The Slow Death of Maxwell Carrick

by Jan Harvey

George cleared his throat. ‘How was Oxford?’

  ‘It was fine,’ I replied stonily, my pride wounded. Alice stepped into the breach again and there was talk of the latest Food Ministry edicts, news from Westminster, and the hunt, would there be a return to more of it anytime soon? I did not participate because I was studying George and I saw then how much his manner had changed. I perceived a haughtiness about him, something had come over him and I was not entirely sure that I liked it. It had become obvious after I had taken Cécile away to Oxford.

  We repaired to the lounge together where a roaring fire was awaiting us.

  Alice touched my elbow. ‘Do ignore George,’ she whispered out of his hearing. ‘He has become very pompous, for some reason, in the last few days.’

  As she moved away to stand beside Cécile, I remembered her gift and left the room, gratefully I will admit, to fetch it. The rest of the house was uncommonly cold, the nights had drawn in and the frost had begun its nightly treachery.

  When I returned to the hall, some five minutes later, I caught a glimpse of Grant by the kitchen door. The half-light caused by the blackout curtains meant I could not see with whom he was talking, but there was some sort of interaction afoot. The other person was tucked in behind the door of the morning room and, as I moved closer, there was a whispering of quick sharp words.

  ‘Is all well, Grant?’ I enquired. My voice sounded crystal clear in the empty hall. The door to the lounge was shut to retain heat, the light from under it a sharp line on the threshold and only the dimmest of lights were illuminated about the hall.

  It was George who stepped out from the shadows. Grant backed away and left through the kitchen door without a word.

  ‘Ah, Carrick, nothing to concern you,’ said George and he guided me, quite forcefully, by the elbow in the direction of the lounge.

  ‘If I have upset matters with my comment about the venison, I am deeply sorry, George.’

  ‘No, no, old boy, nothing like that, it’s of no import. What have you got there? Ah, a present for Alice, how kind.’

  We entered the lounge just as Alice was opening a gift from Cécile. It was a notebook with a French design on the cover with which Alice seemed very pleased. I handed her my gift and, as is the usual practice of women she was enchanted by the wrappings. I lit a cigarette and watched as she opened it, pulling out the scarf so that it billowed.

  ‘Oh, Carrick, it is delightful, thank you.’ She smiled and held it up against her face. ‘I adore daisies.’ I saw Cécile’s hand go to the brooch where she ran a finger over it then glanced up at me, her face questioning; I smiled to reassure her.

  Alice was opening another gift, from the staff. It was an ebony box covered in tiny diamonds of ivory, for keepsakes and such. Very charming.

  ‘I am thinking that now is the perfect moment to announce my news,’ said George, once Alice had finished fussing and had put the wrappings to one side. He was pouring us all a whisky, the colour of bracken on the Scottish moors in autumn. I could only wonder what this announcement could be, because he had said nothing of note in the past weeks.

  He finished pouring and placed the decanter down. The silver tray rattled as he did so. He was obviously going to bring us good news and he was brim full with excitement. He took his place next to Cécile and I saw that she was looking down at her feet and obviously worrying. I strongly suspected that she was to be party to an announcement that involved only the family.

  ‘I must apologise to Alice for intruding upon her birthday celebrations but I have some wonderful news to share with you.’ George was looking immensely pleased with himself. ‘As you know, there was a meeting of the party a fortnight since to discuss the by-election, and I am honoured to tell you that I have been voted as candidate for this constituency.’

  Alice clapped her hands together. ‘Oh George, what fun! I have always said if you did not go into the church you would make a fine Member of Parliament, I am delighted.’

  ‘Well done, old man,’ I said, raising my glass to him. ‘They have made a damned good choice.’ I waited for Cécile to add her own congratulations, but she was quiet and still looking down at the floor. She was embarrassed to be here, an outsider and I felt a tug of empathy because there have been times, particularly when I was younger, when I have felt exactly the same.

