At breakfast Sophie said, ‘What did you think of Rob, Mum?’
‘I thought she was very interesting. So enthusiastic about what she’s doing. Did you work late?’
‘A bit after 10. I looked in on you but you were fast asleep. Would you mind if she came again? We got so much done and she liked it here. If it doesn’t worry you.’
‘It’s a relief to have something else to think about.’
‘It’s just the most interesting thing in the whole world.’ Her eyes were shining; yesterday’s misery was forgotten.
That explained the new sheen on Sophie. She was in love, not with a man, but with a film.
‘I’ll tell her. Next Friday night, and we’ll bring in the food.’
You won’t keep that up, Ella said firmly, but to herself.
Kindly meant, no doubt. How many offensive things were kindly meant.
At least Sophie left for work without asking her if she would be all right. That was an advance.
In the hall, the phone rang. She picked up the handset and heard Caroline in distress.
‘Mother? Oh, this is terrible. I can hardly take it in. It’s just … I can’t believe it’s happened. Sophie said Dad had left, is that right? Really gone for good? Is that right?’
‘I’m afraid so, dear.’
‘And with that woman? I can’t believe it of Dad.’
‘It’s been a shock, yes.’
‘Mum, why didn’t you call me? I would have come straight away, you know that.’
Oh, dear.
‘I know you would have. I just … well, it was the shock.’
‘But you were alone. You shouldn’t have been alone. What actually happened? When did you know?’
‘He asked for a divorce, that’s all. He said he wanted to marry her – Louise.’
While he was tying his tie.
‘And then he left? Like that?’
‘I asked him to go. It seemed the best thing.’
‘You must have needed support. I wish you could have turned to me.’
Ella, who never wished to hurt Caroline’s feelings, managed it too often without trying.
‘I suppose I just wasn’t thinking, not acting normally.’
‘She said you were out with your student.’
‘That took my mind off things, I suppose. I realise I should have rung you, dear, but I knew how upset you’d be, and somehow …’
‘It wasn’t very nice, hearing it from Sophie.’
‘Well, we’ll talk it all over on Sunday. We’ll talk about it then.’
‘Yes.’
Saddened by the tone of that last word, Ella wished as she put down the phone that poor Carrie didn’t take things so much to heart. She had a just grievance; Ella hadn’t thought of her at all on that terrible first day – she hadn’t thought of anyone, or perhaps not thought at all, but there had been time since to acknowledge Carrie’s rights as the eldest child, married woman and mother. She might well resent getting the news from Sophie.
Ella hadn’t been much of a success as a mother, either, as far as poor Carrie was concerned.
Pam arrived at 10 o’clock. Thin, dark and strongly featured, deprived for the moment of her usual alert and cheerful air, she looked forbidding, but put her arms round Ella and hugged her.
‘That’s that, then,’ she said.
‘Yes, that’s that.’
Pam drew a deep sigh.
‘What a mess.’
‘Yes. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘Unless you’d rather get slightly drunk. Nothing vulgar, of course. Enid’s minding the shop and I brought a bottle.’
No wonder deserted wives turned alcoholic. People seemed to expect it of them.
‘I tried that the first day. It didn’t work.’
This was the third day.
‘He was standing at the dressingtable tying his tie and he asked me for a divorce.’
Her voice quivered with rage and remembered astonishment.
‘Just like that?’
‘Well, very nearly just like that. Not much notice, I can tell you.’
‘And it’s for good?’
‘Yes.’
Pam got up to fill the kettle and switch it on.
‘You didn’t ever have an inkling? No suspicions?’
‘You mean, how did I manage to fool myself so long? I’ve been asking myself that. I knew there was something wrong; we never seemed to have anything to say to each other any more. I tried to ask questions about the research and he just passed them off, but I thought they were probably silly questions.’ She winced, realising just how silly they must have been. (Have you made a breakthrough? Do you like working with Louise?) ‘You know, when there’s a noise breaking into your sleep and you don’t want to wake up, you can dream a long, complicated dream that explains the noise away. When you do wake up, you’re astonished that it was only a minute. You don’t follow me?’
Pam was looking troubled.
‘I follow you, but you don’t sound like yourself. I never heard you talk like this before.’
