‘I simply didn’t know where else to turn,’ said Monica, following Kate into the kitchen. ‘He more or less threw me out.’ She made a disbelieving sound. ‘Of course, I was shocked and outspoken but, after all, what did he expect? Congratulations?’
Kate looked at the self-pitying face and realized that Monica, unlike Roly, only saw the situation as it related to her. It was clear that as far as Monica was concerned Nat was giving way to some kind of deliberate perversity simply so as to add to her burdens: how he felt or suffered was not important to her.
‘Perhaps he hoped for understanding,’ Kate suggested. ‘After all, I imagine none of us chooses to be different from the herd and it can’t be easy, even in this enlightened age, to come to terms with it.’
‘Understanding!’ Monica’s lips curved in contempt. ‘He knows very well how I feel about those kinds of people.’
‘But this is Nat.’ Kate sat down opposite. ‘Not “those kinds of people”. He’s your son.’
She was seized with a great weariness: Monica’s arrival was the last straw and Kate felt that her back might break beneath the weight of her emotional demands.
Monica looked at her, frowning. ‘You don’t seem terribly surprised,’ she said slowly. ‘Did you know he was queer?’
‘Yes, I knew.’ Kate struggled with a surge of great dislike. She found Monica’s self-righteous prejudice far more difficult to accept than the fact that Nat was gay. ‘He didn’t tell me but . . . I knew.’
‘How did you know?’ Monica’s face was sharp-eyed and pointy-nosed: ferrety with fear. How many others, she was asking herself, how many of my friends know? ‘How can you tell? He doesn’t look like one.’
‘If you mean he doesn’t dress like Elton John, I agree. My daughter-in-law wondered about it. She’s a very pretty girl who likes to flirt and after she’d met Nat a few times, and he didn’t respond, she asked me if he was gay. It made me think about it. Look, would you like some lunch or something?’
‘I couldn’t eat anything. I feel quite sick. I think I might go down to Roly. I can’t believe what he’ll say when I tell him.’
Kate watched with distaste as Monica’s expression changed to one of introspection, even to satisfied expectation, as she contemplated the possibilities of the situation that might force a more intimate connection between her and Roly.
‘Mim’s home for the weekend. And they’ve got Daisy staying. Anyway,’ Kate simply couldn’t prevent herself, ‘I think you’ll find that Roly already knows.’
‘No.’ Monica shook her head. ‘No way. He’d have said something to me.’
‘Are you sure? Knowing how you feel on the subject?’
‘Anyway, how would you know he knows? Have you discussed it with him?’
Kate was silent for a moment, seeing the pitfalls: Nat’s new confidence was built on his belief that Roly had known for a long time and nothing must shake that belief.
‘Not in that way. It’s just something that we’ve come to accept without finding it necessary to pick it to pieces. We love Nat and we want him to be happy. It’s very simple really.’
‘Roly knows and he never told me?’
‘Well, now that you do know, and seeing how you’ve reacted to it, can you blame him?’
‘And you. You knew and never hinted at it. That evening I came to supper and we talked about all those things . . .’
‘But none of those things was to do with Nat. We talked about you and Roly. And we talked about Jonathan . . . and how you hated him.’
Monica’s eyes grew dark and wide, her expression a mixture of anger and accusation. She stared fixedly at Kate, who felt that she was being willed into some kind of propitiatory response. The terrible needy emptiness behind the almost hypnotic stare demanded some kind of reaction that Kate was reluctant to give. She looked away, glanced at the kitchen clock and resorted to domestic platitude.
‘Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat?’
‘Quite sure. I think the best thing I can do is to go home.’
‘Home? But won’t you try to see Nat again? I know he said hurtful things but try to imagine what he must be feeling. Don’t do something you might regret. You could stay the night here and in the morning you might feel a little differently.’ With great effort Kate called up a measure of sympathy. ‘It’s a great shock. I can see that it will need a lot of getting used to and a great deal of understanding on your part but don’t go away in anger.’ She reached across the table to touch Monica’s hands. ‘Come on, Monica. This is Nat we’re taking about.’
Monica shook her head, drawing back her hands; her martyred smile indicated that Kate had no idea either of the enormity of the favour she was asking or how much Monica was suffering.
‘I’m beginning to remember why I was forced to flee to Jonathan in the first place,’ she said bitterly. ‘He was decent and kind and straightforward. It’s clear that Roly’s unreliability and weakness has manifested itself in different ways in his son.’
