Soon

by Charlotte Grimshaw

  She blew her nose. Her face was flushed and her hair was all on end. He thought of the care she’d taken that morning getting dressed. He’d been bored by her going on about some new outfit; now she seemed only innocent and harmless, and humiliated. The new shirt was crumpled on the floor.

  He lay down beside her. ‘Don’t even think about it, darling. You’re right; he wouldn’t dare let Roza hear that. She’d despise him. Whispering and bitchiness, and about clothes of all things; it’s so petty, it’s beneath contempt.’

  He stroked her shoulder. ‘I suppose he’s got some idea of divide and rule, among the ladies. Just ignore him. He’s tried to hurt you, so don’t let him see he’s succeeded.’

  ‘But I was so disconcerted, I rushed off. I think the others wondered why I’d gone and were a bit disapproving, as if I’d been rude to Sharon.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have even noticed.’

  ‘It’s weird to be insulted out of the blue by someone who’s supposed to be a friend . . . by a man . . . and so personally insulted. I know I’m not beautiful and slim and fashionable like Sharon and Roza but I try . . . And I’d been enjoying myself. And I’d thought my clothes looked all right and then I felt like a fool . . .’

  He lay beside her and said soothing things. He supposed the Police Minister played dirty in every sphere, out of habit, but still, it was a warning not to be too relaxed at Rotokauri. He thought how frank he’d just been with Roza.

  The TV at the end of the bed was on without sound, a shot of Julian Assange in front of a crowd, reading a statement about WikiLeaks. The ticker at the bottom of the screen announced record low temperatures and blizzards in the United States, travellers stranded, six thousand flights cancelled. A snow scene. Above it, the window was a rectangle of cloudless blue summer sky.

  Karen sat up, clenching her fists. ‘So now I know he doesn’t like me. What if he tries to damage my friendship with Roza?’

  ‘He can’t.’

  ‘I have to be friends with Roza. If we fell out, she might take Elke away.’

  He said, ‘But I thought—’ He stopped himself and didn’t say what he’d always assumed: that Roza had cynically befriended innocent Karen in order to keep Elke close.

  ‘You thought what?’

  ‘Nothing. Just that Elke’s pretty much grown up these days, and she adores you. No one can take her away from you.’

  Karen lay back down.

  ‘Everything’s all right,’ he said. ‘Roza and Juliet love you. Roza would have no idea you worry about Elke; she’s just pleased we’re all friends. Enjoy the rest of the holiday. We’ll be back in town soon, and then you won’t see Ed.’

  She sighed. ‘I do love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’ He put his arms around her. ‘Now, I’m feeling very knackered, and pissed from Trent’s gins, and we’ll have to sit across the table from Ed and act nice.’

  ‘Oh God. What am I going to wear?’

  ‘Wear the shirt! You look lovely in it.’

  ‘Shall I? Do you know, I think I will. I mean, he’s no oil painting himself, is he?’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  She said, ‘Claire’s gone back to the city — she’s got a party to go to. She managed not to offend anyone, thank God.’

  ‘Ah, they can stand a bit of offending.’

  ‘I dread the thought of her having a go at David. He hasn’t forgiven her for that spiel about “third-world diseases”. Although I don’t think she got far; he just fixed her with his death stare. Anyway, she left this. We’ve been trying it out.’ She showed him a sheet of paper.

  ‘A Kessler score. Why’d she give you that?’

  ‘I suppose they’re looking at them at med school. I think she wanted to prove I’m insane. She’s always telling me I am. Anyway, I did the questionnaire and guess what? Not a hint of mental illness. Not a speck of anxiety. Totally normal.’

  ‘I’m not really surprised, darling.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No. You’re as solid as a rock.’

  ‘Claire was disappointed. Anyway, let’s try it on you.’

  ‘No, let’s not.’

  But she insisted, following him around with the questionnaire while he showered and got changed and he answered the questions, too tired and distracted to be untruthful.

  She added up his score.

  ‘Ah,’ she said with delight, ‘you’re mentally ill!’

  ‘I am not. Give me that.’

  ‘Look, count it up: “indicates mild mental illness”. It’s the bits about lying awake at night that put you over the limit. And being often restless and unable to rest or keep still. And the one about sometimes feeling nervous.’

  ‘It’s too extreme. This would make everyone mildly mentally ill.’

  ‘Not me. Nor Elke. She’s completely sane too. And Juliet, would you believe. Claire says it’s a reliable clinical tool.’

  ‘Claire. What does she know.’

  Karen laughed. ‘So, mentally ill, eh. My mentally unwell husband.’

  ‘Oh, bollocks.’

  They got dressed and went to dinner. On the way through the garden Simon urged her, without much hope, not to sulk or show hurt with Ed. Any black looks or pouting or attempts to hit back would be a mistake.

  He would have liked to snub Ed, but he concealed his distaste. Karen made sure she sat next to Elke, and he heard her suggest a trip into town the next day, to which Elke agreed. Simon could tell Ed was watching them. Sly, predatory operator that he was, he must have noticed Karen was slightly embattled. He was programmed to home in on weakness and exploit it. Simon was bothered by the suggestion he’d initially dismissed, that Ed might do her some damage with Roza.

