Girl's Guide to Kissing Frogs (41 page)

‘Couldn’t you wear gloves?’ suggested Dimpsie. She was giving Harrison Ford his bottle. Nan had said she was that flaked out she’d rather not. Though she had not seen her baby for two days, she had given him only the briefest of glances before embarking on the tale of her own woes. I did not condemn her for this, nor, I’m sure, did Dimpsie. At sixteen
Nan was only a child herself and it was evident that her spirits were depressed.

‘I’m allorgic to latex,’ said Nan glumly. ‘T’e woman who owns t’e salon, Miss Diane, she’s as hard as nails. She was always tellin’ me I’d have to smarten op. I’d like to see
her
look somet’in’ on five pound a week and livin’ in a caravan and all where t’ere ent nowhere to hang yor clothes.’ Poor Nan did look rather untidy in a fake leopard-skin coat that had large bald patches. The heels of her boots were scuffed down to the white plastic. ‘Someone told Miss Diane me dad was a tinker. T’at’s why she didn’t like me.’

‘People are so full of ridiculous prejudices,’ said Dimpsie kindly. ‘I know how it hurts. I’ve often been looked down on because I don’t dress and behave like the stereotypical doctor’s wife.’

Nan looked surprised. ‘But you talk posh and you live in a big house.’

‘Not by some standards.’ Dimpsie smiled. ‘Anyway, you mustn’t take it to heart, Nan. All that matters is that you should work hard and do unto others as you would be done by and be true to your gods. You must set your own goals and try to live up to them—’

‘Is t’at real?’ Nan interrupted, looking at my engagement ring.

‘Yes.’ I slipped the big square diamond from my finger and held it out to her to try on. ‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s beautiful.’ It looked sadly incongruous on her thin reddened hand. Her face grew yet more mournful. ‘If Rhett woulda married me I’d’ve had a ring like it.’

‘Rhett?’

‘Harrison Ford’s dad.’

‘Surely that couldn’t be his real name?’

‘The only Rhett I’ve ever heard of is Rhett Butler from
Gone
with the Wind
,’ said Dimpsie.

‘That’s right,’ said Nan. ‘He called me Scarlett. Said it was
more romantic than Nan. But I think his name really is Rhett because I cried when I was telling him I thought I’d fallen for a baby and he gave me his hanky and there was an R sewn on one corner.’

‘How many times did you meet him, dear?’ asked Dimpsie in a gentle tone.

‘I donnaw, six or seven times. The first time he took me to a pub for lunch. The other times he brought a bottle of bubbly wiv him.’ She looked resentfully at Harrison Ford who was dropping asleep in Dimpsie’s plump, freckled arms. ‘’Twasn’t much, was it, for a lifetime of being stock wiv a baby?’

‘He won’t always be a baby,’ I pointed out.

‘Did he visit you at the caravan?’ asked Dimpsie.

‘Naw. We used to meet in the old pele tower on Waterbury hill. I was up there one day havin’ a fag, Dad goes mad if he catches me smokin’. I like it up there. There’s a white rose that grows round de door that’s ever so pretty. Rhett came walkin’ his dog. He said I looked like a queen in among the roses and we got talkin’. Then we kissed.’ Nan giggled. Evidently it was a happy memory in a rather sad life. ‘Upstairs in the tower there’s a bed. Really romantic it is, wiv a wooden bit over the top and blue curtains hangin’ down. Someone’s swept it out and put sheets and all, a bit cobwebby but wit’ real lace. Rhett said he thought one of the shepherds had a lass and he didn’t see why we shouldn’t make use of it.’ She giggled again and her pretty little face became enchanting. ‘He said it was a nest for lovers everywhere.’

The pele tower. Rafe had gone upstairs while I waited below, unable to follow because my leg was in plaster. I remembered the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards as he had walked up and down, up and down. Then we had gone outside and someone had taken a shot at us. Could that have been Jode? Not a shot to kill – that would have been inconsistent with his avowed pacifism, but perhaps to warn? It wasn’t the first time a dreadful suspicion had sidled into my thoughts like an unwelcome visitor.
Before I had always firmly shown it the door, but while Nan was talking it crept back in and took up permanent residence.

‘Here’s your ring, Marigold.’ Nan put it into my hand. ‘When’s the happy day?’

‘Not till September. It seems silly really to wait that long. I mean, if one’s going to do the thing one may as well do it at once. But there’s a lot to organize.’

