Careful, He Might Hear You

by Sumner Locke Elliott

  She said, smiling back at him hard and bright, ‘Would you mind awfully not fiddling with that. It’s fragile.’

  ‘You mean it’s Ettie’s.’

  Still smiling, she rose, saying, ‘How about a sherry before lunch?’

  ‘If that’s all you’ve got.’

  ‘That’s all.’

  Handing him the glass of sherry, she sat again and waited, determined that she would speak no more until he had given some reply to her long peroration. But now it seemed as though he too was preoccupied with faint sounds of the past, for he was staring past her at the wet wisteria vines beyond the windows and whistling softly.

  The clock whirred and struck.

  He said, ‘Where’s the blue-sky gentleman?’

  ‘Who? PS?’

  ‘I s’pose you never heard of that. Family joke.’

  He seemed to think he had scored a small point and so she made a big point of ignoring it.

  ‘I’ve sent the maid to get him. If you’d phoned first—’

  ‘Does he know I’m coming?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Won’t it be a shock?’

  ‘I’m a believer in the fait accompli. Children worry far more in advance. Better to present them with the situation.’

  ‘Yes, I s’pose with your vast experience with children you’d know better.’

  ‘I think, in all fairness to you, Logan, that you should get an honest reaction and not something that has been carefully rehearsed. That’s why I’ve had to keep Lila in the dark about our arrangement. She’s so excitable and hysterical, she’d have been at him to say this and that to you. God knows what! I’ve told you that she’s made him conceal things from me and tell me untruths.’

  He laughed and she said sternly, ‘You don’t think that’s serious?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Knowing what a stickler you always were for honesty.’

  She had expected a barb or two, but suddenly the old wound hurt. She bent quickly to the fire and poked at a log long enough to excuse her burning face. Then she said, ‘Actually, everything I’ve told you can be proven.’

  ‘Oh, I’m dead sure of that, Ness, but of course I’ve got to get Lila’s side of the story.’

  ‘Naturally. I want you to.’

  ‘I tried to ring her up this morning but their phone’s out of order or something.’

  ‘Cut off. They’re in terrible trouble, Logan. Stony broke.’

  ‘So’s everyone.’

  She was dying to say, ‘Except me. Look around you at this room, my dear. Take note of the carpet, for instance. It’s an Aubusson but that wouldn’t mean anything to you, accustomed only to linoleum. And you couldn’t know that those chairs are Queen Anne and that happens to be Amontillado you’re swigging down as though it were cooking sherry. You’re not impressed. You’ve made a big point of not being impressed. You haven’t said a word about the house or about me. How do I look? Am I changed? Starting to look middle-aged? Spinsterish? Well, at least I’m not that confused girl who stared at you bug-eyed as though you’d hung the moon. I’d like to tell you how you look, my dear. But I can’t because there’s something I want from you.’

  She said, ‘There’s a number where you can call and leave a message for Lila at a neighbour’s house. But I’d rather you didn’t phone until we’ve settled things.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’

  ‘I appreciate you not going out to see her before you talked to me.’

  ‘Oh, I read my instructions very carefully!’

  ‘Logan, I had to make some conditions.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, Ness. It wouldn’t be you if there weren’t conditions. You’re footing the bill.’

  ‘We could hardly talk about all this over a long-distance phone.’

  ‘That’s right, Ness.’

  ‘I’d have brought PS to Bacchus Marsh but that would have meant disrupting school and all his other lessons. Besides being unfair to Lila.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Besides, how was I to know you’d be in the Marsh?’

  ‘Besides. Besides. Besides.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Well, the obvious thing was to send for you.’

  ‘Thanks. Before I forget my manners, thank you very much, Ness.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure if Lila and George had had the money—’

  ‘Thank you very, very, very much. Can I have some more sherry?’

  ‘Think you should?’

  ‘Think I won’t behave?’

  ‘You always behave, Logan.’

  ‘You always say the right thing, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t try to spar with me, Logan.’

