Glittering Images (54 page)

She said unexpectedly, ‘I wish I had someone like that to talk to,’ and at once I was concerned for her. The cry for help was muted but unmistakable. Realizing that she would be reluctant to tell any of her numerous clerical acquaintances about a problem which concerned a bishop I said tentatively, ‘Perhaps an Anglican-Benedictine nun might help. I’m sure the Abbot of Starwater could recommend –’

‘I hate nuns. I’m not wild about monks either, but if Father Darrow lives up to his reputation, perhaps … But he wouldn’t want to see a woman, would he?’

‘I’m sure he’d see anyone in an emergency.’

‘Oh, this isn’t an emergency!’ she said at once. ‘I’m fine.’

‘That’s what I used to tell myself before I ended up drunk on Father Darrow’s doorstep.’ I was now deeply concerned. ‘Lyle, if things get impossible phone me at any time of the day or night and I’ll do my best to help – and don’t think this offer means I’m playing Casanova all over again because I’m not; I’m just trying to be something that resembles a clergyman, and if you ever do need my help I promise I shan’t demand any romantic payment in return.’

She gave me a searching glance before saying cautiously, ‘You’re different.’

‘You never really met me before. I was hiding behind a mask – the mask I call my glittering image – but Father Darrow’s helping me to put that mask aside so that I can be the man I really am.’

I saw the comprehension flare in her eyes. ‘Oh, if only you knew,’ she whispered, ‘how much I long to put aside
my
glittering image and be the woman I really am!’ But before I could reply she was saying abruptly, ‘What on earth does Father Darrow make of all this?’

‘It’s not his primary business to have opinions. His task is to see I form rational opinions of my own.’

We were silent at last, and into our silence seeped the Starbridge mystery, billowing between us like a dark cloud to sever our communication. Glancing at her watch she stood up. ‘I must get back. Carrie will be needing me.’

‘Lyle –’

Her eyes were suddenly dark with emotion. ‘Don’t ask any questions.’

‘Let me at least give you some additional numbers in case I’m not at Laud’s when you phone.’ I found the receipt from my lunch at the Staro Arms and wrote on the back my parents’ number in Epsom and the Fordites’ number in Grantchester. Then I added, ‘If I don’t hear from you I’ll get in touch in mid-September in the hope of arranging a meeting at the end of the month. What’s the best way of communicating with you? Shall I write?’

‘No, don’t do that,’ she said quickly. ‘Gerald gets to the post before I do and he tells the Bishop everything. A letter with a Cambridge postmark would be quite impossible to explain.’

I somehow refrained from an appalled comment and said in the most neutral voice I could muster, ‘What’s the best time to phone?’

‘The afternoons. If you get Gerald hang up, but if Shipton answers ask for me and if I’m not in I’ll ring you back. Say you’re Donald Wilson – he’s an old flame of mine who rings up occasionally, so I wouldn’t have to explain any call from him.’

I was unable to stop myself exclaiming: ‘You talk like a prisoner!’

‘Of course I’m a prisoner! We’re all prisoners of our circumstances, but for God’s sake, Charles,
for God’s sake,
don’t storm the palace in a quixotic attempt to rescue me –’

‘Don’t worry, Father Darrow’s taught me that the most effective help is always offered, never imposed.’

We had left the bench and were moving down the north side of the cloisters, but when we reached the door into the transept she stopped. ‘It’s best if we say goodbye here.’

‘Very well.’ I wanted to kiss her but knew she would recoil; she was already glancing nervously over her shoulder to see if we were being observed. Instead I took her hands in mine, and for a second an unmistakable reality blazed between us before dying amidst the miasma of despair which emanated from her.

I said: ‘Don’t forget. You can phone any time of the day or night.’

She nodded. I released her, and as we both stepped back into the transept I paused to watch her walk away towards the nave. I watched her until she had finally disappeared from sight through the door into the north porch, and then, feeling more deeply disturbed than ever, I returned to the chapel to pray.