‘And it shows people you aren’t in a rush to marry because there’s a babby on the way,’ said Nan, with surprising worldly wisdom. ‘I’ll stand in the churchyard and watch you come out in all your finery and chock confetti, shall I?’

‘I very much hope you and your father will be guests at the wedding,’ said Dimpsie. I caught her eye and she looked, for her, quite stern, as though reading some protest in mine. Here she wronged me, for my objection to having Jode and Nan at my wedding had nothing to do with snobbery.

‘Eh?’ said Nan in amazement. ‘Dad and me at a grand weddin’? But we don’t have t’e clothes! And what would people say if t’ey found t’emselves kneelin’ in chorch next to a tinker and a tinker’s brat?’

‘In the sight of God we are all equal,’ said Dimpsie sententiously. ‘Though of course even in church no one believes that for a moment, such is the beastliness of human nature. Marigold and I would be delighted if you’d both come, wouldn’t we, darling?’

She looked at me and kicked my leg under the table.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Nan, how would you like to be a waitress?’

‘Good morning, Marigold.’ Conrad was crouching with his back to me in the far corner of the hermit’s cave. He was busy with a trowel and did not turn round.

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘How did you know it was
I
, surely?’

‘Oh, all right. How
did
you know?’

‘The footsteps were light, obviously female, and quick, obviously someone young. And you put down your toe first like a dancer.’

‘Gosh! Really?’ I was impressed by this display of Holmesian detection.

‘Not really. I knew it was you because you are the only person besides myself who does not fear the terrible drop into the abyss. Fritz has tried it once but had to be blindfolded for the return journey. Golly and Isobel, when brought to the brink, have refused altogether.

‘What a shame. And it’s so lovely.’ I sat on the mossy rock and breathed in the delicious damp, sparkling air. The sun transformed the droplets of water into brilliants. In front of me was a table, neatly constructed, with rustic poles for legs and planks of wood for a top.

‘How did you manage to get this here?’

He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I brought it in pieces and assembled it in situ of course.’

‘You mean you made it yourself?’

‘And why should I not be able to hit a nail with a hammer? You would have me not only dining on roast birds of paradise but fanned by eunuchs and bathed in unguents by women of the seraglio.’ He stood up and turned round, arching his back to ease the muscles. ‘Pour the coffee, will you? My hands, as you see, are dirty.’ He displayed palms thick with cement.

On the table were two thermos flasks and two cups. I poured coffee from one flask and added hot milk from the other.

‘What’s in this basket?’

‘Breakfast. Help yourself.’

I unfolded the napkin inside the basket. The round dimpled cakes, sprinkled with icing sugar, were still warm. I bit into one eagerly. It was like a doughnut, light and sweet with apricot jam in the middle.

‘I wonder, do you think Fritz would give me the recipe? I’m planning a dietary revolution in Gaythwaite.’

As I ate the doughnut and drank the strong sweet coffee, I told Conrad about the Singing Swan. He had just returned from a week in Bavaria, so he knew nothing about the letter from the divisional environmental health officer that had flopped like an exhausted bird of ill omen onto Mrs Peevis’s doormat several days after the visit of Maisie and Bert. Conrad gave my story his full attention and seemed to find Mrs Peevis and Dale and the customers amusing, which encouraged me to exaggerate the ghastliness of my experiences just a little. Conrad laughed as much as I could have wished.

‘I expect you think I’m crazy to even think of trying to make a go of it.’

‘Crazy?’ He took up a cloth to wipe his hands and came to sit next to me at the table. ‘No, I think you are bored.’

‘Not at all! I’m fond of Mrs Peevis and she’s so worried about
money and her hips are bad and it seems a shame to miss a good opportunity. We’re all to get a share of the profits if there are any. Dimpsie and I are practically beggars, you know. I can say that now because you aren’t rich any more so you can’t possibly think I’m asking you for money.’

Conrad gave me one of his speciality looks. Opaque, I think is the word. I found myself saying, with unwonted truthfulness, ‘All right, I
am
bored. But only because I’m used to working hard and always having something to work
for
. Dancing was my life. I hardly even thought about anything else and of course I miss it. Naturally once I’m married to Rafe I shan’t be bored at all. There’ll be a thousand and one things to do. Evelyn’s going to teach me how to run the house and how to garden. And there’ll be committees and good causes galore. She took me to a WI meeting the other day. That’s a sort of society of country women, supposed to promote tolerance and fellowship. Evelyn’s the chairman of the Northumberland Federation and she does the rounds of the various branches. I could see at once that they all hate and fear her. Part of the evening’s entertainment consists of a lecture, and this time it was about arboretums, given by a friend of Evelyn’s. That’s trees, you know.’

