| |
CHARLOTTE, THE HOME Help, was twenty-eight with a pudding bowl haircut, a grey sweatshirt and a monotone. She explained how to manage everything while Noonie stood by Charles’s bed trying not to look too much of a freeloader.
Behind her, Valérie stood with her feet apart and her arms folded across her blouse. She was here solely to ensure Noonie paid attention and she left the room as soon as it became clear Charlotte was winding up. The rain pitter-pattered against the windows. The wind shook the trees. Charlotte gave Noonie a leaflet.
“Now, ring me if you need anything. In here, you’ll find ... Have you ever heard of ‘the Internet’?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Have you got access to it?”
“I’m sure I can get access to it.”
“This is the website of the Alzheimer’s Society. Do you read English?”
“Yes.”
“Cool. Now, don’t worry about letting me out. I think Ms Swinter-Jones wants a word with me first.”
Noonie waited until Charlotte had left the room. She checked Charles was okay then resumed reading.
She’d never heard of Prakong Yanphaisarn before – though apparently he lived on Phuket - but she was astonished by how thorough a job he’d done. All the details of her early life were here, beginning with the death of her parents. Her relationship with Alice and Georgina filled eight pages, with another two devoted to her reunion with Adirake. But the bulk was a diary account of her courtship and marriage: twenty pages. A real keepsake. And this was just the potted version. According to the preamble, Valérie had declined a fuller version, claiming she didn’t have time to read it.
The final section was an explanation of the dowry system beginning with Thai history and sociology and shading into her particular case on page three. She read on with declining interest, but suddenly her hair stood up. She gasped.
The amount of money paid by grooms varies. However, the twenty-one million Bahts disbursed by Charles Swinter is, to my certain knowledge, unique. Two hundred thousand is the most I recall previously. That was a decade ago and it was universally considered exorbitant.
There had to be some mistake. She read on. But no. Prakong Yanphaisarn was categorical. It finished:
In the opinion of the author, the dowry system is ludicrously outdated anyway. Even so, twenty-one million Bahts – some three hundred thousand pounds sterling, at current exchange-rates - is scandalous. With respect, its payment might under other circumstances be seen as evidence of a feeble mind. It goes without saying that the Kitkailarts are guilty of breathtakingly cynical opportunism.
It didn’t make sense. Where had the eighteen million - ?
David Blameworth.
Numb with shock, she put the report down on Charles’s bed and walked to the window. The rain was driving against the glass now and everything outside looked grey and brown.
Then a wave of euphoria swept over her, as powerful as it was unexpected. She put both palms on the window pane and beamed.
Charles hadn’t been ill at that point, not when he’d paid her dowry. So Prakong Yanphaisarn’s superciliousness meant nothing. Charles had been willing to pay the whole earth for her. He must have loved her.
She suddenly became aware that her cheeks were damp. She’d been smiling a moment ago, now this. What was happening to her? He’d loved her. That was what.
She couldn’t tell anyone, not even Edward. No one would ever understand. They’d argue and try and undermine it. It would have to be her secret for life. He’d loved her.
“Are you all right?” said a voice.
She turned round. Susan, in a long-sleeved blue dress.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m okay.”
“Don’t be unhappy. I’ll help you with Charles. I’ll look after him while you go out with Thanongsak if you like.”
She smiled. “I don’t think it’s quite reached that stage yet.”
“But it might do and if it does, I’ll look after Charles. I’ll look after him now if you like. I enjoy looking after him. We have conversations about Vivienne. He’s in contact with Vivienne. I mean, don’t be jealous or anything. I’m sure Vivienne accepts you.”
“That’s nice to know.”
“Come to my room. I’ve got something to show you.”
Susan’s ‘Book of Grandma’ was a scrap book of photographs of Vivienne, plus letters and notes from her telling Susan to behave and get a decent manicure. Some of these were addressed to a secure clinic at Clermont-Ferrand, where Susan had lived for two years at Vivienne’s expense.
Vivienne obviously loathed Valérie and despised Charles, but her love for Susan – despite all Susan’s apparent shortcomings (of which there were allegedly many) – was undeniable.