I felt too exhausted to complete the long journey to Cambridge that day so I spent the night in London at my club. Having anticipated a possible absence from home I had brought with me in my overnight bag the books which I needed for my exercises, but even after a night’s rest concentration proved elusive.

Darrow was not immediately available when I arrived without warning on his doorstep later that morning, but after half an hour I was escorted to the Abbot’s Parlour where he was waiting for me. Aware that I might be diverting him from more urgent work I apologized for my unexpected appearance and said I would return later to discuss Romaine. ‘But something very strange happened yesterday,’ I said, ‘and I did just want a quick word with you about Lyle.’

‘Sit down, take your time and please give me at least a brief summary of your meeting with Romaine before you vanish in a puff of smoke.’

Realizing I was creating a fevered impression I made an effort to be calm. ‘I didn’t acquit myself well in Starvale St James,’ I said. ‘Romaine manages to be both a smooth wily old survivor and a vulnerable battered old man. He was pathetically thrilled to see me. I hated that. I hated him. But the worst part of all is that I’ve invited him to Cambridge next month and I can’t wait to see him – and if you can make head or tail of all that, Father, you deserve some sort of cenobitic medal.’

Darrow merely asked, ‘What did you do afterwards?’

‘I stayed sober,’ I said, and recounted my movements up to the moment before my meeting with Lyle.

‘At least you dealt with yourself competently when you were in distress,’ was Darrow’s not unsympathetic comment. ‘Very well, we’ll return to Romaine later. Now what’s all this about Lyle?’

I told him every detail of my meeting with her, and when I had finished he looked so grave that I felt obliged to say, ‘Father, I swear I didn’t break my promise and go looking for her.’

‘No, of course you didn’t. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not concerned about the meeting, which seems to have been unexpectedly beneficial; I’m concerned about her welfare. However at least you’ve thrown her a life-line, and that could well prove vital.’

‘Would you, in fact, agree to counsel her?’

‘I’d counsel anyone in an emergency, as you so rightly told her, but beyond that … No, it wouldn’t be advisable, Charles, for two reasons. One is that I’m counselling you and therefore I couldn’t approach her in a truly detached frame of mind. And the other reason is that a difference in sex can often create difficulties in counselling, even if the two people concerned approach each other with the best will in the world and the purest of motives. She’d be better off with a nun than a monk.’

‘She says she hates nuns.’

‘When people make extravagant statements like that they may merely be struggling to voice a despair which can’t be easily expressed. What Lyle may mean is that at present she feels her problems are beyond discussion with either a nun or indeed with anyone else.’

‘Surely the fact that she has such severe problems must mean –’

‘We can’t know for certain what it means. It certainly seems as if Lyle’s involved with both the Jardines in a way that’s emotionally and spiritually bad for her, but this still needn’t mean she’s Jardine’s mistress.’

‘But even if she’s not his mistress he must still be in error to allow such an unhealthy situation to persist,’ I said. ‘Obviously he’s fooled himself into believing that the situation’s not unhealthy, but then his error with Loretta proves, doesn’t it, that he can be capable of gross self-deception.’

‘I was wondering when you were going to notice that.’ Darrow sounded so relieved that he no longer had to keep his opinion to himself in order to maintain his neutrality that I was at once able to conclude, ‘I suppose I was so disturbed by my own error with Loretta that I didn’t pay sufficient attention to Jardine’s but it’s nonsense, in spiritual terms, to say that he didn’t commit adultery with her.’

‘Dr Jardine spoke as a good lawyer,’ said Darrow drily, ‘but not, I’m afraid, as a good clergyman. Your own error with Loretta was severe but Jardine’s was infinitely worse: a married clergyman, engaged in gaining a very carnal knowledge of one of his own parishioners – the whole episode’s a clerical nightmare, and it makes one realize, I think, Charles, how shrewd His Grace the Archbishop has been over this business. Obviously he senses that Jardine’s capable of colossal error and equally obviously, as we can now see, Dr Lang is justified in fearing a scandal, but Charles, none of this need mean Jardine and Lyle are lovers. So keep calm, don’t rush to judgement and try hard to accept that for the moment, as far as Lyle’s concerned, you’ve done all that you can do.’

