Damage (6 page)

‘Bye, darling.’

‘Bye-bye.’

It’s so hideously easy, I thought. To tell her I was in Paris was risky, I could easily have concealed it. The new and strange shape I was assuming was hardening each day. The facile liar, the violent lover, the betrayer, would allow no return journey. My path was clear. I knew I was on a headlong rush to destruction. But I was certain I could control and plan each step of the way — with a mixture of restrained joy and cold deception that I began to find intoxicating. I felt not a shred of pity for anyone. That was the essence of my power.

I bathed and changed. I brushed a flaking mosaic of semen from the
chaise-longue.
Having paid the bill I left for Charles de Gaulle. I wondered what I would say if I came across Anna and Martyn? Anna could be relied upon to dissemble. Could I deliver a perfect performance? Would she despise me if I failed? My love token is a garland of lies, I thought. She has crowned me with lies since the day I met her. But in the centre of my crown, like a diamond, rests the only truth that matters to me: Anna.

Luck stayed with me, clearing my path. With an almost delicate ease, I left Paris in a triumph of moral degradation.

E
IGHTEEN

‘y
OUR SON IS
on the line, sir.’

‘Put him through.’

‘Hello, Dad. Sorry to disturb you in your office.’

‘Martyn, how are you?’

‘Great. We’ve just got back from Paris.’

‘Nice time?’

‘Well, yes. Anna was a little unwell, so we came back early.’

‘Unwell?’

‘Yes. Stomach cramps, violent headache. She went to see her old doctor. Then we left.’

‘How is she now?’

‘Oh, she’s fully recovered. Thanks for asking. I rather appreciate you always being so … sensitive … about her. Mum doesn’t really like Anna.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she does. Anna is an interesting girl.’

‘I think that’s what Mum doesn’t like. She’d like me to be with another version of Sally, I suppose. You know, twenty-two, very English, et cetera, et cetera …’

‘Not very flattering to your sister, all this.’

‘Oh, Dad, I love Sally. You know what I mean.’

‘Yes. Yes I do.’

‘I know you’re busy, Dad, but I just wanted to tell you I’ve been offered a job on the
Sunday
— ’ He mentioned one of the country’s leading newspapers. ‘I’m Deputy Political Editor.’

‘I’m impressed. Congratulations.’

‘I’d rather like to take you and Mum out to dinner. To celebrate. Thursday possible?’

I hesitated. ‘Yes probably. I may have to leave early to get back to the House.’

‘That’s fine. So Thursday at Luigi’s. I’m inviting Sally too. And that new chap of hers. So you see, brotherly feelings are still strong!’

He laughed, and rang off.

‘Alistair Stratton on the line, sir.’

‘Just hold him a moment, can you, Jane?’

I needed to recover. Not only from the sudden shock of talking to Martyn, but from the conversation itself, which had disturbed me. I was not the only person who was changing. Martyn the man was emerging more strongly.

‘Put Alistair through,’ I sighed. The day then trapped me in its iron bars of phone calls and meetings, letters to read, letters to write, decisions to make, promises to break. And underneath its structure lay a growing sense of alarm, and a sudden gnawing fear of Martyn.

N
INETEEN

W
E WERE AN
impressive-looking group as we entered the restaurant.

Edward had joined us. In his dark blue suit, he had the air of a man who knows that his presence enhances every gathering.

Ingrid was in subtle shades of grey, understated, elegant; certain that she was, as always, perfectly dressed.

Sally exuded a sort of ‘feet on the ground’ decency. It would always defeat her mother’s efforts to change her English-rose prettiness into something more
soignee.
A daughter’s penchant for Laura Ashley effectively puts paid to any mother’s attempts to encourage sophistication. I had been a frequent onlooker during teenage battles. I saw with pleasure that Sally, the woman, had kept her sartorial loyalties.

Her boyfriend was blond and sporty-looking. He wore a suit that observed the convention of matching jacket and trousers, while managing somehow to mock the tradition, with a zig-zag pattern of blacks and greys.

I studied each person slowly, carefully, in order to avoid turning my attention to Anna and Martyn. It was possible to stand close to Anna and yet not look at her. It was even possible to receive a fleeting kiss on the cheek from Anna and still not see her.