“I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf,” Susan said, getting into bed with her clothes on and pulling the covers over her. “That’s why I’m so glad you persuaded Edward to go out with me.”
“How did you two meet? Was yesterday the first time?”
“Absolutely not. We met at Vivienne’s funeral. I was distraught that day. Then Edward came over. He put his arm round me and read me a poem and asked me on a date. I threw a wobbly and he stroked my hair and said, ‘Susan’ really softly. Then I suppose he must have got cold feet because he didn’t turn up. But Vivienne wants us to be together, that’s what he doesn’t know. She always gets what she wants.”
To her surprise Noonie felt jealous. “Has Valérie said anything to you yet?”
“Oh, you bet. She can go whistle. She goes: ‘Susan, you needn’t think you’re dating Edward Grant, I hate the ground he stands on.’ Or something like that. ‘You can’t stop me,’ I said. ‘I can throw you out of the house,’ she said. And I said: ‘So it’s your house now, is it? I’d like to see you throw me out of this place. I’d just chuck a brick through one of the windows and climb back in.’ I mean, it’s not her house, is it? It’s Charles’s. I told her that. I also said, ‘Wait till Charles is dead – he’s probably going to leave me this house, not you, and then Edward and I are going to live here with our children.’ That made her think. Edward and I will have the big bedroom at the end, where Charles is, and I’ll make this room into a Nursery. If Charles is still alive when we get married, you and he can keep living here. And you can keep living here for the rest of your life, if you like. Do you know why? Because I like you.”
“Well, er, thank you.”
“More than that actually. I want to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Will you be my ... confidant?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like a friend you tell everything to - in confidence, of course. And they tell you their secrets. And you have midnight feasts and things and watch TV in your nighties with cream cakes. And you go shopping and talk about men over a latte. And you swap clothes. I’ve never had a confidant before.”
“I don’t know whether it’ll work. I mean, one of us will have to look after Charles...”
“Come to that, I’ve never really had a friend before, let alone a confidant. Unless you count Vivienne. The girls at school never liked me.”
“We could try and make it work, I suppose.”
“Come on, Noonie. Charles is one of us. We could move the telly into his room and all watch it together. He’d probably like Sex in the City and he could suck on a cream-cake. And he’s in his dressing-gown most of the time anyway, so he wouldn’t have to get changed particularly.”
Noonie smiled. She liked the idea that Susan hadn’t given up on Charles. “Let’s do it,” she said.
Later that afternoon, armed with the web address of the Alzheimer’s Society, Noonie toured the house.
She found what she was looking for in one of the spare bedrooms at the rear. Narrow, with a single window overlooking the garden, a bureau and an unmade single bed, it was nevertheless distinguished by a new-looking computer.
She let herself in, closed the door and switched on the monitor and disk drive. It made all the right noises and there was a cable running to a telephone-point in the skirting-board.
She browsed through the desk drawers while it loaded. This was her husband’s property, after all. There was a medal in the top one: a Maltese cross with a purple ribbon. It looked as if it had seen better days. The second was full of Christmas and Birthday cards, all from men in California – ‘Love, Spike’ and ‘Happy Birthday Cheeky Charlie, Regards Alvin’. Third drawer: more medals, tiny, plastic, obviously fake. It didn’t take much imagination to envisage what Charles might have been doing in California with a group of men and some medals. But nothing could surprise her any more. She pushed each drawer shut, more dispirited than angry.
Suddenly, there was a beep. She looked at the screen. Please enter your log-in name and password. Her heart fell.
She made several guesses: ‘Charles’ for both, ‘Charles’ with a combination of other words - ‘Swinter’, ‘Black Gables’, ‘Thailand’ - for the password; but without success.
She was about to give up and shut down when the door opened and Valérie looked in, her expression changing from irritation to indignation.
“What do you think you’re up to?”
“I’m looking on my husband’s computer. Is there a problem with that?”
“There is a big problem, actually ... Thanongsak’s downstairs and you’re keeping him waiting.”
