Canvey Island (25 page)

The meal was all right, I suppose, because at least we were getting used to Martin and Claire's ways. Personally, I don't understand how anyone in the world can enjoy comfrey-leaf fritters but there's no accounting for taste. I think they prepared it just to see the looks on our faces.

I noticed Claire had lost some weight and I thought it might be
polite if I told her so. She replied it was the Greenham diet and I should try it.

After that most of the meal was conducted in silence, apart from Lucy singing songs and pretending the adults were policemen. She made us listen to her like she was still at that awful place.

‘And so, Claire,' said her father, ‘tell us your news, your stories from the front. The battles you have fought and won, your tales of derring-do.'

‘Don't, Daddy.'

‘No, I'm interested. We've seen it on the news, of course, the mud and the singing and the dungarees. Some of my parishioners even went on a coach trip. Funny kind of holiday.'

‘It wasn't a holiday.'

‘You know what I mean.'

‘You should have come, Mummy.'

Celia looked startled. ‘Oh, I think I'm a bit old for that kind of thing.'

‘If every woman in Britain came then no one could stop us. Imagine …'

‘But that's hardly likely, is it …'

‘What's happened to you both?' Claire asked.

‘When I was growing up you were full of such ideals. We travelled to Africa, we went all over the place installing water pumps and converting the heathen, and now you spend all your time stuck drinking sherry by the Thames.'

‘I wouldn't say we were stuck, my darling.'

‘Where's your courage? Where's your vitality?'

She was beginning to rant and Martin asked her to calm down.

‘I've told you before. Don't tell me to calm down. It's so patronising.'

‘You're all right, Claire,' said Len.

‘Do you know what it's like to see your friends kicked in the stomach and being pulled away by their hair? Do you know what it means to be frightened every day that something terrible is going to happen? It's not a joke, lots of women getting beaten up. It's not just a nice story to tell at a coffee morning. You can't imagine it.'

‘I can imagine it,' said Matthew.

‘I don't see how. You only became a clergyman so you wouldn't have to fight.'

Her father coloured up. ‘That's below the belt, young lady.'

‘I wonder, Celia, if you would like some of this delicious salad?' I interrupted.

I could see she was starting to get in a state. ‘Your father always wanted to be a cleric. Don't you dare put it any other way.'

‘We KNOW,' Claire was almost shouting. ‘It's hardly a secret. You should be proud of it. Conscientious objection. It has a noble history, even if people did get shot for it.'

‘Don't bring that up now. That's family.'

‘We ARE family,' said Claire. ‘This is my family. Martin and Lucy. And Len and Vi. We're one family. Don't you think they should know rather than we all keep pretending?'

‘Your father has nothing to be ashamed of.'

‘Except in front of people who actually fought.'

Matthew was dignified. ‘You don't know what it was like. You can't even imagine the horror, sitting there with your friends on a campsite. It's easy enough to protest in a time of peace. It's a lot harder in war.'

There was silence.

‘I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't mean to hurt you.'

Her father looked at Len and me and said, ‘I got as far as the bayonet training. We were told it was important to hate your enemy. We had to run at sandbags in this field outside Aldershot. I couldn't do it. I couldn't imagine hating anyone.'

‘It's the one word Matthew won't allow,' said Celia. ‘The children have always been able to swear if they want to but we won't have the word “hate” in our house.'

‘And yet so many of my friends were killed. And my brother, of course. You would think I would be able to hate but I just couldn't do it.'

It all came back to me. Not that it had ever gone away. Claire's father saying ‘of course', like the death of a brother in war was the most natural thing in the world.

He turned to his daughter and spoke quietly. ‘It was a lot harder to say no then. You were stigmatised. Some people never recovered.'

Len put down his knife and fork. His fingers were resting on the edge of the table like they always did when he was waiting to speak. ‘I think you should put a stop to this conversation,' he said. ‘You're all right, Matthew. Let's not go into this. Long time ago. Things are different today.'

‘I'm sorry this has come out,' said Celia. ‘I do think it's best if we change the subject.'

‘And anyway,' Len went on, ‘plenty of padres were killed. They were there with the troops. That was brave enough. They saw enough death. Lots of burials to get through.'

‘That's what Matthew did,' said Celia. ‘He was always by people's side when it mattered. He has high moral principles.'

‘Not high enough for some, alas.'

‘But I'm sure that's where your daughter gets her ideals from,' said Len.

‘I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean it. I'm very tired.'

She stood up and kissed her father on the top of his head. Then she put her arms round his shoulders and he took her hand.

‘That's all right,' he said. ‘I forgive you.'

‘I'll get the pudding. It's lemon meringue pie.'

Her father rubbed his hands together. ‘My favourite.'

When his daughter was in the kitchen Matthew said, ‘Claire always did have such high expectations of people. Perhaps that's what happens to the children of clergymen. They want so much goodness and then they find that there just isn't enough of it in the world to go round. They get so disappointed.'

I could hear Claire singing as she took the pie out of the oven.

You can forbid nearly everything
But you can't forbid me to think
And you can't forbid my tears to flow
And you can't shut my mouth when I sing
.

I made Martin promise to ring me twice a day: as soon as he had left the house in the morning and then again at six o'clock when he was on his way home. He didn't like to call from work, and he wasn't at his best on the phone, but I was determined not to lose him. We would have a life together no matter how much pain we had to go through.

The phone calls weren't ideal. Sometimes Martin was distracted in the mornings by all that he had to do in the day and then, in the evening, he was tired and he wanted a drink and a bit of a relax, preferably with me. A phone call was never going to be enough, he said.

‘Well, you know what to do about that. Just get in the car.'