  But Karen was rising to the challenge. She talked about the Kessler test and how she and Elke had proven to be completely sane. She didn’t mention Simon’s score, only looked across at him and grinned.

  The young people finished their dinner and went off, led by Marcus, to watch a movie, and Karen managed to draw David and Roza into a conversation that left Ed out. Then she and Roza and Sharon disappeared upstairs, leaving Juliet with the men. Juliet was disconcerted at being excluded from the party upstairs, and said she was going to her room to read.

  Karen had given no hint she was offended. It was smoothly done and left Simon wondering when his open, straightforward wife had learned to be so guarded.

  Ed wandered over to Simon. David and the Cock had gone onto the lawn to smoke cigars. They were pacing slowly towards the pool, smoke billowing over their shoulders.

  ‘They’re plotting,’ Simon said.

  ‘No doubt,’ said Ed.

  ‘You’re not invited to join in?’

  Ed smiled. ‘My work is done today.’

  ‘Oh, right. The world of policing’s all in order.’

  ‘They could be discussing any number of things. Personally, I’ve knocked off for the day. We were discussing social housing all afternoon.’

  Simon said spiritlessly, ‘How to have less of it.’

  Ed said, ‘How to harness aspiration.’

  ‘Harness aspiration. You mean making people fend for themselves.’

  Ed smiled. ‘Helping people fend for themselves.’

  ‘Helping them? Don’t you just mean telling them to get on with it, and letting them rot if they can’t manage?’

  ‘Exactly. Harnessing aspiration.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘David grew up poor . . .’ Simon said.

  ‘But he harnessed his aspiration.’

  Simon thought of Roza. He quoted, ‘You hate the thing that brought you low, and the people you met while you were down there.’

  Ed said, ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Do you think David has a revulsion to the poor?’

  Ed held up
his glass. ‘David has a revulsion to failure.’

  ‘Not a revulsion to failures? With an s? You know what they say: he’s one of those people who’s used the social ladder then kicked it away from the ones behind.’

  ‘Certainly not. We are not the party that kicks away the ladder. We supply the ladder of aspiration. What we say to people is: You make life happen. Don’t wait for life to happen to you.’

  ‘That’s excellent, that is.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I propose a toast,’ Simon said, ‘to the Ladder of Aspiration.’ They raised their glasses and clinked them together. They were both quite drunk.

  He climbed the stairs. He didn’t usually venture into this upper part of the main house, where the Hallwrights lived. But David had asked him to find Roza. David and the Cock were now quite drunk too, and Ed had taken over from Troy and was mixing them a round of his special cocktails. Sharon and Karen had gone to bed, and David said he and the Cock couldn’t settle the dispute they were having unless they consulted Roza.

  He followed the sound of her voice. She was in Johnnie’s room and the little boy was sitting up in bed. His night light was a glowing planet Earth, casting blue shadows on the walls.

  Simon suppressed an impatient sigh, listened.

  The Bachelor brewed one of his most complex nightcaps and, not wishing to be disturbed by his jealous Cassowaries, gave them each a sip of his potion, sending them into a deep sleep. Then he set off to find the Green Lady. But when he got to her jewelled tent, intending to ply her with strong drink while reading her his finest poems, he was disappointed; the object of his greatest hopes was inside the castle with the Ort Cloud, where an important conference was taking place. A spy had reported that the Ort Cloud’s Wife and Barbie Yah were amassing their own forces, and were planning a devastating attack. The battle would take place on the western plain, possibly as soon as the following morning, and the Ort Cloud’s Wife had made a vow: this time she would finish off her husband, kill his friends, and take any survivors to be her slaves.

  The Bachelor, followed by Soon and Starfish, suavely entered the conference room.

  “Dear Lady,” he said, brandishing his bottle, “I will fight alongside you. To the death if necessary. Perhaps a light snifter before we prepare?”

  The Green Lady rolled her eyes.

  Soon and Starfish had sneaked in and were now hiding behind the curtains. They’d been missing since the afternoon, when their tutor, the High Priestess Germphobia, had announced they needed a bath, and had come after them armed with soap and scrubbing brushes. They’d been forced to take refuge in the Idiots’ Village, and then in the forest . . .

  Simon said, ‘David wants you.’

  Johnnie glared. ‘Make Soon talk.’

  ‘Bed. Tomorrow a terrible battle will ensue.’

  ‘Make Soon talk.’

  Roza ignored him and came out onto the landing.

  ‘The Cock’s drinking cocktails,’ Simon said.

  ‘I don’t see why I should go down.’ She went to the window. ‘Look at the moon.’

  He followed her onto the balcony. She said, ‘I was thinking. You didn’t tell me why you had an affair with someone so unlike you, so unsuitable. You could have had an affair in your own circle.’

  Because I was in love with you. Because you can only do so much looking before you have to go and burn it off.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘Oh go on, I want to know.’

  He said, reluctant, ‘I was depressed, and she offered me comfort, and we became friends. I wanted some uncomplicated love and warmth. And then after I’d recovered myself, I didn’t need her any more.’