‘I was never in this situation before. I hated it, the time he spent with her, but I had the situation wrong. I was jealous for the children’s sake. Seeing she’d been his student and the brilliant great success, I thought she was the brilliant child he’d never had. I thought she made up for his disappointment over David. Mind you,’ she spoke with an excess of energy, ‘if he hadn’t driven David from the age of two with number games and mind-stretching exercises … well, that’s past history. I hated it, but in a way I thought I had it coming.’
‘Oh, how could you? Don’t talk such rubbish.’
Pam spoke from the workbench where she was pouring coffee.
‘Something I had on my conscience. There’s cake in the blue tin. What I did … It’s worried me for years. You remember when David got the selection to go to Sri Lanka with the under-nineteens?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘And he was so happy. Didn’t say anything, but so happy. You know what it’s like to see someone so happy that you’re frightened for them?’
Pam nodded.
‘Like they’re juggling with the heirloom china. I feel like that when a girl comes into the shop to buy a dress for her wedding, even if I don’t know her. I’m thinking, Oh, God, make it last, while I’m bringing things for her to try on.’
‘Well, that’s how I felt about Sri Lanka. I didn’t think I’d feel safe till he was on the plane. Then I got a call from the school, the headmaster wanted to have a chat with me about David. I went up there in a panic, and there were the headmaster, Mr Crowe the head maths teacher and Mr Wellings the sportsmaster. It’s such a relief to get this off my chest. I’ve never told anyone about it before. David hadn’t been in any trouble, but he’d put in his choices for Year 11 and he’d taken two unit Maths instead of four unit. I suppose it did have something to do with Sri Lanka, in a way. The story was, too much cricket, not enough study. The headmaster said that David was an underachiever with a brilliant mind. A genius IQ, he said. They didn’t believe in pressuring but they were hoping he would mature and begin to work to his ability. He had a special aptitude for mathematics and their hope was that as the work became more challenging he would involve himself further. That was the maths teacher talking. I didn’t like the look of him. I didn’t like the look of that man at all. They were very disappointed with David’s choice of history as a major. They’d got poor old Wellings there to say how uncertain the life of a professional cricketer was. He said David was pretty certain to make it to State level but after that it was dedication and a lot of luck. I hated that, too – getting poor old Wellings there, like an awful example of what was going to happen to David if he didn’t do his maths. I suppose they were right about that. Well, they said, “Talk it over with the Professor and let us know what he thinks.” And I didn’t. I should have told him and I didn’t. I don’t know why. He wouldn’t have stopped David going to Sri Lanka.’
‘You can’t be sure, can you? You didn’t really trust him.’
‘It was that maths master. I don’t know. I didn’t like the look of him. I didn’t say anything to anyone. I thought it over and I wrote them a letter, very pious, nothing like a bit of religion if you want to shut people up. I said that if David had been blessed with special gifts, their purpose would no doubt be revealed to him in … I don’t think I actually said in God’s own time, but that was the idea.’
Pam was grinning.
‘Fear of thunderbolts? I like that “blessed with”. That’s a nice touch.’
‘I felt guilty the whole time, but I did it.’
‘Religion aside, it was plain commonsense. They were David’s gifts and he was the only one who could dispose of them.’
‘We haven’t seen much sign of them yet.’ Ella sighed. ‘I look back now at poor old Wellings and I think, is that David in thirty years or so? Not much of a future for a genius IQ.’
‘Too much ambition in this world. If David was mine I wouldn’t want him different.’
‘How did I get on to that? Oh, yes. Thinking she was … you’ll believe anything before you can take it in. Rejection, I mean. I keep forgetting you’ve been through this. But that was different. You left him.’
‘Oh, yes. I left him. So he got married and lived happily ever after with a very nice wife and two lovely kiddies. Two children. Three. When Thomas said he wanted to go and live with them, it murdered me. I’ve never got over it. Do you know, I’ve wondered ever since what I really feel about Thomas? He comes with presents at Christmas and my birthday and Mother’s Day – I wish Mother’s Day had never been thought of. Such suitable presents, I’m sure she picks them. I feel like saying, “Don’t bother.” I just give him money. I know, if he was ill or in trouble, I would care. Of course I would. But I have to keep asking myself, like digging at a sore tooth.’
