An Accidental Man (20 page)

‘Of
what
?'

‘Jogging. You know. It's an American invention. It's a kind of rather leisurely running designed for elderly people with heart conditions. I have to do half an hour a day. Doctor's orders. So off I go and please forgive me, see you another time.'

Matthew started to run, first quite fast and then more and more slowly. He ran away at random through the trees, puffing along, crossing paths at random, scuffing through grass, glimpsing distant water, running away from Gracie, running away from himself, running away from the spoilt emptiness and the death of his gods.

He reached the Serpentine beside the Peter Pan statue and sat down gasping and exhausted with an agonizing stitch in his side. This had been one of the sacred places of his childhood, but no child Matthew awaited him here and the statue, defying the universe upon its bronze pyramid of animals and dragon-fly-winged fairies, looked merely grotesque and quaint. Childhood was so far away and no whiff of freshness from there came to him mingled with the cool smell of the water. The pavilions and fountains at the end of the lake minded him of China, not of childhood. Gaily painted ducks sailed under tangles of green willows but for him the scene was grey and his heart beat within him like a resonant going in an empty hall.

Gracie, running as fleetly and effortlessly as a young antelope, flew lightly towards him and plumped down on the seat beside him, smelling of flowers, not even out of breath.

‘You haven't done half an hour yet. May I run with you?'

‘No, I'm not going to do any more.'

‘I love this place, don't you? Aren't the little rabbits sweet and the mice. See how they're all shiny from being stroked by the children. Oh, Matthew, I do so want to talk to you. I haven't seen you properly at all yet. You know, you could be such a help to me. You were so nice to me when I was a little girl, I've never forgotten, and you're so wise and I do so trust you and admire you, you don't mind my saying so, do you? It's so wonderful if somebody young can be friends with somebody old, don't you think, we have so much to learn from you, I don't feel a gap at all, I feel you know me very well, maybe better than anyone, you can see right into me and right through me, you could help me to find myself. You aren't cross with me, are you? We must talk together, mustn't we, for ages and ages and ages. I do feel you could tell me the truth about myself, even if it meant being quite severe. Will you come to tea with me soon? When will you come to tea?'

Oh dear, thought Matthew, oh dear. Not now, he could not bear them now, the hot eager simple emotions of a young girl. How paradoxical that the young are so elementary and formless at a time when they feel their lives to be of a maximum significance. How could one tell them the cruel truth that one is just not interested? He shifted away from her, from her long glowing rosy-brown legs and the fresh appley smell of her dress.

‘Just now I'm going to be away for a bit, but later on perhaps —'

‘Oh and another thing, Matthew, I want you to have the Villa.'

‘The Villa?'

‘Yes, to live in. You can't go on living in a horrid hotel. The Villa's empty, you know, and I somehow
see
you there. You needn't pay any rent. You've got to have somewhere to put your vases and things, and house-hunting in London is such hell now. You could have it for the whole summer or the whole year or longer if you wanted. You see, Ludwig and I will be living in Oxford.'

‘No, no,' said Matthew.

‘Just while you're looking round for somewhere permanent then. Oh do live in the Villa, it would give me such joy! You could move in tomorrow.'

Matthew saw himself in the Villa, in quietness, closing the front door.

A large golden retriever was lifting its leg against one of Peter Pan's fairies. ‘Poor old Tinkerbell,' said Gracie with a giggle. ‘Do you believe in fairies, Matthew?'

‘Yes.' There were no more gods, but all the minor magic remained, beautiful, terrible, cruel and small.

Matthew saw the fey wild-haired face of Mavis Argyll, she floated again before him, enchantress, temptress, and as her translucent robe drifted across the scene the ducks quacked and the dogs barked and the lake water glittered amethystine beneath its flowing willows and the willows tossed their pale locks wantonly and an aeroplane bound for London airport buzzed murmurously above them like a great honey bee. Matthew opened the door of the Villa and Mavis Argyll came in.

‘I'll think about it,' he said.

‘Ludwig.'

‘Yes, chickadee?'

‘Have a milk chocolate kitten.'

‘No thank you, angel.'

