Lovers and Liars (71 page)

,,, His eyes held hers. ‘So, are you going to give me an answer? I ffiink you owe me one, don’t you? Do you intend pursuing this? Yes or noT

,_ The question was put in a peremptory way, but behind the curtness of tone, Gini could hear a plea. She looked up at Rawthorne uncertainly. There was now no doubting the strength bf his emotion. She had heard his voice catch when he mentioned

his children, and she could still see pain and exhaustion in his eyes. just for a moment, one tiny instant, his expression reminded her of Pascal; he too looked this way sometimes, when he spoke of his divorce, or looked back to his years in war zones. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Hawthorne then, and she could ten that he sensed it. His face altered. She saw he was about to speak, or perhaps reach out for her hand.

Before he could do so, however, there was a sudden and violent reaction from her father. For him, obviously, her silence had continued too long.

‘Jesus Christ, what the hell is thisT he erupted. ‘You’re asked a straight question, Gini, give it a straight fucking answer. Yes or no? Are you going to drop this? Because if you’re not, then just take on board the consequences here. There are libel laws in this country and they’re a whole lot tougher than the libel laws back home. So check your contract with the News or any other paper you go to very carefully. Make sure you’re indemnified, sweetheart, and have your lawyer explain the fine print. No paper can cover you on a criminal libel charge anyway. You get hauled up on that one, Gini, and there’s a double pay-off. In the first place, you’re bankrupt and in the second, you’re in jail-‘

‘That’s enough, Sam.’ Hawthorne cut him off with ill-disguised anger. ‘I wanted to get through this without threats of that kind. If I have to bring an action, I’ll do so. Gini will know that. She’s not a fool. I don’t want her to make this decision on the basis of threats. I want her to understand the human implications here. She isn’t in the business of wrecking lives. Unfortunately, she’s working with Lamartine, and he is. As we know.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s past eight now. Sam, you and Mary have to go. This has been very unfair to Gini. She’s hardly had a chance to speak all evening. Why don’t you two go on, we shouldn’t hold you up.’ He turned back to Gini. ‘It’s late/ he said. ‘My car’s outside. Won’t you let me give you a ride homeT

It was easy enough to refuse this offer the first time it was made. It was more difficult half an hour later, when there was still no sign of Pascal. Hawthorne made no attempt to leave, despite her refusal. Mary was trying to calm an increasingly irascible Sam.

‘Fine/ her father said, as eight-thirty came. ‘Fine. The hell with this. I’ll wait too.’ He began to struggle out of the overcoat he had just put on. ‘I mean, what the hell? So I miss this dinner with my publisher, why should I care? It’s-just a minor inconvenience.

can all sit here for the next hour, why not? Let’s all dance ndance on that French bastard. In fact, now that I come to

of it, I’ll certainly goddamn well wait. Fuck my publishing I wouldn’t mind a few words with Lamartine. Why should get off scot-free? I notice he didn’t have the nerve to come in

face the music - oh no. He waltzed off into the night, and doubt he’ll waltz back if and when it suits him. Fine. Great. and I have a whole lot of unfinished business. You wait, Gini wait. And while I wait, I’ll have another bourbon as well.’ ary was in the hall getting her coat. Sam, taking advantage of moved fast towards the drinks table, and slopped the bourbon a glass. Gini watched him helplessly. Behind her, by the

place, Hawthorne watched silently; he did not say a word. “Look, Daddy/ Gini moved forward, ‘I don’t want to make you . You shouldn’t miss this dinner. I asked Pascal not to come ght - he wanted to be here. This is stupid. It was a very loose

angement. Pascal’s probably been held up.’ She glanced down her watch as she said this. Pascal had said he would return at t. It was now eight thirtyfive.

‘A loose arrangementT Her father took a hefty swallow of urbon. ‘That sounds pretty typical. Loose arrangements are ther his’line. He taught you about loose arrangements before, I remember rightly.’

‘Come on, Sam. Cut it out/ Hawthorne said, in a cold voice. u’ve had more than enough to drink. You should go.’

‘No. Stay out of this, John. You don’t understand. Gini knows hat I’m getting at.’ He downed the rest of the bourbon, and ached for the bottle again.

‘Look, Daddy, please . Gini tried to move the bottle out of reach. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t drink any more. Listen - I’ll make own way home. I’m going now.’

ou. goddamn stupid fucking bitch.’ He gave her a sudden hard sh, picked up the bottle and refilled his glass. ‘Don’t you start #elling me what to do and what not to do. just sort your own ,We out, and don’t come crying to me when you make a bloody Oiess of it, second time around.’