She lit a cigarette and as usual looked round for an ashtray. Ella as usual got up and fetched one from a cupboard.
‘Why Pam, I never knew you were so unhappy.’ She was shocked at the sight of a stranger’s face, the alert, cheerful expression pinned on and held by an act of will.
‘I’m not unhappy all the time. It just comes over me now and then. I trained him for her – that’s what galls me, mostly. It was the divorce that woke him up to himself. But then, she’s the little homemaker and I’m not. I don’t give a damn for him and I’m happier in the shop. And I know in my heart that it’s better for Thomas. So there you are.’ Suddenly, she shouted with rage, ‘But this makes me burn. Oh, this makes me burn all right. That man never waited for a meal nor wanted for a clean shirt. You’ve done all the working years, brought up those kids alone, for all the help you got from him, and now!’
‘He worked such long hours at the hospital and then there was so much study when he took the university job,’ said Ella and wondered why she was defending a dead marriage. Out of habit, no doubt.
‘I was hoping for too much from that trip to England to the conference, because we’d been so happy in London. Cold and poor, but young and happy.’
‘I’m a tactless beast. Now I’ve made you cry.’
Ella hadn’t been aware till then that she was crying. Clearly, there were subjects not to be dwelt on. That other would be going with him to London to the conference. Perhaps that was what had brought him to the crisis, the moment of confession.
She wiped her eyes.
‘No use in crying, is there?’
‘Sometimes it helps.’
Pam picked up the cups and took them to the sink.
‘Leave them. You’d better be getting back to work.’
‘I don’t like leaving you alone. Though I don’t seem to be doing much of a job of cheering you up.’
‘Well, at least you’ve given me a good example. I never could have guessed that you were carrying a load of misery.’
‘But I’m not. Not always. It just hits me now and then. It doesn’t last, believe me. Most of the time, I’m quite happy. To tell you the shameful truth, the thing that’s hard to bear is that someone else is happier.’
The face bloomed in Ella’s mind, bloomed, died and vanished.
‘That really is – pardon me – salvation, being able to accept the others’ happiness.’ She added in embarrassment, ‘And that is the sermon for today.’
Ella did not think she could ever reach that salvation.
‘Give yourself time. If you’re sure … I’d better be getting back.’
She saw Pam off with the promise to ring her if she was needed.
Meanwhile, there were lamingtons to be made for Saturday’s fete. If she were to produce the promised six dozen, she must start the sponge today. She got out the ingredients and the mixing bowl, but while her hands were busy with the sponge, her thoughts were revisiting the past.
There had been two crises of conscience: David’s mathematics and Caroline’s illness. Think of one and along came the other.
Could she really have been responsible for Caroline’s mysterious, psychosomatic illness?
No, no. Not possible. It was overwork and worry about the public exams. Poring over her books with that strained, bleak look, poor girl. Why was everything so difficult for Caroline, so easy for the other two?
It was a coincidence, that was all. A little thing like that …
Nevertheless, she examined the evidence, as she had done so often before, with the familiar sympathy for poor Carrie squeezing her heart. Outshone in all things by David, Caroline had turned to virtue for compensation. It had not rewarded her much. In spite of constant praise from teachers, for diligence, neatness, punctuality, trustworthiness, she had not been made a school prefect. Ella, who spent much time wishing intently for some small triumph for poor Carrie, had hardly been able to contain her disappointment. Who could blame the girl if virtue toppled over now and then into self-righteousness and a bit of mischief-making?
Caroline must have hurried home from school that day. She had come earlier than usual, looking for Ella in the kitchen.
‘Mum. I’m worried about David. He’s taken up smoking.’
Ella had said sharply, ‘Are you sure? How do you know?’
‘One of the girls told me. He’s been seen smoking in the playground at lunchtime.’
‘What are the teachers doing? Why don’t they stop it?’
‘Oh, Mum. Teachers can’t be everywhere at once. The boys go into the bush near the bottom fence. Not very nice boys, either. Now David’s started going with them.’
There was nothing to be seen in her face but genuine concern. That was one point on which Ella was still uneasy, that Caroline had appeared so convincing.
‘Don’t you think you should tell Dad? You know how he is about smoking?’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Ella had said, meaning that she would think about Caroline.