‘Ludwig.'

‘Yes, honeybunch?'

‘You're not going to be very pleased with something I'm just going to tell you.'

‘Oh Lord, you're not going to —'

‘No, nothing awful. It's just that mama and papa are not going to go to the Odmores this weekend after all.'

‘Oh God! Oh no!'

‘It is a nuisance of them, isn't it?'

‘I'm not going to stand for this,' said Ludwig.

‘How do you mean? There's nothing — Oh Ludwig,
no
— We've got to go down, the cocktail party is just starting, they'll expect us, they'll look for us, and Matthew's coming specially to meet you.'

‘Bugger Matthew.'

‘Ludwig, what are you doing? You know the door doesn't lock, and —'

‘I'm going to jam it with this chair.'

‘Oh do be careful, you'll break it. Oh, Ludwig, please, mind the tea tray and — Oh dear, why did I tell you —'

‘Come on, Gracie,' said Ludwig. ‘Get undressed.' He slipped out of his jacket and began to take off his tie.

‘Not — no, no — not suddenly like this, please —'

‘Yes. Suddenly like this.' Ludwig undid his belt and dropped his trousers off. The little attic room was hot and stuffy and thick with evening sunshine.

‘Ludwig, I couldn't bear it if mama and papa came, they're certain to come to fetch us, and —'

‘Take your dress off, Gracie.'

‘And I haven't anything —'

‘I have. Come on.'

Ludwig took off his shoes and socks and pants and his shirt last of all. He stood before her naked, sweaty, hairy, erect. Gracie stood there in her silky cream-coloured party dress, her hands at her bosom. Ludwig pulled the little narrow bed out from under its white shelf and ripped the counterpane off it.

‘Ludwig,' said Gracie, ‘I've never done this before. I've never seen — before —'

‘I've done it, but it never meant anything till now,' said Ludwig. ‘Forgive me.' He was trembling. He felt ugly before her, gross, smelling of sweat and sex. She had never seemed more delicately inaccessibly desirable. He had never made love to a virgin. What would it be like? How could she not detest him? He saw her revulsion and her fear, and for a moment he thought of getting dressed again. But if he did so there would be this new barrier between them, everything would be even more difficult. And by now desire was too fierce, he was fainting with it.

‘Gracie, please, darling — Help me too — Undress. It has to be.'

Gracie unbuttoned her dress. Her things fell into a pile on the floor. Her eyes were vague with fright. She was shuddering, her teeth were chattering, and when he touched her breasts and then drew her body up against his, she felt rigid and cold though he could feel her heart striking against him. She leaned stiffly upon him, cool and dry and quivering against his hot greasy sweaty passionate flesh. ‘Oh Christ,' he said. ‘Quickly. Quickly.' She climbed awkwardly into the bed and lay passive as he knelt and eased himself upon her. Tears came out from under her closed eyelids.

‘Where are those two children?'

‘Chattermagging upstairs as usual.'

‘Who do you think will arrive first?'

‘Pinkie, you do agree about having Char?'

‘Of course, we can't let her drift off.'

‘Austin has been borrowing money off Ludwig.'

‘I wonder if we should offer him a loan.'

‘A small one.'

‘He wouldn't accept it naturally.'

‘You relieve my mind!'

‘Will Austin come?'

‘He'll come for Gracie, he always loves her Natasha act.'

‘I suppose you didn't invite Mavis and Dorina?'

‘I sort of did, but they won't come.'

‘Here's somebody. It's Hester.'

‘Hester darling, you're first!'

‘How awful, I always am!'

‘No Charles, no Sebastian?'

‘Charles is coming from the office, and Sebastian's cramming, he's so sorry.'

‘Have you heard Gracie's latest? She's let the Villa to Matthew for the summer.'

‘Why, Penny, hello. Clara, here's Penny.'

‘Clara has just been telling me Gracie has let the Villa to Matthew.'

‘I think that's sinister.'

‘Oh hello, Charles, Mollie, Geoffrey!'

‘Have you heard Gracie's latest?'

‘Pinkie, do tell the butler he needn't announce people.'

‘Where is Gracie?'

