Voices in Summer (7 page)

He saw her coat, slung across the hall chair, a silk Hermes scarf. He smelled her perfume. He closed the door and put down his briefcase.

'Erica.'

He went into the sitting room, and she was there, sitting in an armchair, facing him. She had been reading a paper, but now she folded this and dropped it on the floor beside her. She was wearing a yellow sweater, a grey wool skirt, and long brown leather boots. Her hair, illuminated by the reading lamp that she had lighted, shone like a polished chestnut. She said, 'Hi.'

'This is a surprise. I didn't know you were coming up.'

‘I thought about telephoning your office, but there didn't seem much point. I knew you'd be here.'

'For a moment I thought I'd forgotten about some dinner party or other. I haven't, have I?'

'No. There's nothing on. I just wanted to talk to you.'

This was unusual. 'Would you like a drink?' he asked her.

'Yes. If you're having one.'

'What would you like?'

'A whisky would be fine.'

He left her and went into the kitchen and poured the drinks and manhandled ice cubes out of the tray, then carried the two glasses back to where she waited.

He handed her the glass. There's not much food in the fridge, I'm afraid, but if you like we could go out for dinner. . . .'

'I shan't be staying for dinner.' He raised his eyebrows, and she went on smoothly, 'I shan't even be staying the night, so you don't need to worry about entertaining me.'

He reached for a chair and pulled it forward and sat facing her across the hearthrug.

‘Then why have you come?'

Erica took a mouthful of the whisky, and then laid the glass delicately down on the small marble-topped table that stood by her chair.

‘I've come to tell you that I'm leaving you, Alec'

He did not at once say anything to this. Across the space that divided them, her gaze met his, her eyes unblinking, sombre, quite cold.

After a bit, he said mildly, 'Why?'

‘I don't want to live with you anymore.'

'We scarcely live together anyway.'

'Strickland Whiteside has asked me to go to America with him.'

Strickland Whiteside. He said, 'You're going to go and live with
him!’
and he could not keep the appalled incredulity out of his voice.

'You find it astonishing?'

He remembered how they had come indoors together that warm, scented September evening. He remembered the way she had looked, not simply beautiful, but radiant in a way that he had never seen before.

'Are you in love with him?'

She said, 'I don't think I've ever exactly known what being in love means. But I feel about Strick as I've never felt about anyone else. It's not just infatuation. It's doing things together, sharing interests. It's been like that from the moment we met. I can't live away from him.'

'You can't live away from Strickland Whiteside?' The name still sounded absurd. The whole sentence sounded absurd, like a line from some ludicrous farce, and Erica exploded into irritation.

'Oh, stop repeating everything I say. I can't make it any plainer, I can't make it any simpler. Repeating everything I say isn't going to change what I'm trying to tell you.'

He said ridiculously, 'He's younger than you are.' For a moment she looked a little put out. 'Yes, he is, but what difference does that make?'

'Is he married?'

'No. He's never been married.'

'Does he want to marry you?'

'Yes.'

'So you want a divorce?'

'Yes. Whether or not you agree to a divorce, I'm leaving you. I'm going out to Virginia to be with him. I shall simply live with him. I'm long past the age of minding about what people say. Conventions really don't matter anymore.'

'When are you going?'

'I'm booked on a flight to New York next week.'

'Is Strickland flying with you?'

'No.' For the first time, her gaze faltered. She looked down, her hand reached for her drink. 'He's already gone back to the States. He's in Virginia, waiting for me.'

'What about all these big events he was booked in for?'

'He's given them up . . . cancelled everything.'

‘I wonder why he did that.'

Erica raised her eyes. 'He thought it would be better.'

'You mean, he's chickened out. He hadn't the guts to face me and tell me himself.'

'That's not true.'

'He left it for you to do.'

'It's better for me to do it. I wouldn't let him stay. I made him go. I didn't want there to be rows, unpleasantness, things said that are better left unsaid.'

'You could hardly expect me to be delighted.'

'I'm going, Alec. And I'm not coming back.'

'You'd leave Deepbrook?'