  ‘And further, I have been giving much thought to my future career and could not be more delighted to tell you that I am not about to embark on this new chapter of my life alone. I have asked Cécile for her hand in marriage and she has agreed. I can proudly, yes most proudly, announce that this wonderful lady is to be my wife.’

  37

  Steve was holding a bunch of car keys in front of me. ‘Happy Birthday!’ He planted a kiss on my cheek then led me by the hand to the driveway.

  ‘Oh Steve, it’s lovely.’ It was Volkswagen Polo, in metallic grey with cream leather seats. ‘It’s just lovely.’

  ‘It’s not new, a couple of years old, but not that many miles on the clock and just about anything’s better than your old Honda, isn’t it? Oh, and look, an added bonus…’ He opened the driver’s door and beckoned me over. ‘Come and take a look at this.’ He was very excited for me and put two hands on my shoulders as I leant into the car. The smell was lovely, fresh, clean not like my old jalopy. ‘See, there.’ He pointed at the dashboard.

  ‘Satellite navigation!’ I was so touched by his thoughtfulness because directions were not my strong suit.

  ‘Yes, so you never need to get lost again,’ he said joyfully. ‘No more maps spread across bonnets for you.’

  ‘Oh Steve, that’s wonderful, thank you.’

  He made me sit in the car and then he went round to the passenger side and climbed in next to me. ‘How good is this? You can input a new destination here by clicking on these letters, or retrieve your old one by selecting this button and you can choose fastest route, a route avoiding motorways, or an economical route; good for saving fuel.’

  I was watching him, his face was animated because he was so excited for me and I knew he would have stretched the budget to buy such a lovely car.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you for being so kind.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure.’ He kissed me again. ‘Fancy a spin?’ He was so pleased with himself.

  ‘Why not?’ I replied and he took me off to Stow and Moreton on a whim. Huge poppy fields flashed by and linseed too, a riot of primary colours in a lush green Cotswold countryside.

  When we arrived home, we had laughed a lot, and he was going to the village shop for some fizz to celebrate my special day. As I opened the front door, my phone was ringing.

  ‘Hi Martha, it’s me.’

  I knew his voice immediately. It sent a wave of warmth through my body. ‘Hi Rory.’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I’m just calling to let you know that Norman Fry is happy to meet with you on Tuesday afternoon. Would that suit you?’

  I pretended to look through my diary, acting as if I was busy, as if this, us, was all very much a sideline.

  ‘Er, yes, that looks fine.’

  ‘Why don’t you come here for two and we can have a cup of tea and a chat?’

  I hesitated, the excuses were rushing into my mind, but I was ignoring them.

  ‘That would be lovely.’

  ‘Just a chat,’ he said as if I needed reassurance.

  ‘Yes,’ I said wishing it were otherwise, foolishly wishing.

  38

  I felt sick, not the seesaw sickness of over excess, but the need to sit down, to clutch my stomach, to hold my guts in place. I held fast. George was beaming with self-satisfaction, his great round face the happiest I’ve ever seen it. I dared not look at Cécile. Alice had moved forward, offering her congratulations, whilst I was rooted to the spot, my throat knotted in constriction. I watc
hed as Alice hugged them both but I could not hear what she was saying because there was a loud thrumming in my ears.

  Alice then turned and was walking towards me. It was just a few short yards but she seemed to be travelling forever; as if we were both submerged in a pool. She raised her eyebrows to me, a private message of surprise written all over her face, then she was holding my hands, drawing me to the happy couple.

  Then I was kissing Cécile, my eyes catching the sheen on the topaz at the centre of her brooch, it was so beautiful. The petals were enamelled and white, eight of them, so pretty. Alice loves daisies, I thought. It became a mantra repeating itself inside my head. George was clapping me on the back with his big bear paws.

  There was a clinking of glasses, I have to presume I joined in, then words floated through my head, disjointed, surreal. “Parliament;” “Wedding;” “Small affair;” “Paris.” Alice loves daisies.

