“He was sometimes difficult. Well, not on the surface. He was very charming, really. It was just … Well, he became involved with some odd people. They did strange things.”
“What strange things?”
“I believe they lived rather wildly. He was sent down from the university. It may have been that he got into the habit there, Stephen had difficulty in hushing it up. Then he went abroad. I just think you ought to know. But perhaps you shouldn’t. That is how it has been going on in my mind. I’ve been turning it over and over, asking myself whether I should tell you or not. But I think it is better to be prepared.”
“Yes,” I said, ‘it is better to be prepared. Do you mean that he experimented in taking drugs? “
She looked at me in surprise. She did not reply for a moment but I knew that was what she did mean.
She avoided my eyes.
“People who do, can act very strangely when they are under the influence of them. Of course it was all long ago.
Perhaps it is over now. There was that man. I always thought he was to blame in some way. He was here once or twice. Stephen thought the world of him. He was a doctor . an authority on drugs. He had done all sorts of odd things . going native and all that. He has written about it . so frankly. I always felt a little afraid of him.
I suppose it in was because of what I had read. I wondered if it was through him that Aubrey had begun to experiment. Stephen always insisted that the doctor’s interest in drugs was to be able to use them for the good of mankind and that it was small-minded to regard other civilizations as backward because they differed from our own. In some ways they could be more advanced. Stephen and I almost quarrelled about the man.
“Damien sounds like Demon,” I said. And I thought of him as the Demon Doctor. Stephen said I was ridiculously prejudiced. Oh dear, perhaps I should not have spoken. Something just made me. I thought you ought to know. I - er think you should be watchful of Aubrey . and if ever that Dr. Damien should come here . be on your guard. “
She was looking at me fearfully and I said: “You did right to tell me.
I will be watchful. I hope I never have to see this man. Stephen gave me his book to read. It is mysterious and er sensual. and really rather disturbing. It has qualities like those I found in Sir Richard Burton’s books. They both fascinate and repel. “
“Stephen admired both men so much. I read only one. I had no desire to read more. Stephen used to say that when he read them it was like taking a trip into those far-off countries. The writing was so vivid.”
“It’s true,” I said.
“But I believe with you that the writers are dangerous men, even if remarkable. I believe they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted.”
“I always thought that it was because of this man that Aubrey began to experiment. He may have wanted to see what effect drugs would have on a man like Aubrey. I don’t know. I’m only guessing. I don’t suppose Aubrey would do such a thing now …”
She looked at me anxiously. I understood perfectly what she was trying to tell me. I was beginning to fit together a picture of what very likely happened on that never-to be-forgotten night.
I almost told Amelia of it, but I could not bring myself to talk of it even to her. Of one thing I was sure: I would never endure that degradation again.
I thanked her for what she had told me, assuring her that she had been right to do so.
We did not say much more after that. We took a fond farewell and promised ourselves that we should meet again soon.
I suppose most unsatisfactory marriages break up gradually. The disintegration of mine certainly began on the night in Venice. True, I had made excuses for Aubrey, but I had always known that those impulses must have been in him somewhere, otherwise they would not have come out in any circumstances. I sensed that he was equally discontent with the marriage. I had failed him just as he had failed me. I was ready to believe that in these situations the blame cannot be all on one side.
I can say that when I married him it was with the intention of being a good wife. Perhaps he also first intended to be a good husband; but as his character was being revealed to me, I was realizing that I had made just about the biggest mistake a woman can make.
And yet . out of it had come Julian. And how could I regret anything that had brought me my child.
For the first two months after Julian’s birth I was too absorbed in him to think about much else.
Aubrey did say: “Aren’t you getting rather absurd, darling? After all, old Nanny Benson is there. Must you always be dashing off to the nursery?”
“Nanny Benson is rather old.”
“She has looked after children all her life. She’s more experienced than you are. You’re so nervous about that child, you’ll be upsetting him if you are not careful.”
There might be some truth in what he said; but I could not help it. I sensed the criticism in Aubrey’s words and manner. I was so overwhelmed by motherhood that I was not bothering to be a good wife.
Through Julian I formed a relationship with Mrs. Pollack, the housekeeper. Before, she had seemed to me a very formal woman, deeply conscious of her position in the household, humourless and something of a martinet. But since the coming of Julian she had changed. She looked completely different when she saw the baby; her face would be forced into a smile, which appeared to be most reluctant and was all the more genuine for that.
“I have to tell you. Madam,” she said as though admitting to something sinful, “I do like to see little babies.”
When I walked with him in the gardens, she would contrive to be there.
When she thought he smiled at her, she was filled with delight. When he grabbed her finger, she marvelled at his intelligence; and Mrs. Pollack’s adoration of my baby brought us closer together.
I sometimes had a cup of tea with her in her sitting-room, and took Julian with me. I felt a certain pleasure in having a friend in the house and such a stalwart, honest woman. She knew a little about babies too. She had had three of her own.
“All married and gone away now. Madam. But that’s how it is.” She shook her head slowly.
“You remember them as little ones when they depended on you … and then they’ve gone to live lives of their own. Oh, mine are good enough to me. I could go and live with my Annie, but I don’t think that’s right for the young somehow. I wish they could stay little babies.”
I was so pleased to find that Mrs. Pollack was quite human after all. I believed that she would have been a better nurse than Nanny Benson.
I asked her once why she had not found a post looking after children rather than keeping a household of servants in order.
She pondered that awhile and then she said that she thought madness lay that way.
“I should get too fond of them … and then they’re too old to need you. It’s like having a family all over again. I must say though. Madam, it’s good to have a little one in the house.”
If I were going out, I used to tell Mrs. Pollack. There was an unspoken agreement between us that I wanted her to keep an eye on Julian, for I did not want to leave him entirely in the care of Nanny Benson who might nod off at a moment when she should be looking after the child.
Mrs. Pollack was the soul of tact. She understood and took pride in the trust I placed in her. She was well repaid by Julian’s obvious appreciation of her, when he grew old enough to express it.
One night, when Julian was only a few months old, I was worried about him as he had developed a cold. It was only a slight one but the smallest thing wrong with him sent me into a panic.
I awoke in the night. It must have been soon after three and I felt I must make sure that he was all right. I went into the nursery. He was restless, flushed and breathing heavily.