‘Well, I’ll go and knit a doormat or something,’ Deirdre said.
‘They’re out on the point — coming back here, I expect,’ Teresa said, lowering the glasses and turning to her sister-in- law. ‘The boys look terribly brown. So do you, Deirdre. How long have you and Marshall been back from Greece?’
Deirdre went over to a low table and lit a cigarette from the lighter standing there. ‘A week. Sorry I didn’t send any cards. The house still smells shut up, doesn’t it? It’s almost as hot in Norfolk as it was on Milos. I can’t believe it.’
‘There was nothing but rain and cloud here all June.’
Deirdre swung round to confront Teresa.
‘Look, let’s not beat about the bush, Tess. How much longer are you going to keep the children over at Grantham with your mother? It’s bad for them and for everyone. You know Tom’s still willing to have you back. I think you should stop acting up and return to Pippet Hall at once.’
‘That’s really our private business and nobody else’s.’ The words were said defensively. Teresa clutched the binoculars and looked anxiously at Deirdre, who was a head taller than she. Deirdre promptly wreathed herself in smoke.’ It’s not simply a question of his “having me back”, as you put it. I just can’t take his unfaithfulness any longer. Sorry, but I just can’t.’
Grace came into the room, carrying a large cat.
‘Get out, will you?’ Deirdre told her oldest child. ‘I’m having a row with your aunt.’
As Grace faded from the scene, pulling a face, Deirdre said, ‘I wanted to say this to you before they return and Tom finds you’ve arrived. I personally am baffled, completely baffled, by how you are behaving. This talk about Tom being unfaithful — I mean, you realize that’s old-fashioned for a start?’
‘You’d probably call it by a nastier name. It hurts me, as it does most women. Men think they can get away with too much.’
‘Well, Tom doesn’t think that because Tom isn’t that kind, though he may have had a bit on the side occasionally. I want to say two things to you. First of all, you ought to try and realize that he’s experienced difficulties in life — well, so have we all; but last year and this are in a way his great years. A\s I see it. They’ve come a bit late, but they’re wonderful for him. Last year, the excitement of conceiving the “Frankenstein” series and getting it filmed and the book written; then, this year, the tremendous success of the book and the series. The book’s reprinting and they’re now re-running the series, in case you haven’t bothered to watch the box, with all your other enterprises. It’s a triumph for Tom and for the family. You realize that he thinks he’s doing something for England, for the West — silly though you probably find that. And in the middle of it all, you — you have to muck everything up, so that he’s left Pippet Hall in despair and gone to live in his club in London. How do you think he feels? You’re his wife — haven’t you more sense of him as a person than to let him drift like that?’
‘I didn’t make him leave Pippet Hall, did I? Nor did I make him go with that woman.’
‘Laura Nye, do you mean?’
‘Oh, I expect he’s brought her here often. You probably know her well, which is why you take her side.’
‘Don’t be cheap. That’s my role. I met Laura twice last year. But that’s all past — you’ve been told it’s finished, over and over again. That was your excuse to muck about yourself, wasn’t it? My God, how you grabbed it with both hands! So what if Tom did have it off with Laura Nye? She was one of the actresses in his drama. She was literally a passing fancy. He’s got to do something while he’s travelling to all these fancy locations, Hollywood, Malaysia, and so on. If I were in Singapore now, I’d be having it off with the nearest Chinaman, I can tell you!’
Teresa put the binoculars down on the window sill, carefully, to conceal her trembling. ‘I don’t want to have this discussion, Deirdre, sorry. I came over here to see Tom, not you. How you would behave in Singapore is nothing to do with it. Tom obviously preferred the girl to me. He’s old enough to be her father. You speak as if the tragedy’s all his, but believe me it’s mine too — ’
Coughing angrily into her fist, Deirdre said, ‘What thought processes do you use? Your mind is stuck on clichés. “He’s old enough to be her father”, indeed! Just try and understand what that may mean in real terms. Tom’ll be fifty next year. That’s not a very comfortable age for men. He probably saw this fling as his last chance, as something to bolster his flagging libido. I don’t know, he doesn’t confide, but I can make intelligent guesses about the situation, and you should do the same. You should ask yourself why he needed that reassurance in the first place.’
‘Oh, stop it, Deirdre! Talk about clichés, you sound like an Agony Column yourself. A successful man like Tom needing reassurance from me…’
‘Of course he does! You’re his wife. Don’t be so blind. He kicked Laura out and returned to you, didn’t he? You turned your back. Agony! — You think he’s not lacerated by your unhappiness? Why aren’t you lacerated by his? And he bailed your business out earlier this year — to the tune of several thousand pounds, I heard.’
‘He was obliged to, Deirdre…’ She put her chin up. ‘I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but Tom was legally bound to sort that out. If I hadn’t been so upset, my business would have flourished. You think I don’t suffer? I just don’t make a fuss about it. After all, I was the one left at home alone. It’s humiliating to have your husband chasing some bit of goods, humiliating, and then you watch them laughing together on TV, and know everyone else is watching, admiring, too. And you expect me to catch the repeats… Do you think I can get over that? I’m disgraced.’
Deirdre stubbed her cigarette out in a shell ashtray. ‘Of course you were hurt. Okay, then you had your consolation and got back at him. Put your claws away, stop erecting all these items into an ideology of grievance, and be a proper wife.’
‘There’s just one difficulty you prefer to ignore…’
Teresa paused. Deirdre looked at her suspiciously. ‘What’s that? You’ve got another bloke?’
‘I don’t love Tom any more.’
Deirdre sat down. ‘Don’t say that to Tom.’ She got up again. She moved over to one of the windows and opened it a trifle wider.
‘You’re no chicken yourself, Teresa. You’re four years older than me. “You don’t love him…” That’s a bit more ideology of grievance, if you ask me. I mean, at your age, you and Tom should steadfastly continue to love each other. By rote, as it were. You’re not in your twenties. When a man goes a bit haywire at the male menopause, okay, his wife stays by him, supporting him through a year or two of rough water, and after that they become closer than ever; his gratitude will ensure that. But if you lose that chance — which you’ve already bungled… You’ve got the wrong idea about love, deserting him when he probably needs you more than ever.’
‘Deserting… Oh, Christ, it’s like being in a trap of words…,’ said Teresa, moving unhappily round the room.
‘Don’t rush about. We’ve only got words since you’ve turned down actions.’
‘Tom’s fine, just fine. It’s only his pride that’s hurt — he’s mad because I actually dared to go away with another man to Malta for Christmas, because I pleased myself for once. He’s off to Sicily in September. He’ll probably find a woman for himself there.’
‘God, you bitch, what a mad round of pleasure you make it all sound!’
‘Look, Deirdre, maybe you hate me. He doesn’t need me. He needs me at home. That’s different. He just needs me at home, keeping Pippet Hall in order. The wife in her place. You know he is proposing to open the place to visitors, now he’s such a big success?’