Martyn took charge of the seating. I was on Anna’s right. ‘No couples tonight,’ joked Martyn. To my right was Sally, beside Martyn and Ingrid, then Sally’s boyfriend and Edward. I gave a sideways glance at Anna, who seemed to be wearing something in dark blue. It made her hair look even darker. A line from an old song came back to me, ‘A dark girl dressed in blue’.

We ordered. The guests carefully and silently examined prices before decisions were taken.

‘Well, that’s over,’ said Edward. ‘What a pleasure to have been invited, Martyn. And congratulations on your new job.’

We all raised our glasses to Martyn.

‘Anna, you’re also a journalist.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you and Martyn meet at work?’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘How nice,’ said Edward, glancing coolly at her. He had a ‘Don’t be too clever with me, young woman’ look in his eye.

‘Do you like your work?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why?’

‘It suits me,’ said Anna.

‘How?’

‘This sounds like the Inquisition, Grandpa.’

‘I’m so sorry. Was I being rude?’

‘Never,’ said Martyn. ‘Anna’s an excellent journalist.’

‘Clearly you are too,’ said Edward. ‘Do you think it’s for life, this work of yours?’

‘Yes. I like the world of newspapers. It’s exciting —copy-dates, seeing my stuff in the paper.’

‘Hoping people will read it,’ offered Sally.

‘People do read it, Sally. I know exactly where I’m going.’ He looked at Anna as he spoke.

I had to turn away quickly. For a second I had seen the passion in his eyes.

‘Father, Martyn has always been certain that journalism was what he wanted.’

‘Yes. But then people can change direction quite late, can’t they?’ Edward looked at me.

‘Politics you mean,’ said Martyn. ‘God, no, I don’t want to be a politician. It wouldn’t suit me, Grandpa. I leave that to you and Dad.’

‘Oh, but it would suit you. You are articulate, very handsome, yes, and very clever.’

‘And very, very uninterested,’ said Martyn emphatically. ‘I want the kind of freedom I couldn’t find in political life, always toeing the party line.’

‘Well, now,’ said Edward. ‘What about the line of the chap who owns the paper?’

‘Accurate reporting of an event is not normally at risk. It’s only in the leader that any proprietorial bias is seriously taken into account,’ said Martyn.

‘What do you think about that, Anna?’ asked Sally’s boyfriend suddenly.

‘Oh, I’m just an observer,’ said Anna. ‘I observe carefully. I write truthfully, exactly what I have observed. It gives me pleasure.’

‘Observation is Anna’s strength,’ said Martyn. ‘She misses nothing … nothing. I don’t know anyone more acute than Anna.’

I sensed Anna’s bowed head. I looked at Ingrid and saw her eyes narrow. Then a look of resignation passed over her face. Our eyes met. She’s got our son, they seemed to say. And more, I thought, and more.

‘Now, young man, let’s turn the third degree on you. What’s Nick Robinson’s son doing working for TV? What is this generation of media slaves up to? We’ve had newspapers and the delights of the observer’s position. Let’s hear it for television. What’s its attraction for you?’

‘Power, eventually, I hope.’

‘Power! Well now. That’s something I can understand. How are you going to get power, young man?’

‘Information … can change the world. I don’t think politicians … I mean …’ He stumbled in a minefield of potential insult. ‘Well, I don’t think they can really change the way people think about life, and the world. Whereas television can, and does. I really want in time … I really want to make feature programmes … about social issues which …’

‘That used to be the province of the artist. To change lives and souls through art.’

Everyone looked at me, except Anna, who, I sensed, did not move her head.

‘Good heavens,’ said Sally. ‘What a serious group we are. Art, politics, the media. This is meant to be a celebration party for Martyn.’

Edward laughed. ‘I’ve had such a good time putting all you young people through your paces. I’d like you all to come to Hartley for the weekend of the twentieth … for my birthday. Just the family, and the about-to-be family.’ Edward smiled at Anna and Jonathan.

‘How marvellous. You can go, darling, can’t you?’ asked Ingrid.

‘Possibly. I’ll have to check.’

‘Anna?’

‘I think so. Yes, thank you.’

Sally and Jonathan agreed. The thought of a weekend with Anna and Martyn in Hartley opened a world of terror and possibilities, and joy.

The meal meandered slowly through to a teasing sweetness at the end. I had survived close on three hours without by as much as a murmur betraying myself, or Anna.

Perhaps the devil stood behind me, and delivered me successfully to evil.