‘Thank you, yes. It is the same word.’

‘Is it really? Well, anyway, the man giving the talk was rather grand and he used a lot of Latin names and everyone yawned and fidgeted. Except Evelyn who was taking notes in a furious scribble. He said that every garden, however small, ought to have a plantation of oaks. Then we had tea and Evelyn made a sharp little speech to the effect that UHT milk and Mr Kipling’s Viennese Whirls were not in the spirit of the founding ethos of the Women’s Institute. There was a lot of muttering and dark looks and one woman, perhaps the organizer of the refreshments, went away in tears.’

‘I can hardly believe she was allowed this autocracy.’

‘Oh, I know
you’ve
never been frightened of her. And, of course, after giving her that chestnut basket you could spit in
her eye and she’d go on adoring you. We’re all getting sick of her singing your praises.’

Conrad looked satisfied, even a little smug. ‘Go on about the society. Evelyn is a woman among millions.’

‘Well, then the minutes were read – only it seemed like hours, they were so dull – and Evelyn judged the jars of marmalade. She told them she would send the recipe her own cook uses as the results were superior. After that, we departed to a chorus of barely restrained boos and hisses. Honestly you may laugh,’ Conrad took full advantage of my invitation, ‘but it was agony being so unpopular.’

‘So,’ he said when he had finished laughing, ‘you expect that your energies will be fully absorbed by such entertainments? After the newness wears off you will be bored and annoyed and as out of place as a leopard in a basket by the fire. You must be very much in love to make this sacrifice.’

I looked away, out to the sky that was turning a delicious shade of blue as the sun rose higher. ‘Yes, I am.’

Conrad made a clicking noise with his tongue to express impatience. ‘The more I think of it, the more criminal it seems. To throw away rare talent and hard-won achievement for any cause, even for something worthwhile – to cure diseases or to relieve ignorance or poverty – I doubt the rightness of it. But merely to act a part according to an inflexible set of tribal rules that serve only to maintain the artificial barriers of a pernicious class system, that seems to me the height of stupidity.’

This plain-speaking stung.

‘I love Rafe and I want to make him happy. Isn’t it better to think more about other people’s happiness than your own?’

‘I do not say anything against you marrying Rafe, but why must you give up dancing? Cannot you combine the two things?’

‘It’s quite impossible. Besides, you don’t know if I have
any
talent, let alone a rare one.’

‘Sebastian said you had the capability to become first-rate.’

‘Did he? Did he really?’ I felt excited. Whatever his short-comings as a lover, I had the greatest respect for Sebastian’s judgement in matters balletic. ‘He never told me that.’

‘He is not the kind of man to give bargaining power to his dancers, I imagine.’

‘No.’ The euphoria was fading fast. ‘Anyway, it’s too late. Come to that, Golly said you could have become a professional pianist.’

‘Perhaps, yes. But I do not have the temperament. One must give up so much of one’s life. Practice, practice, practice. And then travelling all the time at the wink and shout of concert engagements.’

‘Beck and call, we say.’

Conrad looked annoyed and I realized that, though he considered it necessary to correct me, he did not like the favour returned. ‘As I was saying, the necessity for a performing artist to dedicate himself to that one thing alone would not suit me. Besides, there are so many truly fine pianists who compete for the few seats on the platform. There is no need for another one.’

‘But can you really be happy not making the attempt?’

‘Really I can.’ He looked me squarely in the face to convince me he was speaking the truth. We were so close that I could see the light from the mouth of the cave reflected in each lustrous eye as a tiny silver triangle. ‘My intention is to write. A writer may live in the world; he may read, observe, reflect, experiment, without obstruction to his work. Everything is water to his mill. No, I remember, you say gristle.’ He frowned. ‘Peculiar though it sounds.’ I remained tactfully silent. ‘I have a collection of short stories that are to be published in Germany this autumn. Soon I shall begin a novel.’

‘You
are
a dark horse. Why didn’t you say? About the short stories, I mean.’

‘A dark horse? That means?’

‘You’re always telling me I ought to be more truthful.’

‘I have not lied. I
never
lie.’

‘You fibbed to Sebastian about Golly liking me so much.’

‘Not at all. She does like you.’

‘But not as much as you made out. Now Rafe’s convinced she’s gay.’