  I backed away when Grant came in and watched as George shared the news of the forthcoming nuptials. Grant’s smile was forced and as he turned away, he glanced at me and I saw that his eyes were saying a thousand words, but his face was impassive, professional, betraying nothing.

  I followed him out on some hastily made up pretext. He was walking at a march towards the kitchens through the dark hall.

  ‘Grant.’ When I called to him, he turned around, his face ghostly.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘I, I–’ Frankly I had no idea what I was going to say. I wanted to ask him what he thought of this new turn of events and I felt the sudden need for an ally, but it was not etiquette.

  ‘Is there something I can fetch for you, sir?’

  ‘No, I… that is, I’m sure you are pleased about the new announcement, as indeed I am.’

  ‘Yes, sir, very pleased.’ His eyes told a different story.

  ‘Only…’ I moved alongside him, closer to the kitchen door. ‘It was rather a shock for me.’

  ‘Do you need something? Are you feeling unwell?’

  ‘No, I, I–’ I was stuttering like an old fool. I decided it was easier just to ask the question out loud. ‘You seemed a little surprised, as indeed I was.’

  ‘Yes I was, sir,’ he said. ‘Very surprised indeed. I’m afraid I will not be able to stay at Lapston now, I will have to find a new place of work.’

  ‘Really?’ I was stunned. ‘Why? Was it something to do with the conversation in the hall?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’m afraid the new mistress would make life for me at Lapston untenable, I have made this clear to the Major.’

  ‘Oh good God, Grant, you must reconsider; you are part of the furniture here, you have always have been.’

  ‘Perhaps once, sir, but Madame Roussell has made it very clear to me that I must go, and I have no intention of outstaying my welcome.’ With that, he bowed slightly and then turning away, walked towards the kitchen.

  39

  The doorbell rang. It was Becky with a bottle of red in one hand and bunch of pale lilac flowers in the other. ‘Hi Becky, come on in.’ I gave her a huge hug, I hadn’t seen her for a long while.

  ‘This can’t go on, Martha. We used to meet once a week for lunch and now I don’t see you in months.’

  ‘I know, I can only apologise.’ I did feel bad about it, but the time had just slipped away between my intentions and my acting on them. Steve was at parents’ evening and then having a drink with some of his colleagues at the pub near the school, and I had called Becky at the last minute to see if she was free.

  ‘How are things?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh just fine,’ I replied.

  ‘You’re saying it I but your eyes aren’t convincing me,’ Becky said.

  ‘How do you do that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘See into my soul.’

  ‘Heavens, Martha, you’re like an open book, you always have been. You looked sad when I last saw you and you look even worse now, sort of dejected. Like you’re pining or something.’ Becky sipped her wine as I weighed it up in my mind. Could I tell her? She hardly knew Steve, surely she would take my side.

  ‘Becky, can I tell you something in absolute confidence?’

  ‘Of course you can. Oh my God, Martha, you’re not ill are you?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘I’m not, but I might be going mad.’ Even as I spoke those words I felt like I was betraying Steve, a low pain twisted in my stomach. ‘I’ve met someone, a man, a very lovely man.’

  Becky’s eyes were like saucers. ‘You’ve met someone… a man?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Who, where, when? Tell me.’

  I felt so relieved that I let it all come out. At last I had someone in whom I could confide, but Becky’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. When I was through, her total disapproval was obvious.

  ‘This can’t go on, you cannot betray Steve, you mustn’t see this man anymore, it’s far too dangerous.’

  I don’t know if I was looking for her approval or her acquiescence, but her flat refusal to hear me out, to let me explain my feelings, made me feel cheap. I was trying to defend something that was terribly wrong. I knew that and even as I did, I found myself imagining him there, right next to us on Steve’s easy chair, his eyes on me, his body language telling me he wanted me. It was all I could do not to get up and go to this figment of him.

