A Bouquet of Barbed Wire (4 page)

Mindful of Bernard, now, he sat at his desk for a little while longer and wrote him a memo. Sometimes he felt the whole place existed on memos. But it was simpler, in the long run, than bellowing the firm’s affairs into a hearing aid that seemed even feebler than Bernard’s ears. He hoped Bernard would not attend the sales conference on Friday but he expected he would. If he did, everything would have to be said three times and the meeting would be unbearably protracted. Moreover, any policy decisions, however brilliant, were apt to lose some of their lustre after so much repetition. It brought an aura of ridicule to the proceedings and Bernard should have been the last person to encourage that. But it would be fatal not to inform him about the meeting. He would be sure to find out and he would come and make a scene. Manson did not relish the spectacle of the old man making himself ridiculous in public. Why could he not see that his innings was over? At almost eighty, for God’s sake, it should not be so difficult to let the power pass, officially, into other hands. Or was he not aware that the deference accorded him was mere courtesy and it was years since he had actually been allowed to make a decision? Yet it was Bernard, incredibly, who on reading
The Forsyte Saga
, had muttered ‘People don’t behave like that.’ Now that his deafness was advanced Manson wickedly lived in hope of hearing him say ‘Nobody ever tells me anything.’ Meanwhile he went on doggedly writing memos: Peter Eliot Manson to Bernard Eliot, and praying as never before that when
his
time came he would go quickly, under a bus.

He liked the peace of the office at night: he was almost
reluctant to leave. Perhaps it was the resemblance to his rooms at Cambridge, if you could forget the traffic outside. The noise doubled as he reached the street and looked round for a taxi. He did not feel like walking now. In fact he was surprised how tired he was. He stood on the pavement searching for the comfortable black shape and welcoming light, and the crowds scurried past him on either side like a column of ants parting when they encounter an obstacle. A taxi appeared and he got into it, giving the name of the station. It occurred to him, as they began the long, slow crawl through traffic, that he had been doing this journey, one way or another, for half his life.

‘I
SAW
P
RUE
today,’ he said to Cassie, after they had greeted each other. She always kissed him when he got home, not a conventional peck on the cheek but a light kiss full on the mouth: she had moist, wide lips and usually forgot to wear lipstick. There was always a smell that he liked at this time of day, faded perfume not yet renewed, so that it had the aura of powder or soap rather than scent. Blindfolded, he would have said, ‘That’s Cassie.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘She rang me later.’

‘She wasn’t sick again?’ he asked in sudden panic.

Cassie laughed, but gently, and said in a soothing voice, ‘Of course she wasn’t. It
is
called
morning
sickness, you know.’

Manson said, ‘Yes, she had a bad bout of it
this
morning.’

‘I know. But she enjoyed her lunch enormously. That should put your mind at rest.’

‘Was that what she rang up to say?’

‘More or less. She just wanted to chat. I invited them both for the weekend—was that all right?’

‘Of course. Are they coming?’ He held his breath, hoping without hope to hear that Prue was coming, yes, but Gavin was unfortunately prevented.

‘Yes, but not till Saturday. Apparently Gavin has to see somebody on Saturday morning.’

‘He could go up by train from here. Or I could bring Prue
back with me on Friday night and he could follow.’ It was so nearly what he wanted.

‘I know, I suggested that. But they don’t want to be separated.’

‘Good God, for twenty-four hours?’

‘I know, I know.’ She was smiling. ‘But we used to be like that, don’t you remember?

‘That’s hardly the point.’

‘What is the point?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I need a drink, I expect.’

She was already mixing one. ‘Well, they’re coming on Saturday. In time for lunch, Prue said. She still has a very healthy appetite, your daughter.’

‘Yes, she put away the soufflé today like nobody’s business.’

‘I know. She gave me a fork by fork account of the whole meal. She said how Gavin would envy her when she told him.’

‘Well, I’m not going to start feeding Gavin as well, if that’s what she’s thinking. Thanks.’ He took the glass and drank slowly, closing his eyes.

‘You’re tired,’ said Cassie, studying him. ‘Shall I leave you alone for a bit? I’ve got dinner to see to anyway.’