Noonie sighed. She went to ‘Shut Down’. She stood up, brushed past Valérie without acknowledging her and went downstairs.
Thanongsak was sitting in the Living Room. He stood up and smiled.
“I’m afraid I can’t talk for long,” she said in English. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“I won’t keep you,” he said in Thai. “I came to invite you to eat at my restaurant.”
“Now?”
“Not right this minute. Say, Wednesday night.”
“Just you – and me?”
“That’s right.”
“A date?”
“Of sorts. If you want to call it that.”
“I don’t. I know Charles isn’t exactly going to object, but I’ve only been with him two days. To start dating seems a bit disrespectful.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to call it that. I take your point entirely. Just two friends, from the same place, sharing memories? Surely, that’s not too much to ask. And the Goong Kaprow is excellent, believe me.”
“I - I don’t know. I can’t make it on Wednesday. I’d need someone to look after Charles and I’m not sure Susan’s going to be available.”
“Really? You’d leave Charles with Susan?”
“What’s wrong with Susan?”
“It’s - ”
“Who else would you suggest?”
“I was thinking of hiring a private nurse for the evening.”
“Wouldn’t that be quite expensive?”
“I can afford it, believe me.”
“You must really want a friend.”
“If it’s you we’re talking about, I really do.”
Then she had an idea. She’d spent much of that day feeling jealous of Susan’s supposed claim on Edward. Perhaps she could counteract it by making Edward feel jealous.
“Wednesday, then,” she said.
Edward switched the computer on. While it was loading and connecting, he scanned the draft of a paper he was working on for Modern Plastics Research. It was even more disappointing than the last time he’d read it. He put it aside and went to his mailbox. He wrote:
Dear Georgina,
Hope you’re back safe and well and not too jet-lagged. If you can send me your bank details, I’ll deposit some money in your account more or less immediately. Any news on how the investigation is going?
Charles has Alzheimer’s. He recognises no one, neither Noonie nor I. As things stand, she wants to look after him until he dies. Given how he looks, I don’t think that can be too far away.
One further development: I told Noonie I love her. It’s too long a story to go in to but I was backed into it. She claims to feel the same about me, but I don’t know how much of that is desperation. Apart from me, she’s pretty much alone over here.
I will ensure that she’s all right, whatever happens.
Edward.
He clicked Send. He read his other e-mails: newsletters, memos from colleagues, junk that had slipped through the filter. Noonie was coming round at seven so he couldn’t be long: he had to tidy up then wash and change. He still had no idea what she wanted to see him for. Hopefully just for the sake of it.
Suddenly, a message arrived in his Inbox. Georgina.
Dear Edward,
Thank you for writing so promptly. The journey back was fine, as am I. Don’t worry, I do trust you. I know we’ve only recently met but I definitely like what I found. I don’t think Noonie could be in safer hands.
I know she’s supposed to know nothing of our connection, but I’d be grateful if you could hint – ever so sweetly and innocently – that she rings me? And Tasanee? We’d both love to hear her voice. I guess she’s been too overwhelmed to call. I’m interested to know how much of her predicament she’ll come clean about. My guess is, none. She’s pretty big on protective reassurances.
You asked how the investigation into the dowry is going. Very well. I was on the phone to Prakong Yanphaisarn earlier today and he’s got nearly enough evidence for a criminal charge. It’s simply a case of tying up a few loose ends. Of course, they are sometimes the most time-consuming thing so we must be patient. But we have excellent reasons to be optimistic.
Finally, for what it’s worth, I know Noonie loves you. When you get old you lose all egoistic interest in the machinations of young people. What seemed so opaque appears more and more of an open book, until you can’t believe you ever lacked the ability to read it. I know she loves you just as I knew you loved her. Do with that what you will.
Georgina.
Dear Georgina,
She’s coming round to see me for reasons unknown, at seven o’clock GMT tonight. I’ll make my ‘ever so sweet and innocent’ hint then and hopefully she’ll use my phone.
Edward.