That evening I returned to Darrow to discuss my meeting with Romaine and we talked for some time.

‘I do understand,’ said Darrow at last, ‘why you should feel hostile, but if you’re not averse to seeing him again perhaps this indicates that you may feel more benign later.’

‘I doubt it. He’s such an awful old villain.’

‘I’m quite prepared to believe you when you say that, Charles, but could you explain to me why you feel he’s so awful and so villainous? You’ve actually made him sound delightful.’

‘Have I?’

‘Well, haven’t you? He tried hard, it would seem, to be truthful with you; certainly he didn’t go out of his way to paint himself in a flattering light. He was nice about your parents. He bathed you in approval by saying how glad he was that you were a clergyman, and finally he could barely be restrained from diving into the cellar for the Veuve Clicquot. Is this really such iniquitous behaviour?’

‘It was all an act to ingratiate himself with me! But I never forgot for one moment how he made my parents suffer.’

‘There’s no doubt he did cause your parents considerable suffering,’ said Darrow, ‘but according to your account he suffered in the long run just as much as they did and possibly more.’

‘So he should. He wrecked their marriage.’

‘Who says their marriage is wrecked? It seems to me, from what you tell me, to have survived many outstanding difficulties. After all, here they are after nearly forty years, still living beneath the same roof, still on speaking terms and still, so far as we know, being faithful to each other. I’m not saying their marriage hasn’t been difficult, but can one truly describe it as wrecked?’

‘It seemed pretty wrecked to me on Saturday!’

‘Obviously they’re going through a bad time, but like most couples who survive thirty-eight years of matrimony they probably have their good times as well as their bad times. After all, has their marriage really been such unadulterated hell? Your mother’s had the kind of affluent sociable life she likes and your father’s had an attractive wife who’s been a devoted mother to his children. Meanwhile the children themselves are a credit to their parents and are no doubt a source of much happiness as well as the occasional bout of misery. To me this all sounds reassuringly normal – although I’m not denying that there are abnormalities present. But I think you should consider very carefully how far these abnormalities have vitiated the marriage, Charles, before you start blaming Romaine for a marital disaster.’

I was silent. I felt as if the truth had slithered through my hands and was weaving a new pattern which lay beyond my grasp.

‘It’s undeniable that Romaine’s had an adverse effect on your parents,’ said Darrow at last, ‘but is this entirely his fault? How much of the responsibility should be assigned to your father, who by so ruthlessly suppressing the tragedy gave it this golden opportunity to fester at leisure? And your mother – how much is she to blame for clinging with such tenacity to this very romantic but possibly dangerously deceptive memory of her first love?’

After a moment I said, ‘She told me she always thought he’d come back. The thought of her waiting year after year seems so –’ But I left the sentence unfinished.

‘That’s certainly tragic and you have every right to find it upsetting, but I think we should guard against assuming that everyone would have lived happily ever after if Dr Romaine had tried to revive his disastrous love affair when he returned to England. We should remember that Dr Romaine himself appears convinced that your mother was lucky not to marry him, and we should remember too, I think, that he’s far better acquainted with the exact nature of their love affair than either you or I could hope to be. When he made his decision to stay away it seems he was trying to do what he thought was right, not only for himself but for you and your parents as well. It was a sad decision, certainly, but can you honestly say it was a wicked one?’

‘No. But I still say he’s an awful old villain and I hate him.’ I shuddered, crossed myself and whispered, ‘God forgive me.’

‘Tell me,’ said Darrow suddenly, ‘did he frighten you? We often hate the things we fear.’

I was silent.

‘Did he unnerve you in some way? After all, to confront one’s unknown progenitor could well be a deeply unnerving experience. Was there a likeness?’

I winced.

‘A strong likeness?’ said Darrow, and added with a striking flash of his psychic intuition, ‘Was it like looking in a mirror?’