  ‘Who’s sparring? I’m not sparring with you, dear girl. I’m just asking for some more sherry and I’ll be very frank with you, Ness. I had a couple of quick shots before coming.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Now, you know I did.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, and you know why.’

  ‘Here, Logan. But sip it.’

  ‘Sip it, yes. You know why, don’t you. What’ll I say to him?’

  ‘Just be yourself.’

  ‘What’s that? What am I? Or rather, what am I to him?’

  ‘I don’t honestly know, Logan.’

  ‘Oh, come on, you can do better than that. You got me here. Got me this far. Least you can do is give me a clue. How do I explain myself to him?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what to say.’

  ‘Come on, Ness. You know him and I don’t. He doesn’t know me from Cain. How do I explain myself?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  ‘Well, you know me. Give me a hint, Ness. How should I behave with him?’

  She was standing now beside the wing chair and he was looking up at her. It was PS’s face, just washed, slightly troubled, asking where were they going? She thought, Yes, you’re scared to death. In spite of all your protective jibes, you’re really scared to death, and why wouldn’t you be?

  From her safe perch, she savoured his disadvantage, gloated a moment, decided to reward him with a compliment.

  She let her hand rest lightly on his shoulder, feeling the strong back muscles, remembering a car in a dark field.

  She said, ‘Poor Logan. Just be nice to him.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘You know how.’ Her voice was low now. ‘Like you were with me.’

  Instantly she saw the glint of triumph, heard the impudent laugh.

  ‘I knew you’d say that.’

  She drew back her hand as if she had touched a scorpion. It was the same old trick to send her flying off her perch into the mud, squawking and fluttering in a loss of feathers, upside down in the dirt with his foot on her, their positions reversed, and hearing him say:

  ‘But tell me, Ness. Why do you want him all to yourself? Why do you want to drag him off to London?’

  It had all been carefully prearranged. The whole strategy designed to throw her off balance and then follow up the advantage like a prosecuting attorney who woos the witness with honeyed words and then whips out the damaging evidence. Now, flustered and confused, she must make her case badly, for that was what he had intended all along. He wanted her to plead on her knees for PS. Well, she wouldn’t. A glacier would form in the garden before she would beg from him.

  Baker’s son!

  Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can.

  She lit a cigarette, taking her time, watching the match burn down. Then, when she had finally detached herself from him, controlled her desire to slap his face, she blew out the match, sat down and began again.

  First, it surely must be clear that two homes were one too many for a child, confusing his loyalty and muddling him as to who was in charge. Secondly, Lila and George were incapable of providing for him any longer. They had done so, admirably, for six and a half years and the time had arrived when they should be relieved of the burd
en. Thirdly, the advantages of London were obvious. A good school, Continental travel, and later Cambridge, where her Pater went, but only if PS wanted it; this she would not enforce. Fourthly, Sinden would have approved.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I have the letter she wrote just before she died.’

  ‘She wrote a letter a day.’

  ‘Not like this one.’

  Exhibit A. Sinden’s letter. He read it through with an expressionless face.

  ‘You see what she says. “I’ll have the children and Ness will manage them.” ’

  ‘One of her six-o’clock-in-the-morning impulses.’

  ‘Well, it is in black and white.’

  ‘Your day probably. I bet she said the same to Lila. And to Vere. Even Agnes. Lucky for the boy your parents stopped when they did. He’d have had a hockey team of aunts all claiming him.’

  ‘I believe she wanted me.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Why you, Ness?’

  ‘Two reasons. I have the wherewithal.’

  ‘Yes, you do. What’s the other?’

  ‘I was closest to her.’

  ‘Balls.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Cut that out,’ he said, rising suddenly six feet over her. ‘Now cut that out, Vanessa. You didn’t even know her.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘None of your family knew her. Vere, a little. Not much, but a little. I knew her absolutely.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Ab-so-lute-ly.’

  He crossed to the cabinet and poured another sherry.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘that that was why she called you her five-minute husband. But of course you wouldn’t have heard of that. Family joke.’

  ‘Well, it’s nice. It’s her. She could live more in five minutes than you could in five years.’