., There was a silence. Gini stared at him. She began in a low, unsteady voice. ‘Come crying to you? I’ve never come crying to Ou in my life. Why would I? You wouldn’t listen if I did. I learned tlesson when I was three years old.’

‘Oh did you just? Did you just? How about when you were been years old? How about when you showed up in Beirut

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one morning, with all those goddamn pathetic boasts. Daddy, I want to be a journalist. I want to be a journalist, Daddy, just likee you … ,

He did a vicious impersonation of a whining child. Gini took a step back. Mary, re-entering the room, began to speak, but Sam continued, drowning her out. He fixed his eyes on Gini, took one unsteady step forward, then stopped.

‘You, Gini, are just so goddamn dumb. You come out to a fucking war zone, this stupid arrogant kid who thinks she knows it all. You get in my way. You embarrass me in front of my friends with your goddamn inane fucking questions all the time-‘

‘Sam.’ Mary raised her voice. ‘Stop this and stop this now-‘ ‘And then what do you doT He lurched forward another step. ‘What’s your idea of being some hot-shot woman journalist? You get into bed with the first ass-hole who makes a pass at you, and you spend the next fucking three weeks getting screwed. By the same fucking goddamned bastard who’s screwing you now - and don’t deny it, because it’s written all over your face. I knew it the second you walked in that door. Well grow up, Gini. Get real. He’s not just screwing you, sweetheart, he’s screwing you up. And you know why? Because he’s scum, and you’re an idiot. You can’t even see when you’re being used-‘

‘Don’t. just don’t.’ Suddenly, Gini felt blind with anger. She grabbed at the glass and snatched it out of his hand. ‘You drink too much. It’s disgusting the way you drink. It makes me sick to watch you. I hate you for the way you drink. I hate you for the way you talk to me. You want the bourbon that badly, you have the bourbon, Daddy. Here … ‘

She tossed the rest of the bourbon in the glass at his face. As she did so, Sam made a clumsy grab for her wrist. Half the alcohol hitt his shirt, the rest spilled on her blouse. Sam lurched against the drinks table. There was a crash, as bottles fell. Her father now looked blind with rage; he peered in her direction, as if he could scarcely see her, then lurched forward again. For Gini it was all a blur of movement. Mary was moving, her father was moving, John Hawthorne was moving; her father lifted his hand. The smell of bourbon was choking now.

‘You bitch,’ he said. ‘You dumb fucking little whore .

The arm was upraised now. Gini flinched, and then John Hawthorne was between them. She looked at the dark plain material of his suit jacket; she watched as if from a great distance, the swiftness with which he moved.

‘Back off, Sam/ he said, in a voice icy with anger. He caught

11old of her father’s lapels and almost lifted Sam, for all his bulk, Aff his feet. He slammed him back hard against a chair, shook m, then pushed him into it.

‘Get a hold of yourself. Sober up. That was way out of line and ou know it. You, get up again, Sam, and I’ll knock you down.’ He stood there, looking down at her father. Sam struggled to t to his feet again, then subsided. Gini stared at them both, wthorne, tall, scarcely dishevelled by this tussle, his face pale ith anger, and her father, slumped in the chair, breathing heavily. s she watched, he let his head fall back. His jaw went slack. He sed his eyes.

There was a silence. Hawthorne turned back to Gini. ‘I’m sorry. provoked all this. He’s been working up to it for most of e day. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I’m used to it. It’s happened before.’

Hawthorne’s mouth tightened. ‘Well, you don’t look fine. That’s No more argument. I’m taking you home right now.’ He itated. ‘Mary, what shall we do with Sam? You want me to a cab? I could send Malone around, he could get him back his hotel … ‘

‘No, John. Leave him. Really. I’m used to this as well. He’ll eep for a while now, and when he wakes up I’ll give him some ck coffee. Then he’ll apologize. Then he’ll get maudlin. Then ‘11 go.’

‘You’re sureT

‘John. I’ve coped with this a thousand times. Go. Take Gini !home … ‘ She hesitated and Gini could see the shock on her iace. She was close to tears. ‘Gini, I’m so sorry. You mustn’t take any notice of what he says. He doesn’t mean it. It’s just the “bourbon talking. He does love you, in his way. He’s just never ;bad the least idea how to express it. Darling, don’t cry. John’s ftht. Let him take you home.’

