‘Err, I don’t know, really…’ said Jake, shooting a quick glance at Leah.
‘It doesn’t matter, honestly…’ said Leah, looking embarrassed.
‘No, look, I’ll ask. It might be possible.’
‘Don’t put yourself to any trouble, Jake, but if you could enquire,’ said Callum. ‘I could organise something at our office, but architecture isn’t really her thing.’
‘Sure, I’ll ask tomorrow.’
‘Thanks,’ said Leah.
‘No problem – email me your CV.’
‘There’s not much to it – but will do.’
‘And just watch those pine nuts,’ said Juliette.
When all the cold dishes had been prepared, the meat cooked and the umbrellas arranged at an angle to provide the maximum area of shade, they all sat down and drank a birthday toast to mother and son.
‘Wow,’ said Leah, looking across to Jake, ‘twenty-six – not far off thirty then.’
Jake gave her a brief smile. ‘About as far as you are from being fourteen.’
Callum then proposed a toast, wishing Leah good luck with her A-level results.
‘What’s done is done, Dad. But if drinking will improve the results, then, hey, fill up my glass again. What’s more, we should drink to Gran – my very own professor and super-patient tutor. Without her I wouldn’t even have got off the starting blocks.’
Marianne smiled. ‘You worked hard, Leah, and you deserve to do well.’
Later that afternoon, after they had eaten their meal and Claire and Marianne had retired for a nap, Juliette asked after Marianne.
‘She’s doing well, thanks,’ said Callum. ‘Walking hurts her, but mentally she’s as sharp as ever. Mind you, she was quite shaken up by that Russian business. Did you hear about that?’
‘Mum mentioned something. Some young Russian turned up out of the blue and started accusing her of betraying his grandfather fifty years ago.’
‘Yes, that’s more or less it. I was furious when I heard about it. I mean, if the KGB were intent on persecuting his grandfather they can hardly have needed to rely on some naïve young English woman – as Mum describes herself at that time. So unfair to attack her at her age.’
‘Was Auntie Manne really a spy?’ asked Jake.
‘No, she was just a young academic researching her PhD, but she got involved with some American diplomat who may have been – that’s why they arrested her.’
‘How come Auntie Manne never married again?’
‘I suppose she never met the right person.’
‘But Uncle Ed did.’
‘Yes, my father married again,’ said Callum.
‘Men always do,’ said Juliette, ‘they’re useless on their own. Tragic that your parents ever split.’
‘Yes, I never really understood the explanations. She has always tended to blame herself.’
‘That’s because Marianne thinks well of everyone, but from what my mum told me Edward wasn’t as saintly as she thought.’
‘That sounds like Aunt Claire being bitchy because Peter played away.’
‘Hmm, I can’t remember exactly what she told me, but she had chapter and verse at the time.’
‘I honestly don’t think that’s likely,’ said Callum quickly.
‘OK, Cal, I don’t want to tarnish the memory of your father – nil nisi bonum, and all that.’
‘How old is Gran now?’ said Leah.
‘Eighty-eight,’ said Callum.
‘Well, I’m glad to know she’s well,’ said Juliette, ‘because when I spoke to Mum earlier this afternoon she seemed a bit worried about her – though she couldn’t say why.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t worry about Marianne,’ said Helen, looking across the table to Callum. ‘She’s a real tough one – will make it to a hundred if you ask me.’
‘I hope she does,’ said Jake. ‘I think Auntie Manne’s a star.’
‘A super-star,’ said Leah.
Part III
and my duty
Is to dare all things for a righteous end.
19
She looked at her alarm clock – 6.20. Turning on the bedside light, she started to move her hands to get through that first pain barrier of exercising the swollen and arthritic joints – necessary so she could get a firm grip on one of her sticks. Now peel back the duvet, manoeuvre into a sitting position and swing feet onto the floor. She sat at the edge of her bed for a few moments to settle herself and make sure she felt well balanced. Then, taking a stick in her right hand, she pushed herself up, grimacing as she did so at the sharp pains in her hips, steadied herself, took four steps to the side of the room, put her left hand on the rail which had been fixed to the wall, dropped the stick, pulled up her nightgown and sat down on the commode.
Marianne had steadfastly resisted the idea of a commode in her room until the previous year, when yet another fall had convinced her that this was a disagreeable but necessary further retreat in the constant struggle of old age between aesthetics and practicality. After emptying her bladder, she reversed the process and returned to her bed.
Normally she would turn on an audio book – she was listening to a new biography of Coleridge, one of several which had come out in anticipation of the bi-centenary of his death – but on this morning she lay back and let her mind explore the days and weeks ahead.
Anna was not due till later that morning, so Marianne took the opportunity to make her necessary phone calls. At eleven o’clock she telephoned to explain to Callum but ended up speaking to Helen instead. Helen had been calm but Marianne thought she had detected a trace of exhilaration in her tone. Well controlled, of course, but there nonetheless. When Anna returned from the shops she helped Marianne walk to the small pond at the end of the garden. Returning to the house, Marianne called Dorrie. What a trouper, she thought, she didn’t hesitate for a moment.
By six o’clock, Dorrie was sitting in the armchair opposite Marianne with a whisky in her hand. Marianne sat the other side of the stove which Anna had fuelled up for the evening. She tried to explain her decision.
‘Not you as well,’ Dorrie said. ‘I won’t let you do it.’
‘I’ve made up my mind.’
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘You know I’ve been thinking about it for a while. We talked about it before.’
‘Yes, of course, in theory. But there’s no reason to do it now is there – or is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘No, not really.’
‘What do you mean, “not really” – have you been diagnosed with some new illness?’
‘No.’
‘So what is it then?’
Marianne struggled to know how to start. She said at last, ‘I think my time has come.’
‘Bollocks. Complete bloody bollocks.’
‘Dorrie, please try to understand.’
‘I do understand – at least I understand now why you’ve been behaving so strangely over the last six months. In fact, ever since that Russian was here. You’ve been brewing this up inside you.’
‘It’s true I’ve been thinking it over for quite a while.’
‘I don’t blame you for being upset about what he said. But honestly – to blame yourself in any way is ridiculous.’
‘Is it? I don’t know. Anyway, it’s nothing to do with the Russian. I have always believed in doing this. Particularly after my father’s death.’