The Wheel of Fortune (22 page)

“But he came back—”

“The next night, yes.”

“—and completed the seduction.”

“Yes. I couldn’t bear to see him so distressed, and when he broke his word I was almost relieved. I thought: Now I’ll be able to put matters right. But—”

“How many times did full sexual intercourse take place?”

“There were two more occasions but I didn’t mind, I was just so relieved to make him happy because afterwards the stranger disappeared and he was himself again.”

“And after the final occasion—”

“Margaret came home and the horrors began.” I closed my eyes for a moment and when I reopened them I found myself again staring at the sheet music on the table. “He told her straightaway,” I said. “I think that shocked me more than anything that had happened previously. I knew by that time that he couldn’t be trusted to keep his word, but he’d sworn he’d never tell her and he’d made me swear too … all for nothing. It destroyed him for me when he did that. I hated him. I felt betrayed. It was vile. I felt so filthy, so unclean, so absolutely
defiled
—”

“What did Margaret do?”

“She was very fierce and very ruthless. ‘I’m not going to let my home and family be destroyed by this,’ she said to us. ‘I’ve been through too much in the past and I’m damned if it’s all going to be for nothing.’ Then she said, ‘Let me think about what has to be done and then we’ll meet again in the morning.’ It was late at night by that time. I went to bed but I was so wretched, so overcome with shame and guilt and grief, that I knew I couldn’t bear to stay in the house. It was Margaret, you see … I knew I’d lost her love forever … the only mother I could remember … I didn’t know how I was going to bear it.”

“Yes.” He paused before asking, “What happened next?”

“I ran away. I thought the least I could do to make amends to her was to run away so that she would never have to see me again. And of course I was frightened of Bobby still, frightened that he would come to my room in spite of everything. I knew I could never live at Oxmoon again—it was all destroyed, the Oxmoon I loved, the Oxmoon of our childhood—the fairy tale had come to this terrible end and I had to escape somehow into the real world outside.”

“So you turned to Kinsella.”

“It was the only solution I could think of. I was so desperate—naturally I’d never have dared to approach him under normal circumstances, but I thought he might help me start afresh in Dublin—I thought he was the sort of unconventional man who might possibly be bold enough to come to my rescue. Well … you know what happened next. I rode to Porteynon, roused the whole household by mistake and wound up making a complete mess of everything. More horrors. Scandal. Ghastliness. The only gleam of light in the ink-black landscape was that I finally succeeded in capturing Conor’s imagination—that was when he realized that I was just the sort of woman he wanted. … But I didn’t tell him the truth. I just said I was unhappy at home. I never told him the truth, never, he tried to make me when he found out two years later that I wasn’t a virgin, but I said I’d had an accident riding and I stuck to that story through thick and thin. You see, I couldn’t talk about it, even to him. It belonged to the horrible evil fairy tale I’d left behind; I felt that if I once talked about it to anyone afterwards it would become part of the real world and I didn’t see how I could possibly live with it. … Oh God, I was so frightened that he’d find out but luckily although he never quite believed in the riding accident, he always thought the lover was you—and he never suspected Bobby at all.”

There was a pause. Presently when I was more composed I said, “There’s not much more to tell you. Soon everyone believed I’d had a row with Bobby and Margaret about Conor and that I was being sent to live with my godparents because I’d behaved so disgracefully. I didn’t mind by then what people thought. I was just so glad to escape to the Applebys.”

“And Kinsella? How had you left matters with him?”

“In all the uproar we barely had thirty seconds alone together but he told me I was magnificent and that I was to wait for him while he went to America to make some money. He swore he’d never forget me and that when he came back we’d be married.”

“And you believed that.”

“Oh yes, I was much too young and romantic to do anything else. But in fact, as even a cynic would have to admit, his attitude was credible enough. I did have thirty thousand pounds. I was, as Margaret would say, ‘fetching.’ Conor was proud, too proud to marry when he was penniless, but once he had a little money behind him it wasn’t so surprising that he thought it worthwhile to return to Europe to collect me.”

“True. But you lost faith in him, didn’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have become engaged to Timothy.”