By twenty past seven, he was beginning to wonder if he’d heard her properly. Or maybe she’d forgotten. Then there was a knock on the door.
She was wearing faded denim jeans and a cream blouse. She gave a darting glance to one side as if she might have been followed and stepped inside.
He closed the door. He had not planned anything like this, but something told him it was now or not at all. He put his arms around her and moved his mouth towards hers. She looked straight back at him. He tightened his grip and kissed her.
She wrapped her arms round him and pulled her body into his with such force he felt he would have to stop for air. She wrapped her left leg wrapped round his thigh. He unbuttoned her blouse. They fumbled their way upstairs with their lips stuck together so they could pretend not to notice what they were doing.
They undressed. Oh, he was pleased he had changed the sheets yesterday. God, he hoped they wouldn’t topple out of bed. Part of him wanted to laugh with delight; part of him was trembling with fear.
“I’m having my period,” she said.
“Sorry, I - ”
“Pull it out.”
“Pull what out?”
“There’s a piece of string.”
“Won’t it hurt?”
“It’ll hurt anyway. Do it gently.”
“But if we - ”
“It doesn’t matter. And it means there’s hardly any chance of me getting pregnant.”
“I know, I’m a scientist.”
He pulled it out and they clutched each other and sizzled with the urgency. As he passed into her, it was as dark and solemn as it was joyous.
Afterwards, they held hands and searched one another’s pupils for twenty minutes. Then Noonie had to get up. He made her tea while she was in the bathroom and when she came out he suggested she ring Thailand.
She went into the Living Room to use his phone. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could tell she was in the same high rapture he was. Afterwards, they went upstairs and had sex again. Then they lay silently.
“I have to go now,” she said at last. “It’s nearly nine o’clock. I don’t want you to come with me. If we’re seen together there could be ... repercussions.”
“Let me ring you a taxi.”
She sat up and pulled her socks on. “I’m going to walk. It’s not late.”
“Can I ask you something?”
She smiled. “I think we’ve established we can be pretty open with each other.”
“What did you come round here for? I mean, I wasn’t expecting to have sex with you. It just, somehow, seemed ... well, right. The same must be true for you: I mean, not expecting ... ”
“I didn’t have a pretext to begin with but I thought of two later.”
“A spare one, for emergencies?”
“Necessity is the mother of invention. I had to see you again.”
“Not as much as I had to see you. So what were they? these pretexts?”
“To begin with, I wanted to use your computer to check the Alzheimer’s Society website.”
“And second?”
“More serious, this one. I thought you might be able to analyse some ... some hair for me. You’re a scientist, right? You must have contacts who do that sort of thing?”
“Hair? You mean a DNA test?”
“Yes.”
“I could never have anticipated that. Not that it’s a problem. Why?”
“Long story. I’ve got a twin brother. We were separated at birth. I was ‘re-united’ with him about ten years ago. At least, that’s the story.” She took an envelope from her pocket and revealed two bunches of hair held together with sticky tape. “Mine’s ‘N’; his is ‘A’. Not that it matters whose is whose.”
“Of course I’ll arrange it. I’ll let you know in about a fortnight.”
“Really? That soon?”
“That soon.”
“I wonder whether I really want to know,” she said. “I don’t even know what difference it’ll make now.”
“The truth’s the truth. It’s always worth knowing. But your choice.”
“You’re right.”
She handed him the envelope. She had finished putting her clothes on. She shook her hair and went downstairs.
“Don’t go yet,” he said, following her. “I’ve something for you.”
“What is it?”
He held up a front door key. “After our talk last night I wanted you to have a place to fall back on. Here. Take it. This is our house now. Let yourself in and out as and when you want. Whatever’s mine is yours.”
“You were going to give me this – anyway? I mean, even if things hadn’t worked out like they did?”
“There’s no turning back. On that much, I was determined.”
She slid her arms around him and kissed him. “Don’t lie to me, will you, Edward? No secrets. I’ve had my fill of secrets since meeting Charles.”
“No secrets.”
She let herself out onto the street. He listened as her footsteps got fainter then closed the door.