  ‘You will kill this marriage of yours dead if you carry on and you’ve been married for yonks,’ Becky was saying. ‘Forget this man, he’s only attractive because you are vulnerable; you’re bored and lonely on your own. Martha you’re not listening are you?’

  I wasn’t listening; I was elsewhere, with him, on the bench at Lapston, on his sofa, standing looking over the river. All at once, I wanted desperately to be with him.

  Becky tried to change the conversation, but it wasn’t ever going to be the same again and I realised, with that slow churning pain in my stomach, that I wasn’t going to be seeing her anymore, or at least not for a very long time. Not until I was out of danger with Rory, and it was danger, the danger of my own stupidity taking me over.

  40

  I do not know how I made it through the rest of the evening. I stayed outside the conversation, watching like a wolf at the mouth of a cave whilst the fire burned within. George outlined his key objectives as a member of parliament and, because it was a safe seat, it was unthinkable that he would not win. All the time I watched her, my sense of anger and betrayal quelled by the whisky and the cigarettes that I smoked incessantly.

  At last, they left for a late night walk in the garden – the lovers. I was miserable, deeply wounded and very drunk.

  ‘Oh Carrick!’ Alice was beside me in a trice, her hand resting upon mine. ‘Darling, I am so sorry. I know you thought yourself in love with her, but she really is not for you, she is not kind. She is not for George either and I must find some way to tell him. I’m afraid that he is mad with love for her and has been since that very first day.’

  ‘Well, he might be, but he does not know her at all. He knows nothing of her.’ I was slurring, I knew the drink had loosened my tongue. I should have taken more care. ‘She already has a man in tow, I saw them together.’

  ‘Really?’ Alice leaned back, staring into my eyes. I might have been drunk but I had her attention.

  ‘Yes really, the old fool, George. She is playing him like a cheap violin.’

  ‘You are probably mistaken, Carrick, and anyway she is here now, she won’t be seeing anyone else, they’ll be together, more’s the pity.’

  I straightened up.

  ‘You don’t like her, do you?’

  ‘That is a very strong way of putting it, Carrick. I hardly know her and she is to be my sister, but I would have picked someone… better for George.’

  I lifted a finger and ran it along her jawbone, her skin so soft to the touch. ‘Oh Mouse, you are such a
balanced and reasonable person, such an antidote to me. I am a fool, a stupid fool.’

  ‘You’re not, darling. You have simply not been yourself in quite a while.’

  ‘I have no idea who I am anymore.’

  ‘You’re my dearest friend, the kind, gentle friend who has been beside me for my whole life.’ She was rubbing my shoulder in the most caring way. I raised my head to meet her eyes and saw her features melding together, her voice thrum, thrumming in my head, like a drum, like a volley from a machine gun and then everything went black.

  The house was empty, or so it seemed, there was not a sound anywhere. It was eleven, the clock in the hall chiming icily in the stillness. I had mercifully escaped a hangover thanks to a large glass of water placed by my bed. I had downed it in one when I awoke in the night. Grant would have done that for me, he and George having heaved my limp body up the stairs. It was with regretful shame that I gingerly stepped down the stairs, stopping at the turn of the landing.

  Still there was silence.

  Then the light sound of feet coming from the garden room and Cécile appeared. Grant had left the post on the salver in the hall, as he was wont to do when he was busy elsewhere. She picked up the wad of letters, reading the addresses as if she expected to see something. The third one caught her attention and she turned it over looking, I presumed, for a return address.

  I knew that should she sense my presence, I would disturb her so I stood perfectly still. She pushed the letter deep into the pocket of her cardigan and walked to the library. I descended the stairs carefully, quietly stalking her as I would a lone stag. At the doorway, I peered in, keeping my body out of her line of sight. She was starting to open the envelope and I was intrigued, bewitched again by her for, even then, I could not take my eyes off her body, the lines and perfect shape of her.

  ‘Carrick?’

  I snapped out of my trance and dipped back behind the doorframe as if I could pretend I was not there.