  ‘Mmmmm. Unfortunately that’s why she’s in Woronora Cemetery. And you’re right about me. I live my life sparingly and without waste. Especially emotional waste. I think that’s why she says in her letter that she yearns for my profound sense of organisation.’

  ‘Good description of you.’

  ‘Yes. And I believe at the end—at the very end—she had great need of someone like me. I think she was finally sick to death of chaos and—and unpredictability. She said the child would be the postscript to her ridiculous life. Well, it was ridiculous. Always off course—always running off at some wild tangent; she had no discipline about anything she did. None!’

  ‘Why so angry, Ness?’

  ‘Not angry. Sorry. Why should I be angry about it?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘Good God, I’m not angry! I’m just very, very thankful that I’m not like that; that I know when to draw on the reins. That’s all. And I’ll tell you this, Logan, I’m jolly well sure she wished at the end that she’d had some of my caution.’

  ‘How do you jolly well know what she wished at the end? You weren’t with her. You were off being Lady Piss-Elegant in London!’

  ‘Where were you?’

  Got you, she thought. I’ve really got you this time, my dear. Try to wriggle out of that one!

  He put down his sherry glass and she noticed with triumph that his hand shook.

  She said quietly, ‘Is it cold in here? You might put some more wood on the fire.’

  He turned and obediently picked up a log, poked it into the fire and remained with his back to her, staring at sparks.

  She said, ‘Why did you give me PS?’

  ‘Gave you half of him.’ His voice sounded hoarse.

  ‘Well, why? Why did you agree to let me take over Ernest Huxley’s guardianship?’

  ‘Alice and my mother thought …’

  After a long pause, she prompted. ‘What?’

  ‘They always liked you. Mum liked you a lot. Mum always said—Oh, what the hell, I always stuck to what Mum said. It wasn’t you. It was the money. That’s the honest-to-God stinking fact of it. Alice and Mum said that with Cousin Ettie’s loot he’d have the best of everything.’

  ‘Do you think I’ve done the best I possibly can for him?’

  ‘Stop talking, will you, Ness? God, I’m tired. I’m suddenly so damn tired.’

  ‘Just this one question, Logan. Please. Do you think I’ve at least tried to do my very best?’

  ‘How do I know? Yes, I suppose. Hell, I don’t know. I don’t s’pose you beat him and lock him in the cellar. What do I know about anything? Yes, I would think in your own way you’ve done bloody marvellously.’

  ‘Then let me do the most I can. What I know and believe is the right and only way out of this impasse. Let me take him to London.’

  There was a tap at the door and Diana’s scared face.

  ‘He’s here, Misscot.’

  Vanessa said:

  ‘Oh, you’re home, PS. Come here, darling.’

  Logan, hearing the flip of sandals coming across the hall, remained staring down at the fire, afraid to turn.

  Vanessa was kissing him and her eyes had that very bright excited look. Who was the man? Who was the big man bending over the fireplace and kicking logs with his foot? Was this man the Thing? Was this a new teacher? Was he going to have even more lessons in the afternoons?

  ‘PS, dear,’ said Vanessa, ‘this is your father.’