‘She's upstairs with — Oh, Mr Enstone, how good —'

‘Is Matthew coming?'

‘We hope — Oh, Oliver, good. Your mama has just arrived.'

‘I hear Karen has chucked art school.'

‘Dr Seldon, how kind —'

‘Is Karen coming?'

‘She's in the country, she's becoming a pig maid.'

‘A what?'

‘What a mob. Oh hello, Ann —'

‘Geoffrey has taken up pigs.'

‘Ann dear, how lovely you look —'

‘Gracie has let the Villa to Matthew.'

‘Pinkie, who is that young man by the door?'

‘You mean the one in turquoise?'

‘May I introduce myself. My name is Andrew Hilton.'

‘Oh, Mr Hilton, how good — Mr Hilton, Mr Enstone. Pinkie, Mr Enstone needs a drink —'

‘Where's Gracie? I thought it was all in aid of —'

‘I hear Gracie's marrying a German.'

‘Sssh, he isn't German, he's American.'

‘Is that him over there?'

‘I suppose that is a boy, it's so hard to tell these days.'

‘Why, Richard, how super to see you.'

‘Mollie Arbuthnot is opening a boutique in Chelsea.'

‘Penny, you know Richard Pargeter, don't you.'

‘What do you do, Mr Hilton?'

‘I teach Latin and Greek. What do you do, Mr Enstone?'

‘I'm afraid I'm a clergyman.'

‘Isn't Ann Colindale looking stunning.'

‘Is Matthew here?'

‘I don't think so, Oliver.'

‘Pinkie, where
are
Gracie and Ludwig?'

‘I hear Austin's son is back.'

‘He's on drugs.'

‘They all are.'

‘Penny Sayce looks ancient.'

‘You'd look ancient if your husband had just died of cancer.'

‘Poor Penny — I say, Ann, whoopee, long time no see.'

‘What with Martin dead and Oliver queer and Henrietta most peculiar —'

‘Hello, Richard, let's have lunch.'

‘Hello, Ann. Excuse me I must just —'

‘Oh hello, Richard — I'm afraid Karen isn't here.'

‘Where
is
Gracie?'

‘Oh, Char darling, you've come, how marvellous, Penny, here's Charlotte — Pinkie, give Charlotte a drink, one of her specials, Char, do sit down, I know you're not a stander-upper.'

‘Oliver Sayce lets his ten-year-old sister drive his sports car on the M1.'

‘Mollie Arbuthnot's boutique will sell only white things.'

‘There's Richard Pargeter, you know he's divorced again.'

‘Pinkie, do go and call Gracie and Ludwig, they're being so naughty.'

‘Oliver Sayce is making a fortune in the antique book trade.'

‘I'm dying to see Gracie's German.'

‘Is Sebastian here?'

‘Don't be silly.'

‘Sebastian is studying chartered accountancy.'

‘Isn't that Charlotte Ledgard?'

‘I thought she'd run away to sea.'

‘She only ran as far as Bailey's Hotel.'

‘Why, Matthew, how marvellous! Look, everybody, here's Matthew! Matthew, you remember Penny — Geoffrey, do come and — Matthew, how lovely —'

‘I think I see some familiar faces.'

‘Rather the worse for wear.'

‘Clara, I — oh hello, Matthew!'

‘Matthew, how super!'

‘I thought there was going to be a pregnant silence.'

‘Matthew is rather like a visiting general.'

‘Everyone has recovered.'

‘Clara, I think Gracie and Ludwig have gone out. I called, but there's not a sound from upstairs.'

‘Karen Arbuthnot has become a pig maiden.'

‘Matthew has got fat and old.'

‘We all have.'

‘Is that really Sir Matthew Gibson Grey?'

‘Clara, we want Gracie!'

‘I thought Matthew had become a monk.'

‘Perhaps he has, it's so hard to tell these days.'

‘Penny Sayce believes in salvation by bridge.'

‘Pinkie, are you sure that Gracie and Ludwig —'

‘Afraid my Latin's a bit rusty. Did some New Testament Greek of course.'

‘Richard, let's have lunch.'