The Birdcage (6 page)

His smile fades, as if he is remembering other occasions of his failure to live up to her high standards, and David shifts about in his high-backed leather chair.

‘If you can't bend the rules from time to time,' he mutters, ‘it's a poor sort of show.'

A silence: neither is prepared to discuss Marina more explicitly but they sense a rapport and gain comfort from it.

‘I suggested that she should come to Bristol with me this Sunday,' says Felix, anxious that his father-in-law shouldn't read too much into the silence. ‘I think she feels it's rather cheeky to leave Piers with you, especially as we haven't finished unpacking yet.'

‘But that's an excellent plan,' cries David, sitting up, reaching for the decanter. ‘I'm sure the boy and I can shift for ourselves for a couple of days.'

‘That's what I told her.' Felix holds out his glass gratefully. ‘I wondered if Mrs Penn might be persuaded to stay for a couple of nights. I know she's getting on a bit . . .'

‘As old as her tongue and a little older than her teeth.' David grins, thinking of Piers at tea-time. ‘He's a tonic, that boy. No need to worry about him.'

‘I don't,' answers Felix grimly. ‘Piers is the least of my worries.'

They both jump as the door opens and Marina comes into the study. Both men notice that she has changed from the slacks and jersey she was wearing earlier into a long-sleeved frock with a full skirt. David looks at her uneasily, wondering if this is to be the thin end of the wedge, waiting for some remark regarding the shabbiness of his tweed jacket and rubbed cords. Felix, however, guesses that Marina has had time to regret her outburst and has been making herself look pretty so as to boost her own confidence before she attempts some kind of bridge-building.

He is on familiar territory here and, relaxed and peaceful after this short time with David, he throws out the first line.

‘How nice you look,' he says, smiling at her. ‘Are you ready for some of this excellent whisky? Of course, I only agreed to move up to Michaelgarth because of your father's cellar. You know that, don't you, David?'

His father-in-law, delighted by this promising beginning, gives a snort of approval whilst Marina perches on the fender, arranging her spreading skirts carefully. Her dark hair is twisted up into a smooth French pleat and she manages to look both sophisticated and vulnerable. The leaping glow of the flames warms her pale skin and she finds it difficult to look directly at Felix.

‘Sherry for me,' she says. ‘You know I hate the smell of whisky,' but, for once, this is not criticism, the usual reminder that she doesn't like the smell of it on his breath. ‘Dinner's nearly ready so I mustn't be too long.'

‘I was just telling David that you won't come to Bristol with me.' Felix decides to take full opportunity of having a third person present. ‘He agrees with me that Piers would be perfectly safe for just two nights. Won't you change your mind, darling?'

Marina, who has been cursing herself for ruining this chance to be with him, cross that once again she has failed to control her demon, is taken aback by such a direct approach. So is David, who looks with admiration at Felix before coming in on his side.

‘We'd be perfectly fine,' he says impatiently. ‘He's not a baby, Marina, and neither am I. We'll survive, I promise you.'

‘I think that Piers will see it as some kind of adventure.' Felix leans forward, as though to touch her arm, but she instinctively draws back. Even at moments like these, when she'd like to make amends, she can't endure any show of physical affection. ‘And, after all,' he adds rather wearily, ‘we shan't be that far away. You could drive back if you needed to.'

He sits back in his chair, hurt by her continual rejection, suddenly uncaring whether she joins him or not.

Seven years of marriage, he thinks bitterly, and I'm still only allowed to touch her when we're having sex. She thinks that those frenzied acts make up for this continuing lack of affection.

Marina sees that he is upset and, remembering how Helen Cartwright looked at him and how other women look at him, she feels the pang of fear.

‘Oh, very well,' she says. ‘If you insist, but I must have a word with Mrs Penn to see if she can cope with bath-time.'

‘Piers won't die if he doesn't have a bath for two nights,' says David cheerfully. ‘Stop fussing, woman. Won't that dinner be ready yet?'

She hurries away, taking her sherry with her, relieved now that the matter is resolved. She will make it up to Felix later on tonight – and in Bristol.