T
WENTY

‘I
FELT PROUD THIS
evening. Content. I felt the power of being a mother. “Look on my works, oh ye mighty,”’ Ingrid sighed.

We were in the car. The evening had ended properly, with manly insistence from Martyn that the bill was for him, and admiring acquiescence from his father and grandfather.

‘Did you feel like the paterfamilias?’

‘Mmm.’

‘It’s very satisfying, isn’t it?’

‘Very.’

‘We are quiet people, you and I. We suit each other. I feel very happy tonight. You make me very happy. Do I tell you that often enough? Perhaps not. But I hope you know. I don’t see many happy marriages around. I’ve very grateful for mine … and for you.’

I smiled.

‘It’s been a long time. You and me,’ I said.

‘Yes. Two lovely children, a contented marriage. It’s almost too good to be true. But it is true. It’s so substantially true. I like what I felt tonight, the substance of it. I felt I could almost reach out and touch it. Happiness. The right kind of happiness.’

‘Is there a right kind?’

‘Yes. Yes, I think so. I’ve always felt so. I’ve always known what I wanted. A husband, children, peace and progress. I’m very proud of your career you know. Very, very proud. I’m not ambitious for myself … I’ve always had money … but I do my bit, don’t I? The constituency and the charities, the dinner parties.’ She laughed. ‘Do I fulfil my role, my public role?’

‘Indeed you do. You always have.’

‘So here we are then. It’s a very, very good place in our lives. I feel the future, your future, our future, could be very interesting. When I was at Hartley, Daddy said how highly thought of you are. He says you’re regarded as a “coming man”. Even though I say so myself, you are rather perfect aren’t you? Terrific on television. Decent, very intelligent, with a wonderful wife’ — she giggled — ‘and two utterly charming children. Perfect. It’s all perfect. Except for Anna. She is a very, very strange girl, don’t you think?’ Ingrid was suddenly alert.

‘Why?’

‘I like quiet people, I can’t stand super-friendly, outgoing types … like that Rebecca girl he had for a while. But Anna’s quietness is more mysterious. She is almost sinister. I mean, what do we know about her? She met Martyn through work. She’s thirty-three, and very well off. It’s ridiculous. For example, what did she do all those years before Martyn?’

‘I don’t know.’ I glanced studiously into my mirror. I could not be tripped. No ‘how did you know?’ errors in this potential interrogation.

‘You see! We know nothing. This girl may very well become our daughter-in-law, and we know nothing about her.’

I breathed deeply. Slowly now, I said to myself, slowly.

‘Martyn has had so many girlfriends, Ingrid. Anna is just another one. Maybe a bit more serious. But marriage? No, I don’t think so.’

‘Well, you are utterly wrong, I’m afraid. He mentioned his trust fund the other day, when he was arranging the dinner. He comes into his capital when he marries. Remember, his promotion to a national newspaper gives him great confidence. Can’t you see that boy is seriously planning his future? God knows, you can’t stop a man in love having what he wants. If Anna wants him, she’s going to be his wife. Of course he most certainly wants her. I think as parents we should at least try to get to know her better. And we should find out more about her past. Have you questioned Martyn yet? I’ve tried. It’s quite difficult. He says he knows all he needs to know. However, I got some information from him about her parents. He says they’re very respectable. Her father was in the diplomatic service. The parents divorced, and her mother remarried. An American writer, I gather. Her father has a second family too.’

‘That doesn’t sound too terrible, does it?’

‘No, but there’s something else, I’m sure. For example, has Anna been married before?’

‘How extraordinary. I never thought of that.’

‘Well, you’ve hardly given her any thought at all, have you?’

‘No. I suppose not.’ I breathed slowly, determinedly.

‘Men! Well, think about it. She’s thirty-three, it’s perfectly possible. In fact, it’s surprising if she hasn’t been. Maybe she has children. You never know nowadays. Think of Beatrice, her children stayed with their father in Italy.’

‘I’m certain there are no children.’ The doctor in me spoke.

‘What? You know nothing about her, but you’re certain she has no children.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, just a very strong guess. Come on, let’s have a night-cap at home.’

She put her arms around me when we got to our room. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have let Anna spoil a lovely evening. Did I tell you how very impressive you looked this evening?’ She kissed me. ‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘Darling, let’s go to our lovely bed. I can see that look in your eyes —I like it.’