'Yes.'

This astonished him almost more than the fact that she was leaving him.

‘I always thought that house meant more to you than anything.'

'Not now it doesn't. Anyway, it's your house.'

'And your horses?'

'I'm taking my horses with me. Strickland's arranged for them to be flown to Virginia.'

She was, as usual, presenting him with a totally conceived plan, her usual method when she was utterly determined to have her own way. Strickland, Deepbrook, her horses, all had been neatly dealt with, but to Alec none of these things mattered a damn. There was only one real issue at stake. Erica had never been a moral coward. He waited in silence for her to continue, but she simply sat there, watching him with grey eyes unblinking and defiant, and he realized that she was waiting for him to fire the opening shot of the battle for the only thing that really mattered.

'Gabriel?'

Erica said, 'I'm taking Gabriel with me.'

The fight was on, 'Oh no you're not!'

'Now we're not going to start shouting about this. You're going to have to listen to me. I'm her mother, and I've as much right as you – and more – to make plans for our daughter. I'm going to America. I'm going there to live, and nothing is going to change that. If I take Gabriel with me, then she can live with us. Strickland has a beautiful home, with space and land all around it. There are tennis courts, a swimming pool. It's a wonderful opportunity for a girl of Gabriel's age – young people have such a good time in America – life is geared to them. Let her have this chance. Let her take it.'

He said quietly, 'What about her school?'

'I'll take her out of school. She can go to school out there. There's a particularly good one in Maryland. . . .'

‘I won't let her go. I won't lose her.'

'Oh, Alec, you won't lose her. We'll share her. You can have access to her whenever you want. She can fly back to this country and stay with you. You can take her to Glenshandra with the others. Nothing's going to change that much.'

‘I won't let her go to America.'

'Don't you see, you have no alternative. Even if we drag this thing through the divorce courts and you fight me every inch of the way, ten to one the custody of Gabriel will be given to
me,
because they only separate a child from its mother under the most extreme of circumstances. I'd need to be a drug addict or proved in some way to be totally unfit to bring my daughter up, before they even considered giving her to you. And think what that sort of hideous, public tug-of-war would do to Gabriel. She's sensitive enough as it is, without you and me inflicting that sort of horror on her.'

'Is it any worse than the horror of having her parents divorcing? Is it any worse than the horror of having to go and live in a strange country, in a strange house, under the roof of a man she scarcely knows?'

'And what is the alternative? We have to make a decision now, Alec. There can be no question of putting if off. That's why I came to see you this evening. She has to know what is going to happen to her.'

‘I won't let her go.'

'All right, so what do you want? To keep her for yourself. You couldn't look after her, Alec. You haven't the time to give her. Even if she stayed at boarding school in this country, there are still the holidays. What would happen then, when you're working all day? And don't tell me you could leave her with Mrs Abney. Gabriel's an intelligent child, and nobody could say that Mrs Abney's the most stimulating company. She's only got two topics of conversation: one is last week's installment of "Crossroads" and the other is that damned canary of hers. And what would you do with Gabriel when you have to leave on business for Tokyo or Hong Kong? You can hardly take her with you.'

He said, ‘I can't just give her to you, Erica. Like some material possession I no longer have any use for.'

'But don't you see, if we do it my way, you
aren't
giving her to me. All right, so we're splitting up and it's a terrible thing to do to a child, but it's happened before and it will happen again, and we have somehow to decide on a course of action that will hurt her the least. I think that my plan is that one. She comes with me next week. That way the cut will be quick, the break clean, and before she's had time to turn round, she'll be caught up in a whole new life, going to a new school, making new friends.' She smiled, and for the first time he saw a glimpse of the old Erica at her most charming, sympathetic, and persuasive. 'Don't let's fight over her, Alec. I know how you feel about Gabriel, but she's my child too, and it's I who brought her up. I don't think I've done such a bad job, and I do think I deserve a little credit for that. Just because you're not going to be there doesn't mean I won't go on bringing her up. And Strick is devoted to her. With us, she'll have the best of everything. A good life.'