‘I'll go and wash my hands.' Felix rises reluctantly to his feet: the peace and harmony is shattered and he feels irritable. ‘Thanks for the whisky, David.'

The old man lays an arm along his son-in-law's shoulders and gives it a little squeeze; their eyes meet and Felix realizes that the old man knows exactly how he feels. Warmth steals round his heart and he smiles at him. He begins to speak – to justify himself? To explain that he is not an adulterous bastard? – but David shakes his head. No words are needed here. Marina calls to them that dinner is being taken into the dining-room and they go out together, Monty following along behind.

CHAPTER FOUR

So it is that Marina is with him that evening when he first sees Angelica Blake as Rosalind in
As You Like It.
One of his colleagues and his wife are ‘Friends of the Theatre' and have bought the tickets.

‘I was hoping that we were going to have an evening on our own,' says Marina sulkily, sitting at the small dressing-table, screwing in her earrings. ‘I thought that was the whole point of me being here.'

‘They thought it would be a treat.' Felix transfers his loose cash to his trouser pocket, stows away his cigarette case and lighter. ‘Molly and Tom are very kind to me when I'm up on my own. We can hardly refuse.'

‘But they had no idea I was coming,' she persists. ‘How did they know to get two tickets?'

Her suspicions are out in the open and Felix wonders how he should answer so that the evening is not ruined. Sometimes he makes up a foursome with Molly's sister, whose husband was killed in the war, but how is he to explain this to Marina without opening a floodgate? He knows that there is simply no time to work through the wearying but familiar pattern of accusation, explanations, arctic silence, gradual propitiation on his part and remorse on hers, which finally spends itself in an exhausting bout of love-making. After seven years he is beginning to find it humiliating and distasteful, and Tom and Molly will be here in fifteen minutes to collect them.

‘I expect someone has let them down,' he answers casually, praying that Tom doesn't make an ill-timed joke about the occasional foursome. ‘Perhaps Molly dashed out to buy the tickets this morning. Does it matter? Can't we just enjoy it? It's one of your favourites, isn't it? Didn't you tell me that you once played Rosalind in the school play?'

Staring at him as he bends to look into the mirror, his head beside hers as he swiftly brushes his hair, Marina remembers that she has vowed not to spoil this time with him. She's had a very pleasant day, exploring old Clifton before walking down to Whiteladies Road for lunch in Brights, followed by a stroll on Brandon Hill, and Felix is making every effort to spend as much time with her as possible.

‘I played Celia, actually,' she says, trying for a lighter note, ‘and hated every moment of it. I wasn't cut out for the stage but it was a poor year for artistic talent and I was the best of a bad bunch. I'm sure it will be great fun.'

Grateful for this attempt, Felix bends to kiss her. ‘At least you would have looked beautiful, if nothing else,' he murmurs.

As usual she is embarrassed by his extravagance and turns her head aside, making a show of fastening her pretty garnet necklace, checking her hair. Felix straightens up, too relieved that the awkward moment has passed to feel the usual resignation, putting on his jacket. When the doorbell rings he hurries out to greet Molly and Tom, who arrive in good humour and over drinks explain that, after the show, a visit backstage has been arranged: Molly knows Angelica Blake, the actress who is playing the part of Rosalind. Felix sees at once that Marina is not too keen on this suggestion but she is too well-mannered to object in front of their hosts and there is no time to voice her feelings to Felix. He hopes that, when the time comes, she'll simply allow herself to be carried along with the general fun.

The atmosphere of the theatre works its magic: the air of expectation amongst the audience, who talk and laugh and peer about to see if they recognize friends, the shabby gilt of the tiers and ornate pillars, the soft, dusty plush of the seats and – at last – the sudden hush as the lights dim and the curtain rises.

Marina is relaxed, her shoulder rests against his arm and, briefly, she is transported to this other world, to the Forest of Arden, her own fears and tension forgotten. Afterwards, as they pass through the swing door, she holds his arm and he squeezes it with his elbow against his side so as to reassure her.

