From her window after Sunday lunch, Daisy could see Roly and Nat setting off with the dogs: she looked anxiously for any sign of tension between them, checking their body-language, but they seemed to be at ease with one another, rounding the dogs up, closing the gate, disappearing towards the ford. She turned back into the room, still not quite at peace with herself, longing to know how Nat had reacted to Roly’s confession and remembering her own shock when he’d told her about Mim’s accident.
‘Don’t crucify yourself,’ he’d said, driving home yesterday evening. ‘I think Kate’s right and good will come out of all this. It has to. I must come to terms with it and somehow let Nat know that it doesn’t matter.’
‘How will you do that?’ She’d felt heavy-hearted with guilt, huddling in the seat beside him. ‘God, I’m just so stupid.’
‘I’m the stupid one for not seeing for myself. Stop it, Daisy. If anyone should be feeling guilty it’s me. It’s my fault that my marriage split up. Because of my weakness Nat was exposed to a great deal of emotional blackmail. He had to try to hold the balance between Monica and me, and nobody can tell what effect that might have had on him. It’s possible that, now I know, things might be easier for him. I just need to let him know that I know.’
‘But how? I don’t see how you can possibly begin that kind of conversation.’
‘I think I shall start by telling him why Monica left me. Kate pointed out, quite rightly, that it had a catastrophic effect on his life and it might be fair to give him an explanation.’
‘He doesn’t know why Monica left you?’
‘He knows it was because I started drinking even more heavily so that I began to lose clients but he doesn’t know why. Nobody except Mim knew until a few weeks ago. Then I told Kate: it was the most wonderful catharsis.’
‘That’s what she meant when she talked about having secrets?’
‘Yes. Having a secret is a burden and it was a huge relief to shed it after all these years. That was thanks to you.’
‘To me?’
‘Yes. You said much the same thing during a telephone conversation; that not being open and honest, especially with people one loves, is bad for the soul. Kate was with me at the time and quite suddenly I was able to talk about it. It didn’t absolve me – it’s not that simple – but it’s freed me from keeping such a shameful secret of it. Now it’s time that I told Nat that my carelessness, due to the fact that I’d been drinking heavily, was the cause of Mim’s accident.’
There was a short shocked silence before Roly recounted the scene almost exactly as he’d told it to Kate.
‘I shan’t tell anyone.’ It was the only thing Daisy could think of to say when he’d finished. ‘How awful . . . for all of you.’
‘Yes. And now it’s time Nat knows the truth. That’s how I shall begin, by telling him the truth about the accident. I shall ask him to lunch tomorrow and take it from there.’
‘I’ll keep right out of the way,’ Daisy promised – but Roly shook his head.
‘No, don’t do that. Join us for lunch but find some good reason for leaving us together afterwards. I hope he’ll be able to come down; I might lose my nerve if I can’t do this quickly.’
Nat had accepted the invitation and the lunch had been fun. Afterwards Daisy merely said that she’d got a few ideas she wanted to get down on paper and, back in the stable flat, she’d played The Starlight Express CD, recently arrived from Opus, and tried not to wonder how the conversation was going between Roly and Nat. It was a relief to see them come out together, clearly at peace with one another, but she still longed to know if Roly’s objective had been achieved.
The thought of his part in Mim’s accident horrified her, and she’d tried to comfort him by pointing out that Mim’s international contribution to the world of theatre and dance had been far greater than if she’d simply remained a famous ballerina.
‘She’s inspired so many artists,’ she’d said, ‘and touched so many lives through them.’
‘That’s true,’ he’d agreed. ‘Perhaps you should think about that aspect of it yourself.’
‘Oh!’ She’d been disconcerted. ‘But then I was never going to be a famous ballerina.’
‘All the more reason, then, to think about it.’
Daisy couldn’t help smiling to herself as she remembered this riposte. Roly was right, of course. She might do far more good encouraging other people’s talent than trying to force herself on beyond these injuries into third-rate jobs: an offer like Mim’s was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Suddenly the music swept her back into the creative world that had begun to construct itself in her mind: she saw shapes and images, characters and enchaînements. Who would sing the parts of the Laugher and the Organ-Grinder? Should they be dancers too, or set apart as narrators? Who would dance the roles of the children: Monkey, Jimbo and Jane Anne? She allowed herself to be drawn into the music and it seemed hours later that she heard the sound of the gate closing and Uncle Bernard barking.