“I never entirely lost faith in him, but Robert, as time went by I began to see another horrible prospect drifting towards me and I knew I simply had to marry to escape it. I didn’t dare wait for Conor any longer.”

“Oxmoon?”

“Exactly. I was terrified that in the end I’d have to go back. You see, once Margaret became confident that she had Bobby in control she was quite shrewd enough to realize how odd it would look if they didn’t offer to have me back; they couldn’t go on exiling me indefinitely because of my mad behavior with Conor.”

“Margaret discussed this with you, I assume.”

“Yes, she was very kind to me. She guaranteed Bobby’s good behavior and said I was never to think she wouldn’t welcome me back to Oxmoon whenever I chose to come. Oh Robert … I cried when she said that. I was old enough then to see how absolutely she’d saved us all … but of course I knew I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t trust Bobby, you see, no matter what she said. I knew I could never trust him again.”

“No, of course you couldn’t. So, in conclusion, you became engaged, disengaged and—finally—married.”

“Yes—out of the frying pan into the fire as usual. But that’s another story,” I said, and when I managed to look at him I saw he was smiling at me.

“Oh Robert …” I began to cry. I sniffed and snorted and huge tears streamed down my cheeks and I’m sure I looked a perfect fright. I’ve never had any patience with those romantic heroines who weep beautifully into dainty pieces of lace while the strong silent hero tells himself she’s A Woman Sorely Wronged.

“Why the devil is it,” said Robert exasperated, “that you never have a handkerchief? Here you are, take mine and start mopping.”

“Oh Robert, you do believe me, don’t you? I’ve told you the whole truth, I swear I have—”

“Yes, I realize that. Have another cigarette.”

I started weeping again because he was being so nice to me. I was in far too emotional a state to wonder now genuine his mood was and what it all meant. I was simply living minute by minute, second by second, and marveling that I should still be conscious after such an ordeal. I now thought of the ordeal as “over.” Where it left us I had no idea but I was for the present too relieved to care. At that point, I told myself, matters could only improve. Now that Robert had all the information at his fingertips he could sort it out, file it away, erase all trace of the mess and tell me how to live happily ever after.

Looking back I can see I was positively unhinged by my relief. In fact I was almost on the point of hallucination; as Robert lit my second cigarette I had no trouble seeing him as the hero who would forgive me everything and swear never again to mention my past.

“Very well,” he said, extinguishing not only the match but my sentimental delusions. “So much for 1896. Now let’s turn to your marriage. How often were you unfaithful to Kinsella?”

That shocked me out of my tears fast enough. It also brought me face to face with reality. My ordeal wasn’t over. On the contrary it had just begun, because although Robert had got what he wanted as usual—the truth—he couldn’t cope with it. Unable to bear the thought of me with his father he was now ricocheting in self-defense toward the murky waters of my subsequent sexual experience.

I knew very well that he had loathed Conor. In fact I was almost tempted to confess that Conor had been unable to keep me to himself, but fortunately despite my panic I still had the sense to see that any pleasure Robert might derive from this information would be utterly outweighed by his horror that I had given myself to other men. Robert was deeply jealous and very possessive. (This was now part of his attraction for me; in his jealousy and possessiveness I saw the shield that would protect me against predators.) However although I was willing to tolerate and even embrace this side of his personality, I did clearly see that a little jealousy could go a very long way.

Discretion was obviously called for.

“What makes you think I was unfaithful?” I said to play for time while I decided what to say.

“Ah come, Ginette, you may as well tell me about your marriage—why not? What could be worse than what you’ve already told me this morning?”

He had called me Ginette again. My spirits soared. Whatever happened I now had to avoid the disaster of falling at the final fence.

“But I was never unfaithful to Conor,” I said, assuming my most candid expression. “I loved him too much to look at anyone else.”

Robert gave me one long contemptuous look. Then he stood up and walked out.

“Oh my God.” I’d fallen at the final fence. Rushing after him I caught him up in the hall. “Robert, wait—Robert,
please
—”

“I can’t talk to you anymore.” He began to hurry up the stairs. “I can’t listen to lies.”

