. ‘OK. Look, I spotted some brandy in the cupboard downstairs, and I think you could do with it. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  ‘You know,’ she said, sitting on the bed with her
arms round her knees and watching him drink, ‘during the war, and then after, with all that business with Forbes-James and Claude, and then leaving Guy and marrying James and him leaving me, and everything else that happened, it slowly began to occur to me – sort of piece by piece – that a lot of the ideas and values I’d grown up with, what I thought was right and the only way one should do things, was actually wrong – or at least not the only way of looking at the world. When I look back now, I see how impossibly naive I was, how unquestioning … I learnt that the hard way. You helped me learn some of it, but a lot of it I learnt from my own mistakes. I’m not the same person I was fifteen years ago, and I’m glad of it. You’re not, either, and the world’s changed, too. I know that all sounds pat, but it’s true – and I think it’s important to recognise it because things are going to change more before we’re in our dotage. A lot more.’

  ‘They’re bound to,’ said Stratton, wondering what she was getting at, ‘that is, assuming the Americans and the Soviets haven’t blown us up before we get to our dotage.’

  Diana made an impatient gesture. ‘I mean, Edward, look at the two of us, here. We both know that I’m not ever going to be Mrs Stratton. We – I mean, in the sense of you and I, together – are living on borrowed time.’

  ‘Is this something else you’re trying to tell me?’ asked Stratton, wearily. ‘I know I’m not good enough for you, and if you’ve met someone else you’ve only to say—’

  ‘Stop! In the first place, you’re the best person I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Doesn’t say much for the rest,’ Stratton muttered.

  ‘Don’t be silly. In fact, just shut up for a moment and listen. In the second place, don’t be so ridiculous, there isn’t anyone else, and thirdly, all I was going to say was that we might as well enjoy it while it lasts because – as you’ve just pointed out – none of us has any idea what’s coming round the corner. After all, that’s why – or partly why – all those people at your strange Foundation place are looking for a different way of life, isn’t it?’