A Period of Adjustment (10 page)

‘Well, you found, or perhaps you refound, Mr Rhys-Evans, which is most fortunate for you, and I have met someone too. “Refound”, you could also say.'

‘Oh William!
William.
I'm amazed, but I'm
really
delighted! I mean it's quite wonderful for you.' She obviously was pleased, the furrows had gone, her smile was kind, warm, relieved. There could be no problem now about a speedy, mutually agreed divorce in her mind. Her chance of
hooking Mr Rhys-Evans seemed more and more likely. ‘It is so super for you! I really am glad. Is she younger than you? Must be. Oh, super!'

‘Younger. And not a she.'

For a moment, just as she was about to sit, the menu in her hand, she froze.

‘Not a she?'

‘It's a boy. I'm afraid.'

She sat suddenly, spilled her wine. ‘A
boy!'

‘A boy. Yes.'

She put the menu on the floor at her feet. ‘William! Oh God. Well, I don't know what to say, really. I really don't. But well, if it's something which will make you happy. You have – you have thought about it? What it will mean to all your friends? To the children? William?'

I nodded kindly. ‘I have thought about it. Yes. I know what it'll mean. What I will have to give up. Change my whole life-style around. People will talk. It was completely unexpected, I never thought for one moment that I was the kind of man who could even remotely accept a situation like this, it just suddenly exploded and – you must know how it is, I was lost. I think I'm quite besotted. It's frightful.'

‘Oh, William. It is, well, it's a bit amazing. I don't quite know what to say.' She looked away helplessly. ‘But I hope I'm saying the right thing … I just pray that it'll be, for you, huge happiness. I mean this is seriously important. At your age, it is such a ghastly risk.'

‘I know. I know. A dreadful risk. Don't think I haven't spent hours worrying about it. After all, as you very well know, I'm over forty – well over forty – and I'm not really in the habit of, well… you know?'

Her warmth was suddenly radiating like an electric fire, her smile generous and caring, a Botticelli Madonna. She put a hand on my arm sweetly.

‘I
have
to be happy for you. I
have
to be. Simply have to be. You said that, well, like Eric and me, you had refound this person. Refound?'

‘Yes. Amazing. I've known him for years. Ten almost, to be exact.'

‘Ten!' Her good green eyes were wide with surprise. ‘Ten! And you never said?'

‘I never knew. Was quite unaware.'

‘Oh, my dear. How extraordinary. Then is it anyone I … anyone I would know?'

‘Oh yes. Very well. Giles,' I said, as the door opened and the pattering waiter asked if we were ready to order.

‘A cruel and witless thing to do! Honest to God. Winding me up. You really
are
bloody, I feel a complete idiot and that delights you, I know.'

‘Not in the least! Helen, dear, you simply misunderstood. I haven't lied or been underhand, I didn't try to make you feel a “complete idiot”, not at all. I just told you exactly what had happened, how I felt, that's all. I admit it is a surprise. It took me by surprise. Totally. I didn't want Giles hanging around here while I was trying to discover what had happened to James. God knows I didn't. The last thing. And I'll admit, freely and with full apology far too late, that I realize now that I was a bloody awful father to them both.'

‘Oh great! At last! Now we grovel.'

‘I'm not grovelling, my dear, simply stating facts, I was too busy with my work, flogging the books, with trying to make a secure place for us all to live, to pay for school fees, mortgages, food and clothes – all that junk. Stuff I had never even considered before you and I met. I was a late developer, a happy bachelor, and I didn't honestly know the rules of the game. For that I am deeply contrite. I am going to do my very best now to make up for past failure. Okay?
Will you accept that? Remember, you sent him out to me. By Air France. To be collected.'

She prodded her already congealing half of an omelette, pushed it to the side of her plate, reached for the cheese board. ‘Not much I can say, is there? It's a great moment to suddenly see the light. You hardly knew the children. Oh, a couple of ghastly holidays in some god-awful barns in France, the obligatory picnics on bitter beaches. You were as much fun to them as an abscess.'

‘I know, and I am apologizing.'

‘Ten, twelve, years too late.'

‘Not too late. Just in time. Perhaps.'