‘No. Stay awhile. Talk to me. The hell with dinner—we’ve got nobody coming, have we?’

‘No. Just us.’

‘That’s all right then. It can wait.’ He took another gulp of Scotch. ‘Do
you
think I should start feeding Gavin as well?’

‘Did I say so?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t think you
should
do anything. But it would please Prue, that’s all.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t please me.’

Cassie shrugged. She began to pour gin for herself. ‘I saw Marjorie today. She and Alec want us to go over for dinner one day next week. I said I’d have to ask you.’

‘Damn Marjorie and Alec.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s not a proper invitation. One day next week. How can we possibly get out of that?’

Cassie poured tonic into her gin. ‘Why do you want to get out of it? You like Marjorie and Alec’

‘Yes, of course I like bloody Marjorie and bloody Alec. Cass, haven’t we done enough to please Prue, too much maybe?’

‘Meaning we’ve spoilt her?’

‘No—but—oh, I don’t know, maybe we have at that. She’s never had to do without anything, I don’t mean she’s unappreciative, quite the reverse, but when it came to the point she couldn’t do without Gavin either.’

Cassie sat down opposite him, turning her glass in her hands. ‘Darling, you’re going to have to get over this. We all had a lot to say at the time, we were upset and quite rightly, and we said what we thought and they took it. That’s enough. It has to be enough. They’re married now and Prue’s having a baby and it hardly matters any more when she started it. A few people will gossip but that’s all. It’s over. It’s settled. It’s not an issue any more.’

‘Is that how you think of it?’

‘How else can I think of it? Darling, look, I was as upset as you were when it happened but—’

He interrupted her. ‘No. No, I don’t think you were.’

‘Well, nearly. It’s always worse for fathers of daughters.’

‘How calm you are. Putting it all into neat little categories. It’s
Prue
you’re talking about, you know.’

‘Yes, I know. But it’s
over.’

They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Cassie got up and went over the window. Manson closed his eyes again. She sounded very distant when she said, ‘You do have other children, you know.’

‘What on earth does that mean?’

‘Just that. Prue doesn’t have to be your sole preoccupation, especially now.’ An apologetic note crept into her voice. ‘After all, she is officially off our hands.’

‘Yes.’

Cassie turned from the window and walked back to him. He noticed that her new middle-aged roundness of which he had only recently become aware was emphasised by a dirndl skirt and blouse in the same shade, giving her two main curves above and below a wide waist. The outfit was green, almost as grass, and had a homespun quality about it, as if she had made it herself—though he knew she had not. She had a peasant air, which intellectual women often acquire, perhaps in compensation, as if hiding a brain behind the earth-mother image, wide child-bearing hips, freckled skin. He remembered a holiday in France when the children were small and Cassie had worn her then honey-coloured hair in plaits round her head. They had eaten bread and cheese by the roadside, drunk rough red wine and camped in a tent, and she had seemed the personification of unthinking sensuality. I seek refuge in her, he thought, but she is not like me, she does not see things as I see them.

Cassie said, ‘You haven’t accepted it yet, have you? But you must. They’re married. She doesn’t live here any more.’ Her voice was tender but she spoke slowly, as if to a foreigner unfamiliar with the language.

‘I know that,’ he said, brushing away the tenderness. ‘It’s the future I’m worried about. What sort of life will she have with him? What are they going to live on?’

‘If he gets his degree,’ said Cassie placidly, ‘they should be all right. It won’t do them any harm to struggle for a bit. Look, darling, I hate to be so unoriginal, but what’s done is done. You know?’

‘Yes. And we let it happen.’

‘Well, we discussed it very thoroughly. But we didn’t have a lot of choice, did we?’

‘We could have stopped them.’

‘And had them go to court?’

‘They might have been bluffing. We should have called their bluff.’

He was not aware how grim he sounded. Cassie sat down again, saying, ‘Just a minute, are you telling me now that we made a mistake?’

‘I’m saying that they made a mistake and we helped them perpetuate it.’

Cassie looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. ‘Do you really think he’s so bad?’

‘Well, he’s hardly what I would have chosen for Prue.’

‘No. But Prue chose him for herself.’