In the hall, John Hawthorne helped her into her coat. He drew it around her, then took her arm. He led her down the steps and Into the street. Gini looked to right and left. There was still no ign of Pascal.

‘Don’t worry about Lamartine.’ Hawthorne opened the front

1)assenger door of his car. ‘If and when he turns up, Mary will tell him where you are.’

He helped her into her seat, then closed the door. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he gave her a slight smile.

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‘I know. No thugs - as Mary likes to call them. Just occasionally I get to drive myself, as you see. With escort … ‘ He gestured to a black car some twenty yards behind, which pulled out behind them. ‘Even so, it’s a relief. I get behind the wheel of a car, and I feel human again. A private person. An ordinary person. I can’t tell you how good that feels.’

At the end of the street he paused, and glanced at her again. ‘Where to, GiniT

‘I’m sorryT

He smiled. ‘I don’t know where you live.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry. I’m not concentrating.’ She hesitated. ‘I live in Islington. Gibson Square. Are you sure about this? I don’t want to take you out of your way. You can drop me at the tube.’

‘No.’ He gave her a bemused look. ‘I don’t think so. Not in the circumstances. I told you. I’m taking you home.’

He said nothing more, and Gini too remained silent. She kept her eyes on the road ahead. She tried to think of Pascal, and what could have happened to him. Perhaps he was still angry, she thought; perhaps he’d decided not to collect her after all, and had gone back to Hampstead on his own. But she knew that he would never do that, however much he might have resented this meeting with her father. And at that thought, her mind went into another flurry of anxiety and pain.

She heard her father say those things again, and she saw again the expression on his face when he did.so. She swallowed; her whole body ached.

John Hawthorne glanced towards her. ‘Shall I put some music onT he asked. ‘Would that help? I find it does, sometimes. Mozart

- I like Mozart. I have Figaro here … Do you know that opera?’ ‘Not well.’

‘It’s one of my favourites. Great happiness and great pain fused together … ‘ He hesitated. An absurd plot, mistaken identities, heartbreak avoided by a kiss in the dark. I find it gives me hope - while the opera lasts.’

He reached forward to the CD player, and pressed the controls. Music filled the car. Mozart propelled them north, and melody ate up the distance. As the second act began, Hawthorne turned into Gibson Square, and parked the car.

He sat for a while, in silence, listening to the music, then he switched it off. He hesitated, then he reached across and took her hand.

‘Are you all rightT

‘Yes, I am. The Mozart does help. I’ve calmed down.’

‘I’m glad.’ He paused. ‘I wish now that I had never involved Sam. The drinking’s much worse than when I last saw him. If -Yd foreseen what would happen… ‘ He shrugged. ‘I wonder. There is something I need to say to you. I couldn’t discuss it in ‘front of Mary and Sam. Could I come in with you, just for ten Minutes? Would you mindT

‘- He released her hand as he said this, and drew back a little. Then, without waiting for her reply, he climbed out, came around IInd opened her door for her. As Gini stepped out, she saw the car which had followed them all this way. It had drawn in, engine running, a short way up the street. Inside it, two male figures were just discernible. Hawthorne lifted his hand, and

stured at them. The engine cut out instantly. In the silence of square, Gini heard a faint crackle of radio static. Hawthorne d her across to her house, and she saw his eyes flick up over e dark windows. Mrs Henshaw’s letter-box, Gini saw, was

Jammed open with mail. Two bottles of milk stood on her doorstep, roclaiming her continued absence. Gini led the way down the area eps, and fumbled for her key.

‘Will you mind if I come in?’ Hawthorne hung back politely. ?It will only be ten minutes. I have to get back to Lise.’

‘No, no, that’s fine. I’m grateful for what you did. I’ll make Ius some coffee.’ Gini bent quickly, and scooped up the pile of letters on her mat. It was obvious from their number that she had been away several days. Hawthorne gave no indication of ‘hoticing this. He followed her into her living-room, and looked about him with apparent approval. She saw his gaze take in the comfortable if shabby furnishings, the posters for art exhibitions. lie looked around him, frowning.

‘It’s a nice place you have here, Gini. When I was your age, I always wanted to live this way. My own space … I guess I inanaged it at Yale. Never since. My father had pronounced views on how I should live, where I should live … even with whom.’ ‘ He turned back, and smiled at her, almost sadly. ‘I told you before, we have something in common, you and 1. Difficult fathers. Dominating fathers-!