‘Well. The sooner we start on the alterations the better.' She cut a wedge of Pont L'Évêque, reached for the basket of sliced baguette, spread a piece with a lot of butter. Dottie, I vaguely thought, would not have approved at all, but the sharpness of Helen's voice banished reverie. ‘And you had better start on your halo-polishing now. Get your backside on to a seat and start battering away at your “best friend”, Mr Typewriter. You're going to have to dig deep into your pocket to pay for some more school fees, for your “refound” son, Giles.' She bit into the bread as if it had been my throat.

‘Will I indeed? What have you in mind? Eton, Harrow, Gordonstoun?'

‘Deadly witty! I don't remember you putting him down for any of those at his conception.'

‘No. Agreed. I did not.'

‘God knows you planned everything else for that event. You even got yourself pissed. Desperation time in the double bed. Talk about donated sperm! God!'

‘Giles was a final effort to get us back together. Remember? Deliberate.'

‘The “bicycle patch”, you said. Your deathless prose, not mine, and then when he arrived hardly a glance in his
direction for sodding years. You do make me
so
bloody angry sometimes.' She took a large gulp of white wine, her eyes wide with rage. She looked very fine; and was furious when I said so.

‘What, then, have you in mind. Harrow, and so on, apart?'

‘Eason Lodge. It's terribly good, expensive, but worth it. The Cornwalls sent Hector and Bobby there. They were very pleased.'

‘Bully for the Cornwalls. Does anyone know? I mean does the school know? Does Giles know?'

‘Not yet, and yes, the school does know. Dr Lang is extremely pleasant, so is his wife. He wants to see the child, obviously, as soon as possible, but I got all his reports and so on from St David's, and he was quite impressed. He also spoke with Mr Loder at St David's, who was very reassuring. Anyway, Giles has a place, all being equal, and he could start in the autumn term. September. That'll give us time.'

‘Where is this school? Would I know?' I poured myself a brimming glass of Sauvignon. There wasn't very much else to do at the table. I wasn't hungry and I had to sit there listening to this tarradiddle from Helen. Until I was ready.

‘I don't know if
you
know it. It's near Burnham Beeches, so it'll be very useful for weekends. He will board only during the week, and Annie is already over at Chalfont, so that's a huge help. Easy to get to for, you know, speech days, sports days, the school plays, carol-singing … that sort of thing.'

‘Wonderfully easy. And everyone will be at Burnham Beeches together then? I mean you and, whatsisname, Eric Thingummy, Giles and Annie.'

She did not flinch, just said quietly, ‘
His
name is Eric and
hers
is Annicka. Yes, we'll all be together. They each have a lovely room up on the top, views over the woods and fields, lovely.
And
a bathroom each, huge luxury! You must admit
it'll be an improvement for them? Country air, all that stuff. Super.' She took another, less violent, bite out of the baguette. ‘I have been very good and sent all my really personal things, clothes, books, my typewriter, processor, most of the children's things, down to Mummy's. She's got loads of space for storage. It makes it easier when we get to the packing-up stage. I've tentatively, only tentatively, put the house with Andrews and Fry. They're reliable, safe. It really rather depends on just when you'll manage to get back. Now that you've cleared everything up here.'

‘As soon as possible. I suppose. One or two things here to set straight and then I'll get back. You really
have
been busy. Haven't wasted a moment, have you?'

‘Well, it seemed the sensible thing to do, and especially now you've decided to move here. I'm a very good planner, as you know.'

‘I do indeed.'

‘Eric thinks so too, which is vastly encouraging. He feels that I have this tremendous flair for organization. That's what he needs, someone to organize things in the company.'

‘Obviously that's what he's getting.'

‘Seems a waste not to use my potential, doesn't it? I mean what else would I do? The children are pretty well grown up now, you and I have come to the parting of the ways, amicably, thank the Lord, and I really can't see me spending the rest of my days in bloody Simla Road. I have grown to loathe it.' She pushed her plate away. ‘Sorry, but I do, and there is no point now in trying to pretend otherwise.' She got up and went over to the desk to press the button for room service. ‘Coffee? Some tea? A tisanne, or a brandy? Something?'