The small dressing-room seems full of people and noise so that Marina hesitates, pushing Felix ahead of her. Molly and Tom are already greeting one of the actors and Felix has time to take in the scene: the long dressing-bar with sticks of greasepaint and a bowl of flowers beside the mirror; a huge tin of grease with a mound of cotton wool; a screen with clothes flung over it; the sound of the departing audience relayed through the Tannoy.

The girl who played the part of Celia is sitting before the glass, cleaning her face with cotton wool, but Angelica Blake stands beside the screen, tying the belt of a dark blue cotton wrapper round her slender waist, her ash-fair hair pulled back casually from a face that, already wiped bare of its make-up, is as fresh and clean as a child's. She is listening intently to the tall, dark-haired man in jeans and green jersey who gesticulates, explaining something, until suddenly he gives a shout of laughter and leans forward to kiss her.

‘You were terrific, darling,' he says, ‘but just don't forget to take that line slowly. The timing is absolutely vital,' and she smiles gratefully at him and they turn together as the stage-manager calls: ‘You've got visitors, Angel.'

As her glance touches his, Felix feels a tiny galvanic shock, a thrill of something that could be described as a kind of recognition. It is so strong, so compelling, that he instinctively turns away from her to Marina, who is still just behind him in the doorway, as if the sight of his wife – cool, smart, emotions well under control – might restore him to his senses. She doesn't respond as he smiles at her, standing to one side so that she can edge past and precede him into the dressing-room, but he keeps his eyes carefully away from the girl who is now making her way towards them. The tall, dark-haired man is the first to be introduced; he already knows Molly and Tom, and now he holds out his arm so as to draw Angel into the circle.

Felix briefly grasps her warm hand, barely glancing at her again, talking instead to the tall man and one or two other people who have now squeezed into the overcrowded dressing-room. Presently, they go in a group to the Llandoger Trow for supper but, before very long, Angel and the girl who's played Celia gather up their coats, preparing to leave, joking about beauty sleep. There is much kissing and noisy farewells, but when she comes face to face with Felix, Angel simply holds out her hand.

‘We haven't talked properly.' She speaks so quietly that he has to bend his head to hear her. ‘I wish we had.'

‘So do I,' he mumbles inadequately, foolishly – and looks at her again.

Her hand tightens around his and then she turns away; only a few seconds have passed, nobody has heard or noticed them. A moment later he's finishing his pint, laughing at some amusing remark, and even Marina hasn't noticed how forced his laughter sounds or how his hand shakes when he replaces the empty glass upon the bar.

It is ironic, he thinks, that when, for the first time, Marina has reason to be jealous she suspects nothing. He knows why: it is as if, after the exchange of that very first glance, he's been in shock, his usual friendliness and charm temporarily suspended.

‘You seemed a bit off,' Marina tells him later, once they're back at the flat alone. Her voice is a strange mix of brittle sarcasm and curiosity. ‘Not your usual self at all.'

‘I've had the most fearful headache,' he answers. ‘I was hoping nobody noticed. I didn't want to be a wet blanket.'

He tries to take her in his arms but she wriggles away from him, saying that she is going to make some coffee, and for once he makes no effort to detain her. The next time he goes to Bristol he goes alone.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘I've asked someone for a drink tomorrow evening,' says Angel to Pidge one Sunday evening in January. She looks slightly self-conscious. ‘Before I go down to the theatre. Could you be around? I'd like you to meet him.'

She speaks quite low, so as not to arouse Lizzie's attention, and Pidge looks up from her book, quirking her eyebrows so that Angel becomes even more embarrassed. This is so unlike her that Pidge feels a qualm of anxiety.

‘Married, is he?' she asks lightly, laying the book face down on the broad arm of the chair.

Angel pulls a face and draws her cotton wrapper round her more tightly. She always sleeps in the afternoon and doesn't dress again properly until it's time to go down to the theatre.

‘Isn't it typical, sweetie?' she asks ruefully. ‘Why is it I only fall in love with married men?'

‘Oh dear.' Pidge reaches for a cigarette and pushes the packet towards Angel. ‘Very married?'