I felt a twinge of guilt. How easy it was for me to take things easy, whereas poor Matt had to trudge off to work at that second-rate college every day. But he loved his job. He always said that teaching was one of the most rewarding things one could do. I remembered he was still waiting to find out whether he’d have a permanent place on the faculty. I hadn’t asked him about it; I hadn’t been encouraging or sympathetic. I finished my coffee and marched to the bathroom, determined to call Mr. Fenwick as soon as I was dressed.
As I washed my hair, I thought again about our future. Perhaps if I’d had to earn my own living I would have been an entirely different person. I’d be quicker, tougher, smarter. As it was, I often felt as if I were drifting through life, acknowledging this but not really wanting to change it. I mean, no one really likes work, do they? Unless it’s their vocation – as I’d always seen Matt’s teaching. I blushed to think of that now; it seemed so patronising. Perhaps he would rather live my lifestyle – my easy, comfortable lifestyle – getting up when I wanted, reading books and watching TV, walking, swimming, visiting museums and art galleries, shopping, eating out, going to bars, seeing friends. What sort of person wouldn’t like that? I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped from the shower, resolute. Today I would do something, something concrete, something I could report back to Matt.
I telephoned Mr. Fenwick’s office and spoke to him directly. I was still slightly hazy about what Matt wanted me to ask but, after the preliminaries, I made a tentative enquiry about the transferral of funds.
“We’re still waiting for a few bits and pieces to be tied up,” he said. “But it won’t be a long before we’re able to transfer the money. A matter of weeks, if that. Are you short of funds, Maudie? Because I’m sure the trust can advance you something if it’s needed.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, pinching a fold of my jeans between my fingers as I spoke. I’d never really given much thought to how the money in my account ended up there. It was just there, always, endlessly replicating. I pictured a cash point machine, and behind the screen, a treasure-filled cavern, glinting with jewels and glittering golden coins. “I just – it was just I wanted to make sure everything was – was going smoothly.” Now I sounded like I didn’t think Mr. Fenwick knew his job. “I’m sure it is but – it’s just a big responsibility and I just wasn’t sure what I’m supposed to be doing–”
Mr. Fenwick soothed me. “Maudie, my dear, please don’t distress yourself. Dealing with the outcome of a will can be a very upsetting time, despite the obvious financial... advantages, shall we say, that it brings your way. I’m sure Angus knew that you would be sensible in dealing with things. I’m sure he knew you would be reliable and not, well, get carried away.”
I almost laughed. How little he knew me. And it made me realise that Angus must have lied about me or perhaps just evaded the truth. It was grimly funny, in a way. I muttered something appropriate in a response.
“That reminds me,” said Mr. Fenwick. “I know Angus was keen for you to get involved with the board. Had you thought about that at all? I know it’s early days, but–”
“The board?” I said, interrupting him.
“Yes, my dear,” he said. “The board of directors at Katherine College. Surely Angus mentioned it to you?”
“The board of directors?” I said, knowing how stupid I sounded but unable to stop myself.
“He was very keen to have you involved.”
I was silent for a moment, struggling for words. “Mr. – Mr. Fenwick – sorry, but I’m a bit thrown – Angus wanted me to be on the board at Katherine?”
“Yes, my dear,” he said, unfazed. “I know he meant to talk to you about it and I just assumed he’d done so. From your tone, it seems not. I’m sure I didn’t mean to upset you–”
“Oh - oh, you haven’t,” I stuttered, not wanting to upset him. “I was just – it just threw me a little, I had no idea. Angus didn’t mention it to me. Perhaps he was going to before he – before he–” I couldn’t bring myself to say died.
“Well, perhaps it’s something to think about?” said Mr. Fenwick. “Now that you know it’s what your father wanted?”
“Yes.”
“I would talk it over with Matthew, if I were you, Maudie,” he suggested. “I know that some of the directors are keen to meet with you when you’re ready.”
“Right,” I said, helplessly. “Yes, I – I will.”
“Jolly good, my dear.”
After he’d rung off, I sat for a moment on the sofa, staring across the room. I felt winded. Why had Angus wanted me to take over his role on the board? I put my hand up to my face, biting my nails. It just seemed such an unlikely thing for him to have done – to endow me with all that responsibility. For a moment, I couldn’t remember what we ever had talked about, when we were together. The weather? My health?
And now this. Was this Angus’s way of saying he – he forgave me? That he thought I was someone whose judgement could be relied on? Was he saying that he believed in me, finally, after everything? Or was it just his way of keeping me within his grasp?
*
“To us,” said Matt, clinking his champagne glass against mine.
“To us,” I said and sipped my drink. The bubbles tickled my nostrils. I felt just fine; happily tipsy but still coherent, buoyed by my successful day.
“What a good idea this was,” Matt was saying, “I’m amazed you got a table, though.”
“Angus had an account here,” I said.
Matt rolled his eyes. “Of course he did. Not that I’m complaining.”
The waiter came to refill our glasses with the last of the champagne. I waited for him to leave, took a deep breath and relayed to Matt the conversation I’d had with Mr. Fenwick, earlier.
“The board of directors?” said Matt.
I had to laugh. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“Well–” said Matt, doubtfully. “Well, I’m not sure what to say.”
“That was pretty much my response at the time.”
He put his glass back on the table.
“I’m sure – I mean, Angus wouldn’t have wanted you to do it if he thought you weren’t up to it,” he said.
“Up to it?” I said.
“Well, yes,” said Matt. “Come on, you know what I mean.”
“I know I’m not very clever–” I began.
“That’s not what I meant. You’re not an intellectual or anything, but that’s not what I meant at all.”
I looked down at my plate. “You mean, I might not be up to it – well, mentally.”
“Yes,” said Matt. He looked awkward. “Come on, darling, you know it doesn’t matter to me. You can’t help your past. But, well, that’s not to say you should be put under any more pressure. I’m not sure you could handle the responsibility of a role like that. I mean, it’s an executive position. You’d have all sorts of things to worry about.”
Inside my head I agreed with him, but the words still stung. Perversely, I wanted to disagree. I opened my mouth and shut it again.
“You don’t have to decide now, do you?” said Matt. “I mean, that’s the sort of decision you have to sleep on, surely? You don’t want to rush into anything.”
I nodded in agreement. He gave me a grin and squeezed my knee under the table.
“Let’s have some more champagne,” he said.
The waiter brought another bottle and poured us both full glasses. I watched the thin golden stream of champagne flow and froth in the glass. The waiter set the bottle back in the ice bucket and melted away.