‘Of course she is.’ I must have looked startled for he added, ‘But you need not be alarmed. Golly has too much sense to expose herself to rejection and ridicule by pursuing a girl less than half her own age.’

‘I really had no idea. All right, I admit you didn’t exactly lie about the stories, you just kept quiet about them. But you said we all ought to be transparent. I think you’re one of the least transparent people I ever met. I can’t tell what you’re thinking at all. With most people you can tell when they’re cross or embarrassed or putting on a good face, however hard they try to hide it, but not you. That’s what a dark horse is.’

He permitted himself a small smile and I saw that he was not displeased by the sobriquet.

‘
Tu, was ich dir sage, und nicht, was ich selber tue
.’
*

I liked hearing him speak German. His voice became deeper and softer and less inflected than when he spoke English. It reminded me how unlike we were in every way – in nationality, race, education and experience. These differences intensified for me the elusive and mysterious side of his character that were such an important part of his fascination.

‘What does that mean?’

‘You have jam on your cheek.’

He took a clean handkerchief from his coat pocket and gave it to me. I wiped my face quickly. I had quite a pile of handkerchiefs at home, waiting to be laundered.

‘We have strayed from the point. Now I have swollen your head with praise, do you not reconsider the abandonment of your career?’

‘But even if I danced day and night without stopping except
to put on new pairs of pointe shoes, I might not succeed. You’ve no idea how difficult it is. So much depends on luck as well as hard work—’

‘You might not succeed but you will have tried! It is offered to you to experience the sublime in realizing the near perfection of your art!’ He raised his voice and lifted his finger in admonition and looked so like the statue of Prudence on the bridge that, had I dared, I might have giggled. ‘And for
what
do you throw all this away? To sit by the hearth and contemplate the pride of your position, your possessions, your fading beauty, as you squander the rest of your life in idleness?’ He made an obvious effort to control his irritation by pressing his lips together and scowling until he was able to assume an expression of smiling contempt. ‘But no doubt there is an irrefutable argument to explain this seeming imbecility. Please unfold it. I should so like to be enlightened.”

‘Oh, Conrad, I hate it when you get sarcastic. I
much
prefer you angry. If you really want to know it’s because Rafe needs me. Until recently so did my mother, but that seems to have sorted itself out. I know this is going to sound conceited but
he
says I encourage him to hope that he’ll get over the awfulness of that business in Ireland. It was so horrible for him and he still gets headaches and nightmares. He told me that before I came back he had ideas of killing himself.’ I looked at Conrad’s face still twisted into an expression that somehow managed to combine polite attention and savagery. ‘I sort of cheer him up,’ I concluded lamely.

Conrad sighed and turned his head so that I saw his nose in splendid profile. You could have cut cheese with it. ‘What a little fool you are!’ he said quietly, almost as though he was speaking to one of the sheep.

‘Well, dammit!’ I said indignantly. ‘I call that incredibly rude!’

‘Yes.’ His expression of pained superiority vanished as he laughed. ‘So it is. I apologize.’

‘Oh, that’s all right. But surely you can see I’m morally obliged
not to be selfish.’ I could not prevent a note of interrogation creeping into my voice. ‘Aren’t I?’

Conrad winced. ‘Aren’t I? I are? Am I not? is better. As for sacrificing yourself for his happiness, it is common knowledge that the debtor, after the first flush of gratitude, comes swiftly to resent the creditor. So it is with less mercenary obligations. Gifts should be reciprocal.’

‘I know what you mean. But Rafe’s giving me so much that really the boot’s on the other foot.’

Conrad looked down at my running shoes. ‘The boot?’ He subjected me to a brief but stern gaze then spread his hands and twitched his lips as though there was no more to be said on that subject. ‘Meanwhile, until you become a leader of polite society, you are going to be a cook.’

‘I won’t be cooking. I’m hopeless at it. Anyway, it’s to be a tea shop. Just sandwiches and cakes. My mother’s boyfriend’s going to make them. He’s an excellent cook. In fact, there isn’t anything he can’t do. Apart from reading and writing. He didn’t go to school because his parents were travellers and they moved all the time, but I think he must be a clever man.’

‘You approve her choice, then?’

‘Dimpsie’s happier than I ever remember her being. My father treated her so badly but in spite of everything she adored him. Why should anyone want to be badly treated, I wonder?’

‘Psychologists would say it reinforces the conviction of worthlessness. But also that some women find it exciting to be subjugated sexually. Most women have rape fantasies, apparently.’