She got up quickly, unable to wait a second before seeing how they looked. Nat was talking, describing something with gestures, and Roly was listening, amused. They both broke suddenly into great shouts of laughter and Daisy felt as if she might fall apart with relief. Roly glanced up towards the window, as if guessing that she’d be waiting on tenterhooks, and beckoned to her.
‘Tea,’ he called. ‘Come and have some tea before Nat goes.’
Nat glanced up. His face was freed from that tight wariness and she knew at once that, somehow, his private burden was a secret no longer and that Roly had succeeded in his mission. Full of hope she went down the steps to meet them.
‘Did you do it? You must have done. He looks so . . . carefree.’ Daisy could barely wait until Nat’s car was splashing off through the ford before she asked the question. ‘Gosh, I’ve never been so strung-up in all my life, and that’s saying something.’
‘I managed it.’ Roly sat down on the bench and the dogs came to him, tails wagging, tongues lolling. He murmured to them mechanically, stroking them with hands that very slightly trembled. ‘I told him about the accident. He was very generous.’
Daisy sat down beside him. ‘He didn’t blame you?’
‘No. No, he seemed much more concerned with how it had affected me than how it had damaged him. He was . . .’
‘Compassionate?’ suggested Daisy as Roly cast about for an adequate description of Nat’s reaction.
‘Yes, that’s a good word. Compassionate. It made it very easy for me to take the same line with him.’
‘But what did you say? How did you let him know that you knew?’
‘I cheated,’ admitted Roly. ‘I remembered how Kate had said that, once she knew, she allowed Nat to see that she knew and that a kind of complicit understanding began to exist between them. I decided not to be brutally honest but to imply that this was something I’d always suspected.’
‘But how?’
‘My confession led on to talking about Monica and her reaction, the difficulties that Nat had had to contend with always being between the two of us, and I said that it must be quite a relief to have someone like Janna who understood the truth and made no demands on him. He went rather quiet, and he coloured up, but after a moment he muttered something about him and Janna having a very particular kind of relationship that helped to cover up for him. Something like that. So I said I thought that was splendid and I only hoped that she didn’t begin to think that he might be able to change. He asked me what I meant exactly and I said that, though I could well imagine the temptation it might be for both of them, it would be dishonest for him to commit himself to the role of husband and father. Not only that, but it would be wrong for him to pretend to be other than the person he is. He looked a bit shocked but I could see that he was struggling to come to terms with the fact that I actually knew the truth about him and it didn’t affect the way I cared. He said that Janna was beginning to think they could make it together as a couple and that a baby would be the glue to help them stick to it. I’m afraid I was rather brutal at that point but it seemed to ive him confidence to hear me speak out so strongly against such an idea. He mumbled something like, “I wasn’t sure you knew,” and I just clapped him on the shoulder and said, “It couldn’t matter less to me as long as you’re happy,” or words to that effect, and then he did an odd thing.’
‘What?’ asked Daisy breathlessly into the sudden silence. ‘What did he do?’
‘He began to run. He shouted to the dogs and he ran, jumping from rock to rock and waving his arms like when he was a little boy, and the dogs jumped up at him and barked and they all went quite berserk for about five minutes. It was extraordinarily moving.’
‘How utterly perfect.’ Daisy let out a great breath of contentment. ‘You can imagine how he felt, can’t you? All that relief and happiness just spurting out of him. Oh God, Roly. I think I might cry.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Roly at once. ‘None of that. I can’t cope with weeping women. I’ll pour you a drink. That’ll do the trick.’
They got up and went inside, the dogs prancing at their heels, and Daisy watched as Roly fetched a bottle of wine.
‘Wouldn’t you like one too?’ she asked curiously.
‘Oh my God, I’d kill for one just at this moment.’ His face was suddenly bleak and she put her hand to her mouth in distress at her own tactlessness. ‘I daren’t, you see. I daren’t trust myself. It caused so much damage and it was so hard to control it once I started down that road. Don’t look like that. I shall be fine with a glass of apple juice. It’s just occasionally that it hits me. This was one of those moments.’
He passed the glass of wine to her, poured some juice into a tumbler and held it up as if toasting her.
‘Remember what Kate said? Good has come out of it.’ He touched his glass against hers. ‘To Daisy, the fearless.’
She laughed. ‘And to Nat,’ she said.