“All right, I’ll tell you the truth, I swear I will, I swear it, I’ll do anything you want …”

He took no notice. He never even looked back.

I hitched up my skirts and tried to race after him but I nearly fell flat on my face. Sometimes I think women’s fashions should be abolished by act of Parliament. I was wearing not only a hobble skirt but a vile corset, currently much in vogue, which reached almost to my knees in order to ensure that the skirt fell in the right lines.

I was still teetering absurdly up the stairs when I heard the door of his bedroom slam in the distance but I never faltered, and seconds later I was bursting across the threshold. “Robert,” I panted, “Robert,
listen
—”

I had grabbed his arm but he wrenched it away. “No hysterics. I can’t stand hysterics. I won’t tolerate them.”

“All right, I’ll be calm, look how calm I am, I’m so calm I’m virtually dead. Robert, I admit I wasn’t faithful to Conor, but I only lied to you because I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d make you even more upset—”

“
Upset!
That word’s so shattering in its banality that I hardly knew how to respond!” It was now obvious that he had lost his grip on the situation. He could no longer pretend he was my lawyer; our new sexual intimacy precluded him from assuming his familiar role of platonic friend and my revelations had turned his role of lover into a nightmare. He was beside himself. He had nowhere to go. His only escape lay into rage.

“You’ve consistently lied to me.” He could hardly speak. “You’ve tricked me, you’ve deceived me, you’ve—”

“Every word that I spoke about Bobby was the truth!”

“Oh yes! Just now! When you knew you had no choice! But last night—when I came to your room—”

Amidst all my terror I knew that my one hope of saving us both lay in forcing him to face reality.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Robert!” I burst out. “How on earth could I have embarked on the truth last night? Don’t be so absurd! A woman doesn’t say to a man who’s obviously got nothing but copulation on his mind: ‘Oh darling, I’m so sorry but I slept with your father when I was sixteen and I was just the tiniest bit unfaithful to my husband later on!’ God Almighty! Wake up! This is no dream, this is—”

“Reality. Quite. That’s precisely why I want to know how many men you’ve slept with.”

“Very well, I’ll tell you,” I said. “I’ll tell you exactly how many men have slept with me just as soon as you’ve told me exactly how many women have slept with you.”

He stared at me. In the baffled silence that followed I had a glimpse of that curious naivety which lay beyond his intellect at the hidden core of his personality.

“But I don’t understand,” he said, too astonished to sustain his anger. “What have my mistresses got to do with you?”

“Absolutely nothing, Robert. And my lovers and my husband have absolutely nothing to do with you either.”

He was floored. And he hated it. He could never bear anyone to get the better of him, and as his injured pride streamed to his rescue I saw him once more go white with rage.

But I stood my ground. I was convinced now I had nothing left to lose and in my sheer soul-splitting misery I wasn’t afraid of his rage and I no longer cared how much I shocked him as I used the truth in my defense. I heard him shout, “A man has a right to know the past of a woman he’s promised to marry—” but I cut him off.

“Shut up!” I screamed. “Don’t talk as if my past is a closed book to you when you’ve just put me through hell by forcing me to recall every damned minute of it! My lovers meant no more to me than your mistresses meant to you, so what the hell do they matter now? The past is over, it’s finished, it’s done!”

“But I was a bachelor—you were married! You had duties, obligations—”

“We’re not talking about marriage; we’re talking about copulation!”

“No, we’re not, we’re talking about marriage—
your
marriage—and what I want to know is—”

“All right, just you listen to me! You’re a criminal lawyer, you say, you’ve heard it all before, you say, very well, just you listen to this and see if you can make head or tail of it, because I don’t think you’ve heard it all before at all! It’s no good trying to give you an orderly rational explanation of my marriage because there isn’t one. Conor and I were the victims of what’s popularly known as a grand passion except that grand passions aren’t as they’re described in story books, in real life they’re quite different, you hurtle around between heaven and hell until you want to commit murder—or at the very least a dramatic suicide—my God, no wonder all the famous lovers in history killed themselves, I’m not surprised, that sort of passion’s enough to drive anyone round the bend!”