‘No, nothing, thank you. But there is something else …'

She was about to press the little button, stopped. Her hand frozen in space, index finger extended. ‘What else? What “something”?'

‘Well, you are right, we did agree it would all be amicable, the divorce, but I am not absolutely certain that it will be uncontested.'

She turned and looked at me, her hand fell to her side. ‘What on earth do you mean? We agreed. Ages ago … weeks ago. We both agreed!'

‘I know. But there is a small point to consider. You may not care to hear it, but Giles won't be going back to London, and he won't be going to Eason Lodge and he won't set a bloody foot near Burnham Beeches. That's all.'

She sat slowly in a Louis chair, hands in her lap. ‘Have you lost your mind? What on earth are you talking about? Giles must do as he's bloody well told.'

‘He won't be told to do anything. By you. And if you find that disagreeable and something you'd rather consider, then do. But he stays with me. He will not come back to you. That's quite definite. Understood? So if you want to contest any little thing just say so now. Time is getting short. Right?'

For a moment she was white with anger, then she sat back in the chair, her hands on the arms, crossed her legs casually, swung a foot. ‘And who, may I ask, made this astounding decision?'

‘Giles, at the start. Then I did. After he explained why.'

‘What did he explain? I think you have taken leave of your senses. Try and be calm, William, and just explain to
me
what is going on. I'm rather slow, it seems.'

‘He was rather distressed by Eric Whatever's pony-tail. To start with …'

‘His pony-tail! You
are
mad!'

‘The way it spread out. When he undid it. All over the pillow.'

She was still as granite, silent.

‘On
my
side of the bed. Understand?'

She put a hand to her mouth, looked away, biting the side of a finger.

‘He also found it very difficult to come to terms with other … little factors.'

Then she swung round. ‘What other little factors?'

‘A Mr McKenna? A Mr Price? I believe they are called “uncles”?'

She was visibly shaken, but managed, heroically, to sustain her cool and her dignity. ‘And you believe all this rubbish? Tittle-tattle from an over-sensitive child? He's ten, for God's sake – nine. Of course I have friends, everyone does in my business. Douggie McKenna, Ian Price are good chums.'

‘On my side of the bed too? And Eric?'

Suddenly she was flustered, waved a hand above her head. ‘The silly little idiot should never have barged in like that.'

‘Should he have knocked, perhaps? At his mother's door. In his own house?'

‘It wasn't locked.' She started to flounder badly, clasped her hands on her thigh.

‘Neither, I gather, was the bathroom on occasion. Am I right?'

Then she collapsed into silent tears, hands to her face, head bowed, shoulders shaking. The traffic from the promenade thundered, so I wouldn't have heard her anyway. I got up and pressed the button for room service and she fled to the privacy of the bedroom, slamming the door. Pattering Feet arrived, tut-tutted at the half-eaten meal, started to fold the table. I ordered coffee and a bottle of Heine, and he wheeled it all away. I wandered to the windows, looked down at the sparkling sea, the racing cars, skimming windsurfers, a boy running with a kite and elderly women dragging little dogs on thin leashes. Someone rolled past on skates. I'd gone too far. I had not meant to use the bathroom
business until I hit a really sticky patch. But I'd just snapped and let it rip. No use now pretending anything.

Pattering Feet brought in a tray with the Heine and two brandy balloons, set all down and bowed himself away, closing the door. The balloons had a large gold ‘N' on their sides. I poured myself a stiff three inches in a whisky glass, tapped on the bedroom door, called her name quietly. She was wiping her nose roughly with a tissue, dabbed at the skin under her eyes. I offered her a large brandy, in a whisky glass too, which she took silently. Then she went and sat on the high-backed gilded settee. She chucked a couple of cushions on to the floor, lay back.

‘I didn't just meet Eric at the Cornwalls' for supper. Surprise, surprise. It wasn't like that at all. I remet him years ago. About four anyway. Behind your back. There wasn't a sudden pick-up. No one knew. The children. You. Least of all you. But it was very tidy, careful, it never harmed Giles or Annicka.'

‘Until now. And, anyway, I knew.'