  ‘You used her and threw her aside.’

  He said steadily, ‘Yeah. I took the comfort she offered me. I recovered myself. And after that the mere thought of her became repugnant and shameful.’

  Roza raised her chin. ‘Are you showing me how cold and hard you are, or are you flagellating yourself?’

  ‘I’m just answering your questions.’

  ‘I think you feel guilty.’

  He shrugged. ‘She was twenty-eight and quite tough. She could look after herself.’

  ‘Didn’t you get uncomplicated love and warmth from Karen?’

  He said sharply, ‘Am I allowed to ask about you and David?’

  She smiled. ‘You could try.’

  ‘Karen and I were going through a bad patch. I was head of obstetrics at the hospital, under pressure, a heavy workload, constant night shifts. I was in a state of depression and . . . you know, she said to me, “We’re friends.” She was a good friend; she was very direct, straightforward, kind. I was touched. Grateful.’

  ‘You do feel guilty.’

  ‘No. It was grotesque. You know what you said, you hate the thing that brought you low and the people you met while you were down there.’

  ‘What if she turned up now?’

  ‘I don’t know where she is or what her circumstances are, which means I have no idea whether to expect to see her or not.’

  Roza yawned. ‘Ah, you’ll never see her again.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you . . .’ He paused, debating whether to go on. ‘When I said she disappeared, I meant she actually disappeared, from her work, her house, everything. I got the idea something bad might have happened to her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because she vanished suddenly, after I’d told her I couldn’t see her any more. No one at her work knew where she’d gone. Her house was just empty one day, with stuff left behind. I was glad she was gone. But at the same time I thought, if something bad’s happened, then people might start looking for her.’

  ‘And then they might find you.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But you’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Nothing wrong! What about cheating on my wife?’

  ‘Oh well, there’s that.’ She was thoughtful now, studying his expression. ‘You must have looked for her, to know she was gone.’

  ‘I went back one more time.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I felt sorry for her.’

  ‘You could try to find out where she is.’

  ‘The last thing I want to do is find her.’

  ‘But do you think it might be a good idea to try? So you’re sort of forewarned?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’

  He still couldn’t bring himself to mention the phone call from the stranger.

  Roza said, ‘There are some things in my past — I suppose this might be so with lots of people — where I don’t know what really happened. I was in such a hurry to move on and change my life that there are quite a few lost threads. Not knowing and not finding out is part of moving on. But still, you think about it sometimes; there are these narratives that were cut off, questions you’ll never answer.’

  ‘Best to keep going forward.’

  ‘Just so long as nothing happens to drag you back.’

  He said, ‘Are you trying to torture me?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Weeks. Arthur Weeks . . .

  She went on, ‘Still, some people would say I disappeared. And I didn’t want to be found. Your friend might be the same.’

  ‘Maybe. We’d better go down. They’ll wonder what we’re doing.’

  ‘One more thing. You say you were depressed.’

  ‘I was working too hard. Arguments at home. Nothing interesting.’

  ‘Is that the only reason?’

  ‘Well, I’d met you, and I couldn’t work out what it was about you that I recognised. It was because you resembled Elke, but I didn’t think of that at first. You must admit, it was a weird situation.’

  ‘You used to sort of stare at me,’ she said.

  ‘I was trying
to work it out.’

  ‘You used to stare as if you had a crush. David noticed.’

  He said coldly, ‘Sorry about that. But like I said, it was a strange situation.’

  ‘You used to stare at Elke, too.’

  Her eyes were very bright.

  ‘Is that right? And now David stares at her.’

  She blinked. ‘Only because she looks like Johnnie.’

  ‘But he looks right through Claire.’

  There was a hard silence between them. Then she smiled, ‘We’re friends because we can talk about things like this. We shouldn’t have any secrets between us. Promise?’ She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  He closed his eyes. ‘Yes, sure.’

  But what was he promising?

  Weeks

  Simon made a resolution: he would work on his mental health. He went for a long run out to the Kauri Lake, lay by the pool with his novel, and made sure he didn’t drink too much in the evening. He played some strenuous games of tennis with Marcus, which knackered him more than he admitted to the boy, although they were fairly evenly matched. Like Roza, he would try to find a way to live. To look after the body was the plan — look after the body and the mind will improve.

  Instead of getting out of bed at dawn he tried to sleep in, and his tossing and turning woke Karen and led to a satisfactory encounter there in the tousled bed, with the early light shining through the slatted blinds of the Little House and the tuis warbling in the trees outside.

  Afterwards they lay in the striped light. Karen said, ‘David’s got himself a personal trainer.’

  ‘What about Garth?’

  ‘Garth’s Roza’s. You’ve got to have your own, or it’s not personal. David’s hired one called Dean. He came yesterday.’

  ‘What, in a crate I suppose.’

  ‘He took David for a full session. Weights. Running.’

  Simon yawned and stretched. ‘He’ll have to go easy. David never does any exercise at all.’

  Karen said, ‘He’s written David a programme, and told him what they need to work on. And he said David specially needs . . .’ She pressed her lips together.