She had had no intention of involving Bernard – quite the last thing to do if one wanted David to give up smoking, the sort of thing Martha would call counter-productive. She thought only of extricating Caroline from the situation without hurting her feelings.
When she was alone with Caroline again, the next day, she had said, ‘About that business – it’s no use telling Dad, you know, if we want David to give it up. That might just make things worse. Why don’t you have a word with Mr Wellings? He has a lot of influence with David. He could tell him it would be bad for his cricket, that’s an argument that would impress David.’
‘I can’t talk to Mr Wellings. School doesn’t work like that.’
‘You’re David’s sister. You have a legitimate interest.’
Caroline was shaking her head.
‘He’d just think I was talebearing.’
Had she really read something in Ella’s eyes to cause the terrible disintegration? the dreadful look of panic terror coming as slow as a dawn? then the rage that had twisted her whole body, bending it forward as if she were going to vomit?
Ella found it hard to face even the memory of it, though she had faced it often enough.
Caroline had run away and Ella had been glad of it. At dinner she had been quite her usual self.
Yet Ella had been shocked and mortified, for she had expected Caroline to be appeased by the suggestion. Being sent to consult with Mr Wellings should have increased her self-confidence, surely? And if it had been a mistake, what a little thing … the symptoms had appeared soon after: headache, fever, joint pains, then the mysterious red, raised blotches for which no explanation could be found.
She had been overworking. That was all there was to it. She asked too much of herself – so Ella told the doctor, who had been explaining that psychosomatic did not mean imaginary. There was certainly nothing imaginary about large red raised blotches.
‘An unhappy love affair?’ the young man had asked, as if Ella with her talk of overwork had been hiding something.
‘Good heavens, no!’
The look he had given her was not sympathetic.
‘It’s not out of the question. She is a very beautiful girl.’
‘She doesn’t seem to be very interested in that sort of thing.’
Confusion had made her sound prudish, though she would have been delighted to see Caroline find an object for her affections.
The quick, closed look and the ‘I thought as much’ nod had been for Ella, not for Caroline.
Until then, Ella had not questioned her performance as a mother, nor the quality of her marriage, which was certainly not cosy, but, like a large, imposing house, impressive, though a little draughty. Caroline’s illness had been an accusation. When the doctor had suggested a change of climate, she had taken his meaning, painfully.
‘She’ll have to repeat the year. That would put her in the same year with her younger brother, who doesn’t have so much trouble with schoolwork. Perhaps if she went away to school?’
What guilt will do for you. She had positively been playing for the young man’s approval with her air of concern, though the concern was real, and playing quite in vain. He must have had serious trouble with his mother.
‘So long as she doesn’t see it as rejection,’ he agreed.
Giving up, Ella had snapped, ‘She’d have no reason to.’
The alternative was to dispose of David, who must be allowed to have some right to live.
In spite of the daunting expense, she had urged the move to the boarding school at Moss Vale, concealing the real reason as if it were a guilty secret and using the doctor’s advice as a pretext. Bernard had agreed. His conferences with the doctor had taken a different tone, no doubt, since the young man had been deferential and perhaps had not had trouble with his father. Ella had wished those conferences more frequent, but Bernard had objected that medical etiquette forbade his interference and there was nothing he could do. He might have been as troubled as she was, for he gave in fairly readily over the ruinous school fees.
We weren’t communicating even then, about our child’s illness, and I didn’t protest. I seemed to take it for granted, though I felt the lack. Well, he had paid the fees – to do him credit, he did care for the children’s welfare, in his own way, and the move had been a success, Caroline coming home for holidays healthy and cheerful. Repeating the year had helped, too – she had passed the exam very comfortably and qualified for entry to her course in physiotherapy.
It was all to the good, thought Ella. She must have been very unhappy, the trouble would have come some time, even if that was the last straw, it was only a straw.
But how she wished she had not been the one to place it on the camel’s back – if indeed she had. Such a thing – it didn’t seem possible, yet she could never forget it nor absolve herself. Poor Carrie.
One failure after another and now the last and the worst. As she slid the second tray of raw sponge into the oven, she said to it grimly, ‘You had better rise, that’s all.’ The day the cakes stopped rising, she would give up.