The telephone bell made them both jump. Kate got up to answer it whilst Monica reached for her bag.
‘Hello, Nat,’ said Kate. ‘Are you OK? . . . Yes, Monica did come here. She’s . . . fine. Hang on a moment.’
She held the instrument out to Monica with a look of hopeful entreaty. Monica gave a little sneering smile and turned her back. She went out and climbed into her car. Kate stood for a moment in silence, biting her lips. Presently she put the receiver to her ear.
‘Sorry, Nat. You missed her by seconds. She’s going back to London but I’m sure she’ll be fine. More to the point, how are you and Janna? . . . Yes, of course I can come over. I’ll be ten minutes.’
She grabbed her keys and ran out to the car. Afterwards she could never recall a single moment of the drive to Horra-bridge.
Nat met her at the door of the cottage.
‘I have to get back to work,’ he said anxiously. ‘The trouble is I don’t like to leave Janna. She’s in such a state. I’m sorry, Kate.’
‘Don’t be a twit,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Janna and I will be fine.’
‘Was Mum very upset?’
She stared at his pale defenceless face, the troubled eyes, and savagely wished retribution on Monica.
‘She’s being typically Monica,’ she answered. ‘You have to accept that Monica is totally self-centred, Nat. Nothing in life matters except as to how much it affects her. She can’t see people or their difficulties in any other light. She’ll come round in time and, meanwhile, all the hiding and pretending is done with. That’s great. It really is.’
‘I know. It was just . . . I was a bit brutal.’
Kate laughed. ‘Tough! Sorry, Nat, but it was her turn. Don’t do the guilt thing. Let it settle a bit and then write to her. Where’s Janna?’
They went inside together. Janna was sitting listlessly, huddled on the sofa in her shawl.
‘’Twas terrible,’ she said to Kate, her lips trembling. ‘Terrible. And ’twas all my fault.’
‘No, my darling, it wasn’t. Don’t take it to yourself. This goes back years to long before Nat was even born. That’s how life is. Tiny things – anger, resentment, selfishness, pride – all grow and mushroom out of control and when they finally explode lots of people are hurt by the fall-out. I think it’s fantastic that Monica knows and, let’s face it, this was the only way it was going to happen. Nat was never going to tell her.’
‘It’s true, Janna,’ he said. ‘I would never have had the courage.’
‘But don’t take that to yourself as some kind of weakness,’ cried Kate. ‘Your reaction to Monica is the outcome of the way she’s behaved to you for the last thirty-odd years. What goes round comes round. Look, there’s no time for this now. You must go or you’ll be late. Janna and I will be fine. Is there anything you need? OK. Drive carefully and don’t worry about us or Monica.’
She hustled him away and went back inside.
‘’Twas a mistake,’ said Janna miserably. ‘I was late doing my room and she suspected something. I got nervous because I knew Nat didn’t want her to know and she kind of tripped me up.’
Kate sat down beside her and took hold of the thin cold hand.
‘You did well,’ she said gently. ‘Honestly, Janna, don’t you think it’s better not to be pretending?’
‘Nat stuck up for me. He said this was my home and that the bedroom was mine and that Moniker’d better find somewhere else to spend the night.’
‘Did he?’ said Kate, impressed. ‘I should like to have seen that. Good for Nat.’
‘He meant it.’ Janna was clearly moved. ‘He really meant it, Kate. I wanted to go but he wouldn’t let me.’
‘Of course he meant it. Good grief, you’ve been his friend for years, the best he’s got. That’s why I don’t want to see you both cock it up with all this nonsense about babies. You have a right to be in Nat’s life without resorting to conventional codes and behaviour. You’ve got something very special. Accept it and enjoy it.’ She gave Janna a hug. ‘Look, why don’t you come back with me and I’ll make us lunch.’
Janna scrambled to her feet. ‘I can do lunch,’ she said. Suddenly there was a new and touching pride in her voice. ‘I made some soup in case Moniker was hungry and there’s rolls and some cheese.’
‘Good. Got anything to drink with it? Moments of crisis make me thirsty.’
‘Nat got some Merlot in for Moniker. ’Tis her favourite.’
‘Well, she won’t be needing it now, will she? Oh, good, he’s uncorked it, clever fellow. Pass a couple of those glasses, Janna, and then you can tell me exactly what happened.’