He told me it was a bit more complicated than that and he was going to come and see me and talk about it all. He hadn't told his wife about us yet because it was difficult. I suppose he thought I'd understand.

‘What's so difficult about it?' I said.

‘It just is.'

I knew that the longer I left it the more likely he was to stay with her. He would get used to everything being normal again and she would make it impossible for him to leave.

‘You don't still love her, do you?'

‘There's a lot between us. It's hard to throw it all away.'

‘There's a lot between us too. I was first; remember? You haven't got over me; neither of us has got over each other. That's what this is about.'

‘I know, but it's hard, Linda. I do love you but …'

‘Don't start giving me any buts,' I said. ‘Don't even think about speaking to me if you're going to use the word “but”.'

Sometimes when you wake you know that there is something wrong or something you have forgotten. But then it comes, back again, the trouble you hoped sleep would take from you, reasserting itself in the daylight. Claire was sitting on the edge of the bed. As I began to focus I saw that her towelling gown was belted rather than left loose.

‘What?' I asked. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Waiting for you to wake up.'

‘Do you want me to make the coffee?'

‘Not yet.'

‘What is it then?'

‘I'm looking at this pebble. I haven't seen it before.'

‘Where did you find it?'

‘In your jacket pocket. I was sorting out the dry cleaning. And I found this. Quite special, I imagine.'

‘I've had it for ages.'

‘But there's a date on it. Didn't you notice?'

‘You'd need a magnifying glass to see anything on that.'

‘Well, it's just as well I've got one.'

I turned away from her. ‘It's a pebble. There's nothing to see.'

‘I think there is. And I think there's something to tell.'

‘There's nothing. It doesn't matter.'

‘Well, I didn't give it to you.'

‘No.'

‘So that makes me wonder who did.'

‘It's nothing. It's not important.'

‘Turn round and look me in the eye. What kind of marriage do you want to have, Martin?'

‘I thought we knew.'

‘What if I think you've changed your mind?'

Had my father, or even Vi, said something? Claire couldn't know anything for sure.

‘Stop being aggressive,' I said. ‘You were the one who went away.'

‘Oh, so it's my fault now, is it?'

‘I'm not saying that.'

‘I was trying to do some good in the world. One little bit. I was trying to make a difference.'

‘What?'

‘Are you sure you haven't got something to tell me?'

‘Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to tell. I missed you.'

‘I know, Martin.'

She couldn't.

‘And do you know how? I could tell from the way Vi looked at me. She's a nice enough woman but she can't keep a secret. I could see it in her eyes. She knew something. And your father. They were different with me.'

‘No, they weren't.'

‘Yes, Martin, they were. They were kind to me. They've never been that kind to me in the past but on your birthday they were kind to the point of
pity
. Anyone could have seen that. Even my father noticed, for God's sake. Everyone knew except me. You've embarrassed me. Embarrassed and humiliated me in front of my own family.'

‘Don't get upset. It's all right. I haven't done anything wrong.'

‘Don't get upset? What am I supposed to do?'

‘Nothing happened.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. If you're going to go on like this then I wish it had.'

‘So there
was
something.'

‘No,' I said. ‘There wasn't.'

‘You've never got over her, have you?'

‘Who are you talking about?'

‘Oh, for God's sake. Who do you think? I'm not stupid but I'm not going to acknowledge it by saying her name. I'm not going to pollute my own mouth.'

‘It was ages ago.'

‘But you've seen her again, haven't you?'

‘I went home and she was there.'

‘I thought this was your home.'

‘You know what I mean.'

‘No, Martin, I don't know if I do. I see you didn't feel the need to tell me about anything.'

‘There's nothing to tell. And anyway you weren't here, in case you hadn't noticed. It's not me that's in the wrong. You're the one that went away and got arrested. I came home. I'm here. I would have looked after our daughter and supported you both if you hadn't taken her away. What do you want from me?'

‘Honesty.'

No
, I thought,
no, you may think you want it but you don't want that at all
. I heard my father's voice in my head.
Don't make it worse by telling her
.

‘I didn't do anything,' I said.

‘No? Then what is this pebble then?'

‘It's nothing.'

Still she sat on the edge of the bed. ‘No. That's not good enough, Martin. You remember when we agreed we would always tell each other the truth?'

‘Yes, but …'

‘I want to know the truth. There's no point pretending everything's all right when it isn't. I want a marriage with truth in it.'

‘I've told you,' I said.

‘You haven't.'

‘I have.'

‘Oh. Don't tell me. She threw herself at you. There was nothing you could do. You didn't intend it to happen. You're sorry. Look at me when I'm speaking to you.'

I had to keep lying. ‘There's nothing to say,' I said.

‘I see. So she gave you this stone as a thank-you present.'

‘We went on a walk.'

‘A walk? Is that what you call it?'

‘Is there something wrong with that?'

‘Think about it. And then I'll tell you what you've done.'

She stood up, took off her wedding ring and put it on the bedside table. Her eyes had become blood-red at the corners.

‘Well?' she asked.

‘It's difficult, Claire.'

‘What's difficult?'

‘This conversation.'

‘Did you sleep with her?'

Claire was staring at me and I tried to look away but I knew that she wouldn't let me. I had to keep going but I couldn't see how it was ever going to stop.

‘I asked you a question. Did you sleep with her?'

‘Yes,' I said.

‘Linda?'

‘Yes.'

In the silence I tried to imagine everything she might do – sink to the floor, hit me, walk out and never be seen again.

‘Why?' she asked.

‘I don't know.'

‘You don't know?'

‘Because I missed you. Because you weren't here.'