He said, ‘I thought that was what I was giving her.'

'Oh, Alec, you are. You have. And you can go on doing it. Whenever you want, she can come and see you. We've agreed on that. You can have her all to yourself. You'll love that. Agree to it. For all our sakes. Let her come with me. It's the very best you can do for her. I know it is. Make the sacrifice . . . for Gabriel's sake.'

He said, 'I know your mother's told you what's happened, what's going to happen. But I wanted to talk to you myself, so that if there was anything you were worried about . . .'

Even as he said this, he knew that it was ridiculous. Gabriel's world was falling apart, and he was speaking as though it were some small domestic difficulty that, in a matter of seconds, he could put straight for her.

‘I mean ... it has happened fairly suddenly. There hasn't been time to talk anything over, and you'll be leaving in a week. I didn't want you to go without thinking that I hadn't . . . made some effort to see you. I would like to have had more time to talk things over . . . with
you.
Were you hurt that we didn't discuss it with you?'

Gabriel shrugged. 'It wouldn't have made much difference.'

'Were you surprised when your mother told you about herself and Strickland?'

‘I knew she liked him. But she's liked lots of horsey people. I never thought she's want to go and live with him in America.'

'She's going to marry him.'

‘I know.'

They walked, together but apart, slowly around a deserted games field. It was a horrible day, English winter weather at its worst. Cold, still, raw, misty. No breeze stirred the empty trees, and only the cawing of the rooks broke the foggy silence. In the distance stood the school buildings. Once they had been an elegant country house, with wings and stables, but these had been converted into gymnasiums and classrooms. Indoors, lessons were in progress, but Gabriel had been allowed to miss a biology lesson in order to speak to her father. Later, no doubt a bell would ring, and the place would erupt with girls dressed for hockey or netball, bundled into sweaters and striped scarves, running and calling to one another and complaining of the cold. Now, except for a few lighted windows that shone through the murk, the place looked deserted, stripped of life.

'It could be an adventure, going to America.' 'That's what Mummy says.'

'At least you won't have to play games in weather like this. It makes a difference if you can play games in the sunshine. You might even become a tennis champion.'

Gabriel, with her head drooping and her hands deep in the pocket of her coat, kicked at a stick. So much for tennis. Alec was chilled, disorientated by her lack of response, because it was so out of character. He liked to think that he had always been able to talk to her. But now he was not so sure.

He said, T wouldn't have had this happen for anything in the world. You must realize that. But there's nothing I can do to keep your mother with me. You know what she's like once she's made up her mind about something. Wild horses couldn't make her change tracks.'

She said, ‘I never never even thought about you and Mummy divorcing.'

'I'm afraid it happens to a lot of children. You must have a lot of friends with divorced parents.'

'But this is
me.'

Once more, he was lost for words. In silence they paced on, around the corner of the field, passing a pole with a sodden red flag.

He said, 'Whatever happens, you know, you're still my daughter. I shall pay your school fees and give you an allowance. You won't have to ask Strickland for anything. You won't ever have to be beholden to him. You . . . like him, don't you? You don't dislike him?'

'He's all right.'

'Your mother says he's very fond of you.'

'He's so young. He's much younger than Mummy.'

Alec took a deep breath. ‘I suppose,' he said carefully, 'if you fall in love with a person, their age doesn't matter.'

Abruptly, Gabriel stopped walking. Alec stopped too, and they stood facing each other, two solitary figures in the middle of nowhere. Not once during this afternoon's encounter had her eyes met his, and now she looked angrily straight ahead, at his coat buttons.

She said, 'Couldn't I have stayed with you?'

He was invaded by an impulse to embrace her, pull his child into his arms, break down her reserve with a demonstration of love that would somehow convince her that this ghastly separation that they spoke of was as abhorrent to him as it was to her. But he had promised himself on the way down to the school to see her that he would not do this.
You mustn't upset her,
Erica had begged him.
Go and see her and talk things over, but don't upset her. She's accepted the situation. If you start getting emotional, then we're all back where we started and your going to break Gabriel into little pieces.