  He kept on staring up at her, wondering if it was a joke. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man turn and look at him and so he turned his head and looked at the man and they looked at each other for a very long while until the man said in a deep gruff voice rather like the one that George put on when he read a story (when he was a bear), ‘Hello, PS,’ and Vanessa said, ‘Don’t you think you might go and give Logan a nice kiss?’ Logan! Oh, no, this couldn’t be Logan at all. This man wasn’t a bit the way Logan was meant to look; and kiss Logan? That would be awful, worse than anything. He took a step towards Vanessa and stared at her belt buckle until she turned him around and gave him a slight push and the man took a step towards him but didn’t seem to know what to do either and was fumbling in his coat pocket and brought out something wrapped in brown paper and said, ‘Here’s a present for you.’ ‘What is it?’ he asked, and the man said, ‘Why don’t you open it and see?’ and so he unwrapped the parcel. It was a very disappointing present. It was just a stone. Just a plain old bit of stone with some glittery stuff in it and the man said, ‘It’s gold. I brought you some gold, PS.’ Of course, it wasn’t gold at all, anyone could see that, but Vanessa was pretending it was and saying, ‘Oh, isn’t that nice. Isn’t that jolly nice. Logan dug that out of the earth for you. Now I do think you might give him a kiss for that,’ and the man bent down and kissed him with very dry lips, scratching his face with his rough suit and smelling of something rather sweet the way Ettie did sometimes and then the man suddenly hugged him very hard and said, ‘Jesus, God,’ and kept holding on to him, not doing anything else or saying anything, just holding on until he pushed the man away, not rudely, but just so that he could breathe again because he suddenly felt a bit sick, knowing that this must really be Logan. Only Logan went out and found gold and Vanessa never told fibs and so the Thing was worse, much, much worse than he’d ever thought because Logan coming meant something terrible was going to happen just like Winnie had always said: ‘They’ll come and get you and take you away.’ And now Logan was laughing and saying, ‘Well well well,’ and kept on saying it over and over again and Vanessa took the stone and put it on the table; wrapping up the paper neatly like she always did with parcels and said, ‘I tell you what you might do. You might take Logan upstairs and show him your room while I see about luncheon. Logan, is a soufflé all right for you, oh, good, and, PS, I think Logan would like to see your train too, don’t you?’ and she went clipclopping out on her high heels calling to Diana and to Ellen about lunch and he and Logan were left alone.

  As soon as Vanessa had gone out of the room, Logan walked over to the cabinet and poured something out of a bottle and drank it very
fast, and said, ‘Where’s the train, PS?’ so he said in a whisper, ‘Upstairs.’ ‘Will you show me?’ Logan asked, so he nodded. There was no getting out of it, no use hiding, and nowhere to run because it was raining outside. He led the way and Logan followed as they went upstairs, not saying anything until they reached the top. Then he said to Logan, ‘That’s my room there,’ and they went into his room and stood there, not knowing what to do next. ‘That’s my bed,’ he said, and then he pointed out the wardrobe, the bookshelves and the little armchair, and opening a drawer, he showed all the gloves, socks and handkerchiefs, noticing that Logan looked at him all the time and not at the things, but he went on until there was nothing more to see in the bedroom. He said, ‘The train’s over here,’ and they went across the hall to the spare room where the door was open and they both stood and stared down at the train. He knelt down and turned the switch and the little train darted off and ran around the track while they watched in silence until Logan squatted down on the carpet by him and said, ‘By golly, that’s a nice train, PS. I came on a big train all the way from Melbourne. I got on a train at Bacchus Marsh and went to Melbourne and there I got on another big train for a whole night and came to Sydney.’ Logan seemed to think that this was great fun because he slapped him on the back and said, ‘How’d you like to come on the big train with me someday and see all your uncles and aunts and cousins?’ Was this what was cooking? Was Vanessa going to send him away with Logan? The very thought of it was so awfully frightening that he wondered if he should run out of the room and escape quickly that very minute, not even wait to find his raincoat, run through the rain and catch a tram and the boat home where Lila would hide him in some safe place. He edged away so that Logan would not be able to catch hold of him suddenly, edged as far as he could towards the open door, ready to run. Logan apparently noticed it because he stopped smiling and changed the subject quickly and said, ‘Go to kindergarten, do you?’ No, he explained almost in a whisper, not any more. Now he went to Miss Pile’s and yes, thank you, he liked it. Yes, he had some nice ‘chums’, thank you. Yes, he liked his piano lessons, thank you. And riding school and dancing class. Thank you. How could he explain to a stranger like Logan that he hated Miss Pile’s and those nasty kids, hated all the lessons in the afternoons, hated coming back to Vanessa’s every Sunday evening? If he said that, then Logan would be certain to take him away on that train. Fortunately, Logan seemed to have run out of questions and just sat there, clearing his throat every now and then as if he had swallowed a fly and staring at the toy train, and so he watched it too and now there was no noise except the train and the rain outside, and he wished that Vanessa would come and rescue them or better still that Logan would just go away and not come back.