‘Did she? Do you call that a free choice? After what he did.’

She said mildly, ‘It does take two, you know.’

‘Cass, you know I hold him entirely responsible.’

‘Then you’re just not being realistic. Prue isn’t a child and she isn’t a fool. She knew what she was doing.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Peter, he wasn’t the first.’

Manson was suddenly aware of the empty glass in his hand and the longing to break it. He put it down. ‘How do you know?’

‘She told me.’

‘When?’ He heard his own voice, quite calm and chill.

‘Before the wedding. She was trying to reassure me, I think, that she was really in love and not trapped. She said “Mummy, I wanted this to happen. I really did.” ‘

Manson felt sick.

‘I wasn’t going to tell you but now you seem so worried maybe it’s better you should know. There was more than one before Gavin. She said she was curious and she thought she was in love, all that, but she never wanted to be pregnant till she met Gavin.’

Manson said, ‘I don’t think I want to hear any more.’

‘I’m only trying to show you that she really loves him. Can he be so bad if she loves him that much? Do you credit your daughter with so little judgment?’

Manson got up abruptly and poured a fresh drink. ‘I don’t know what I credit her with. I’m not sure I know her any more. For you?’

‘Thanks.’ Cassie gave him her glass. She was frowning. ‘Darling, this has blown up awfully suddenly, hasn’t it? What was it … seeing her for the first time since the wedding that did it?’

He answered reluctantly. ‘I suppose so. Oh, I don’t know, she’s been on my mind all day, that’s all. Did she tell you she fell asleep in a bus queue this morning?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s pretty alarming, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know, is it? Did she hurt herself?’

‘No, some man caught her, she said.’

‘Well, then.’

‘Now you’re not going to tell me that falling asleep in a bus queue is a normal symptom of pregnancy.’

Cassie smiled. ‘Oh, she’s probably exaggerating a bit. I used to get pretty sleepy when I was pregnant, don’t you remember?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I did. That’s quite normal. I expect she just built up the bus queue story to make it entertaining.’ She sipped the fresh drink he had given her. ‘Or to get attention.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t be so shocked, we all do it. It’s nice to get attention. Like saying “I nearly got run over” when what we really mean is a bus passed a bit close. God knows there’s little enough drama in life.’

He said with sudden feeling, ‘Yes, that’s horribly true.’

She looked at him steadily. ‘Do you wish there was more?’

‘I don’t know. I just feel—oh Cass, I just feel so
old.’

P
RUE SAID
, ‘Well, we needn’t go if you don’t want to.’ She was lying on her back with her arms behind her head. The curtains had not been drawn and a small amount of moonlight shone across the bed. She stretched and made a purring sound. ‘I’m quite happy to stay here, you know that.’

‘Yeah, I notice you wait till my defences are down before you spill the good news.’

‘Oh, Gavin.’ She raised herself on one elbow to look at him. ‘Are you mad at me?’

‘No, I’m not mad at you, honey. It’s just not my idea of a crazy weekend, that’s all.’

‘I’ll cancel it.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, I will. I’ll ring up first thing in the morning and say we can’t come.’

‘No. Hell, we can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Think how sore they’d be. Your old man’d blow his top.’

Prue lay down again. She said firmly, ‘If you don’t want to go, I don’t want to go.’

‘Now that’s just ridiculous.’

‘Why is it ridiculous?’

‘Because they’re
your
folks, that’s why. Naturally they want to see you and naturally you want to see them. What we. really should do is sleep in a hotel round the corner, then
you could spend all day and all evening with them and I could take in a movie or something.’

‘Oh, Gavin, now
you’re
being ridiculous.’

‘Honey, you know I don’t dig this family scene.’

Prue said in a small voice, ‘I hope you’re going to dig
our
family scene.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it really?’

‘Sure it is. I can’t wait to feel the little bastard kick.’

Prue curled herself round him. ‘Oh, Gavin, I do love you.’

‘That’s good, baby, that’s good.’

‘Do you love me?’

‘Now what do you think?’

‘Do you?’

‘Honey, you know I don’t like you asking me questions like that. Sure I love you. Just don’t keep on asking.’

‘What shall we do about the weekend?’

‘That’s another question.’