♦
Daisy came down late hoping at least that she would be able to sit and eat alone, but when she was pouring herself a bowl of cereal Dad walked into the kitchen wearing his pyjamas and yawning. Morning, you. She was angry that he was intruding, that he knew, or didn’t know, angry that he was going to say something stupid. He took a mug off the shelf, added a teabag and set it down next to hers. Mum told me, about you and Melissa.
It’s not about me and Melissa.
I know, I know. He folded his arms and leant against the sink and looked at the floor, trying to take up as little space as possible. Like a dog cowering, she thought. I just wanted to say that it’s fine.
Fine? As if she’d dyed her hair or got a Saturday job.
What I meant was, it doesn’t change the way I think about you.
She put her hands on the worksurface and breathed deeply. One, two. The room was unsteady, because it wasn’t fine, because it changed the way she thought about everything. So why was everyone else so fucking calm? Why was everyone else so fucking pleasant? At least Melissa reacted. Daisy wanted it to spin through their lives like a typhoon, ripping stuff apart.
He stood up. I’ll make my tea later. He touched her shoulder lightly but the skin under his fingers felt like it was going to burn and blister.
♦
They had decided to go to Hay again, like they were circling a black hole and no longer had the fuel to reach escape velocity. Richard was having trouble walking without the polished wooden cane they’d found in the umbrella stand and they knew what they were getting in Hay, whereas Abergavenny might turn out to be a disappointment, goat’s hair periwigs and Rudolf Hess notwithstanding, and only Benjy was voting for the falconry centre. Plus, like Dominic said, this wasn’t a Michelin Guide holiday, Palazzo Vecchio and the Boboli Gardens, this was the kind of holiday where you appreciated the things you really should have been appreciating at home, walks, conversation, communal meals, the passing of time itself. Also Louisa had seen that little jewellery shop as they were leaving last time and when Angela reminded Benjy about The Shop of Crap the falconry centre was dropped like a hot potato.
Richard was adamant that he could still drive, the Mercedes being automatic, and it seemed politic not to undermine his manhood any further. Louisa said she’d take a taxi and anyone else was free to join her, so that she could pay without it seeming like charity. Richard asked Angela to come with him because he wanted to continue the conversation of last night. He didn’t say as much but Dominic, Daisy and Melissa all sensed the seriousness of something unsaid and opted for the taxi, whereas Benjy sensed nothing at all and said he’d go with them because the Mercedes was a really cool car and sometimes taxis smelt funny.
♦
Is this OK? Handel Orchestral Works, Trevor Pinnock. Generic compilation stuff.
It’s fine, said Angela.
The tyres slipped on the gravelly mud as he negotiated a tight little hairpin. His ankle hurt, but it was a good pain, like a bruise after a game of rugby. I apologise for last night.
It doesn’t matter. Angela couldn’t remember immediately what they had talked about last night. Then it came back, the imaginary father she never actually had.
But it does matter, said Richard. I upset you.
Really, said Angela. It wasn’t your fault. She wanted to be left alone.
I’m not saying it was anyone’s fault. What I’m saying is…
The way the road twisted and dipped and rose, thought Angela. It was like being in a film of your own life.
What I’m saying is that I’m worried about you.
Why? Not even a question, really, just knocking the ball back over the net.
Louisa said that today was…that today would have been her birthday. He glanced in the rear-view mirror to check that Benjy was immersed in a game on his little portable computer thing, then lowered his voice. The baby you miscarried.
Angela nodded. Strange that it didn’t upset her, Richard not knowing her name. She felt numb, a heavy curtain between her and the world. I’ll be fine.
He pulled into a gateway to let a muddy quad bike past, bale of hay tied to the back, young farmer at the wheel, wearing what looked like a comedy Christmas jumper, red, green and white, reindeer and zigzags. Maybe he should back off. But he’d been backing off for thirty years and he wanted to be a proper brother. But how did you help someone if they refused to ask for help? He reached over and touched her forearm. You know you can talk to me if you want. I’ll shut up and just listen this time.
I know.
He wondered if he, too, had been damaged, by their father dying, by their mother drinking. He thought of himself as having put it all behind him, but his decision to marry someone who kept her distance, his failure to have children, his lack of interest in his own interior landscape…A sheep in the road. He slowed as it bounced and sprinted ahead. Such stupid animals, you’d think they’d learn to stand on the verge until a car had passed. It squirted through a hole in the fence. Wrong field, probably. Angela closed her eyes and leant back against the headrest, dozing or faking sleep. He readjusted the rear-view mirror. Benjy was still playing his game. Was he lonely or just self-absorbed? Both, maybe. Geometrical diagrams and the House of Hanover. 1972 in silver foil. Everyone in their little worlds.
♦
They joined the main road and seven texts pinged onto Melissa’s phone. ring me we’re so in the shit cal x…I’m really really really sorry. megan x…ring me megan has dumped us in it cally x… She couldn’t face reading the others.
Being the man, Dominic had been voted into the front seat to converse with the taxi driver who was telling him a story about how his brother lost his farm outside Llandovery during the foot and mouth epidemic. Green numbers on the meter flicking over, the little map on the satnav twisting, though this was probably the kind of place where it led you up cattle tracks and into ravines. He was having trouble concentrating on what the taxi driver was saying. Stupidly he’d left his mobile in his coat pocket overnight. He was relieved at first to find no message, then he checked the inbox and found one sitting there unflagged. Had someone read it? He wished he were sharing a car with Angela so that he could see her face and hear her voice and stop this churning anxiety. Amy’s threat of last night. I’m not letting you do this to me. But what was his offence? They weren’t going to spend the rest of their lives together, he was saving them both from a terrible mistake. It had always been an experiment. If she’d wanted more she should have said so. He had never lied to her. But where was the tribunal one could take these matters to? LOVE and HATE tattooed on the man’s knuckles. Was that Hell’s Angels or Skinheads? Dominic couldn’t quite remember. The man seemed harmless now, pudgy, balding.