‘True…’
‘Perhaps she should have humoured her old father?’
‘Yeah, maybe in private she would have done – but not after her sisters spewed out all that bilge. The critics all concentrate on the father-daughter relationship, but that scene is more about siblings – she knows she loves her father more but she can’t bring herself to compete…’
‘Good – you’re obviously thinking about it. So, would the play be better if Cordelia had lived?’
‘Well, less grim – more balanced.’
‘But is that the nature of tragedy?’
‘I guess not – but there’s that bit at the end where Albany says everyone should get their just deserts.’
‘And do they?’
‘No. Yeah, I know – small character flaws lead to big disasters in tragedies.’
‘Maybe it’s not Cordelia you should be concentrating on here, but Lear himself?’
‘So her death is just part of his tragedy. The final punishment for rejecting the person who loved him most.’
‘Exactly. But don’t forget there is also redemption – before her death, and his own – he recognises her goodness and his own love.’
‘Still, it’s quite depressing.’
‘Yes, it’s a bleak outlook – perhaps a world where Cordelia might not want to go on living? Have a look at the existential critics. You don’t have to agree with them – just be aware. Have you read Hamlet yet?’
‘Yeah, sort of, but I need to go through it again. So much happens. I mean, King Lear is our set Shakespeare tragedy, but Mrs D wants us to know Hamlet for what she calls a comparison text.’
‘Would you like to have a session on Hamlet tomorrow?’
‘Yeah, that would be really helpful.’
‘Good. On that note, I think I will go and make some tea.’
Marianne hobbled to the kitchen, thinking back to her daughter Izzy. Izzy had been bright and diligent but she hadn’t ever wanted Marianne to help her with school work – at least not after the age of eleven. As Marianne filled the kettle, Leah appeared at her shoulder. ‘Thanks again, Gran, for taking me to that concert last night. You know I really didn’t want to go.’
‘I could tell.’
‘I mean, two hours of classical music – I would never have chosen that.’
‘So how do you feel about it now?’
‘Pleased I came – it was awesome, but I feel so ignorant about music.’
‘Your parents do seem to have neglected your musical education – you know, your father was quite a good pianist as a child.’
‘Dad? Wow, he never said. I shall have to ask him to play something.’
‘Now I have another proposal – for this Friday. I have two tickets for Richard II at the Arts Theatre – would you like to come?’
‘More Shakespeare? I don’t know… If it was like, another tragedy, then maybe it would be relevant…’
‘There’s more to life than just your A-levels, you know. Anyway, it was originally described as a tragedy and you will find plenty of parallels with Lear if you want them.’
‘Alright, yes. Sorry, I don’t mean to appear ungrateful…’
‘It will be a pleasure to have your company. Now if you help to carry the tea through we both need to get back to work.’
17
‘Listen to this,’ said Marianne, sitting at her desk and reading from a typescript in front of her. ‘“K screaming at V again. He has sent him back for another stint cleaning the guns. He always picks on V. Perhaps because he is Latvian and not German. Now I won’t see him again till Sunday. I hate K – I hate his smarmy politeness to us (obséquieuse politesse, she writes, she really didn’t like him) – and the way he bullies his men – especially V. I hate him as much as I love V.” Then she goes on about whether to tell V she loves him.’
‘Amazing to discover this.’
‘Yes, it is fascinating – I can’t deny it.’
Dorrie got up and walked across to the desk. ‘I always thought you looked on Anna as a kind of reincarnation of your own daughter Isabelle, and that was why you were so fond of her – but this Latvian connection adds a whole extra twist. Does she know?’
‘Yes, I told her.’
‘So how old was your mother?’
‘I think she was seventeen – or perhaps just eighteen – when she got pregnant.’
‘And who is K?’
‘He is the German officer billeted on the family. He lives in the house and the men live in the stables.’
‘How come your mother never told you? I mean, about who your real father was?’
‘That’s the great mystery. I used to think it might have been a rape, or something she felt ashamed of, but from the diaries it seems like a real love story. I feel sure there must have been some reason she wouldn’t talk about it, but if so, I haven’t discovered it yet.’
Dorrie poured them both some more tea and then settled back into her armchair. Marianne envied Dorrie’s easy mobility. All walking was painful to her now and she often preferred to sit at her desk rather than sink into an armchair from which she would struggle to extricate herself. How old was Dorrie now? Eighty-two? Eighty-three? Unlike Marianne, she had refused to go grey, and her hairdresser had created a colour which was remarkably like the natural hair of her younger days. Much shorter now, but it still conveyed that certain spirit – that panache – which Marianne had always found so attractive. Dorrie had been her best friend now for over half a century; their brief spell as lovers had ended amicably, and rather than damage their friendship it had served to cement it.
‘How much longer do you have Leah staying?’
‘Callum and Helen are back next Friday.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘She’s gone into town today. I mean, she’s eighteen now. I can’t keep her locked up all the time…’
The telephone had started to ring on Marianne’s desk. ‘This might be her now,’ she said, picking up the receiver. ‘Hello?’
Dorrie watched Marianne as long periods of silence were interrupted with the occasional ‘yes’, and ‘that’s true’. Clearly this wasn’t Leah. The one-sided conversation seemed interminable but ended with Marianne agreeing to someone coming to visit her the following week.
‘What on earth was all that about?’
Marianne sat staring across the room. She said nothing.
‘Darling, whatever is it? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘It does feel like a ghost. But… no – it’s just some researcher who’s been burrowing in the old Soviet archives. Seems my name has come up – from the time I was arrested. He wants to hear my side of the story. God knows how he got hold of my number.’
‘Surely you don’t want to have to think about all that again?’
‘I don’t really…’
‘Why not tell him to bugger off then?’
Marianne paused. She had gone very pale. ‘I don’t know – anyway, I didn’t.’
‘I’ll call him back for you; tell him not to come…’
‘No, don’t do that. I’ve done plenty of research in my time. It’s only fair if those who can still remember talk to these young guys. I don’t mind.’
‘I think you do mind.’
‘No, honestly. I should see him.’
‘Well, I won’t let you see him alone. I’ll be your minder.’
‘It’s OK – really, I’ll be fine.’
‘Don’t be stupid – you’ve no idea who this so-called “researcher” is. Maybe some Russian gangster.’
‘Anna will be here.’
‘That’s not the same.’