Читать книгу An Almost Perfect Moon - Jamie Holland - Страница 12

The weekend after Thomas was born, Harry had agreed to drive up to Gloucestershire with Julia to meet her father for the first time. He’d already met her mother, Bobby, a trim soft-spoken lady of fifty-two. She’d been divorced from Julia’s father for ten years now, and on doing so had moved back to town, taking up residence in what used to be their town house on the King’s Road. Harry had crossed that hurdle without too much fuss as Bobby was friendly, welcoming and clearly so much a part of Julia’s everyday life. But her father, Charles, was quite a different proposition. He lived on a huge estate south of Stow-on-the-Wold, had married for a second time to a woman only eight years older than Julia, and now had another son, Dominic, to add to his other two by Bobby. Julia was clearly slightly scared of him, and did little to assuage Harry’s growing apprehension.

‘Do you mind terribly?’ said Julia, as they headed out of town.

‘No, no, I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ Harry lied. ‘Anyway, I’m intrigued.’ They had taken his Citroën. Julia insisted they should, saying it would give him something to talk about, as her father loved cars.

‘He’s got lots of them,’ she told him.

‘Really?’ said Harry, interested. ‘What kinds?’

‘Oh, I’m not sure. Some quite old ones I think – including a James Bond type – but none as smart as this.’

Harry laughed. ‘Of course not.’

‘What? They’re not. I much prefer this to anything he’s got.’

‘OK, if you say so.’ With the sun breaking through, the clouds above were mirrored on the long black bonnet; the mounted headlights, bulbous and twinkling, pointed the way as they surged down the M40. Harry thought his car had rarely looked shinier.

‘I mean, this car really is so stylish,’ said Julia, turning to smile at Harry. ‘So much more fun than mine.’

Did she really mean that? he wondered. He’d been in her car, a fast, luxurious BMW, with a CD player and an impressive array of additional gadgetry. His, by contrast, was slow, stark, and had no mod cons, least of all a stereo. Sometimes he couldn’t tell whether she said things because she thought it was what he wanted to hear, rather than because it was what she really felt.

‘I hope he isn’t too gruff with you,’ Julia said as they crossed the border into Gloucestershire, ‘only he can seem a bit grumpy and stern at times. But he’s harmless really.’

‘Honestly, Julia, stop worrying. I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

‘And you know Dominic will be there, don’t you?’

‘Absolutely. He’s six and a brat, but I mustn’t let him make me play with him.’

‘Exactly,’ said Julia, biting her bottom lip.

‘And Stella’s a bit thick and after his cash, but otherwise quite harmless,’ He turned to her and gave her a reassuring grin.

‘Sorry, you must think I’m ridiculous. It’s just, well, I adore Daddy obviously, but things haven’t been the same since the divorce. It’s weird going back home to find him with a completely different family. You know?’

‘I can imagine. Please don’t worry, though. I won’t disgrace myself, I promise.’ It was strange seeing Julia like this. Normally she was so confident, controlled and charming. But now, seated beside him, she was so edgy she’d even started biting her beautifully manicured nails.

‘And anyway, I can’t wait for you to see the house. I know you’ll love it,’ she added, rubbing his thigh.

Harry had to admit it to himself. The house was one of the main reasons he had agreed to come. Julia had told him about it in great detail, how the main part was built in the 1760s onto the remains of a ruined abbey. The owner had made the abbey habitable, so that the house was in part solidly medieval, and part Georgian refinement.

‘I absolutely adore it,’ Julia had told him. ‘One minute it’s all Gothic arches and the next you’re looking out of delicate sash windows.’ What a place to grow up, Harry had suggested. Of course it was, but now that her father had remarried and started another family, she no longer felt it was her home. ‘But I love that place more than anywhere in the world,’ she’d sighed wistfully.

‘I’ll show you the folly when we get there,’ said Julia as they turned off towards Oxford.

‘There’s a folly?’ said Harry incredulously. ‘You never said anything about a folly.’

‘Didn’t I? I’m sure I must have done.’

‘Believe me, I wouldn’t have forgotten.’

‘I suppose it’s more of an obelisk really. Quite pointless, but rather fun. I told you the owner back then was mad.’

‘How brilliant. I can’t wait,’ Harry grinned.

‘Daddy’ll know who the designer was. Quite famous in his day, I think.’

‘You know, I just feel certain I’m going to love this place.’

‘I think it is rather up your street. You’ll have to incorporate bits of it into one of your murals.’

Julia had always shown a great interest in his work, which he appreciated. ‘You’re creative, I just push figures about,’ She’d once said. Harry had pointed out that at least she made lots of money doing that. ‘Doesn’t make it very stimulating though,’ she’d countered. He remembered playing a game once in the pub with some friends, including Ben and Flin. You had to pick someone else and say what they did during a normal working day. Everyone got it hilariously wrong. They simply didn’t have a clue. Recounting amusing incidents at the office, or talking about plans to become the biggest entrepreneur since Richard Branson, or boasting how their company car was due to be upgraded, were regular features of the banter Harry enjoyed with his friends; but no one actually discussed what they did to earn the BMW upgrade, because, in truth, no one else cared. Harry didn’t really know how Julia spent her day either.

As they turned into the drive, Harry saw her visibly tensing up. He’d seen the effect a broken family had had on Ben, but until now had never known how wounded Julia had been by her parents’ divorce. It made him realize just how lucky he was to have a family he adored, and parents he could still greatly depend on. Now that both had retired, they led even more active lives, always keen to try something new, whether it be travel, food, drink or anything for that matter. His parents had given him a wonderful upbringing and even now, in his thirtieth year and long gone from the nest, he still felt as close to them as he always had. He knew his was an exceptional case, but how terrible it must be not to have that rock, that support. He didn’t know how he’d feel if his father decided to start another family in the old house where he’d been brought up. It was unthinkable.

As Julia had promised, the house was amazing: one end ordered, graceful and refined, the other a mismatch of passageways, thick walls and sudden open spaces. And the view was spectacular. To one side of the house the lawn led away towards a ha-ha, and then beyond lay a snaking valley, banked on either side by a sylvan curtain of lush green trees. Overlooking the whole scene, imperious in its splendour, stood the obelisk, testament to an eighteenth-century landowner’s vivid imagination and excessive wealth.

Much to Harry’s relief, Charles wasn’t around.

‘So sorry, Julia, but he’s huffing about sorting out a problem with the wild boar,’ explained Stella with a roll of her eyes. Slim, tall, but rather plain, Harry thought she seemed friendly enough. Dominic, effectively an only child and clearly used to getting his own way, marched up to Harry and said, ‘Who are you?’ in an indignant tone of voice.

‘He’s Harry, a friend of Julia’s darling.’

‘Do you want to marry her?’ he asked.

‘Dominic! Really, that’s not polite,’ scolded Stella.

Harry, feeling himself pinking, looked at Julia and Stella and, laughing feebly, said, ‘Well now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Ha, ha.’ He knew he sounded faintly avuncular, as though he should be handing out a shiny sixpence and then cuffing Dominic gently around the ear.

‘Well, do you want to see my train set?’ Dominic asked next. ‘I bet it’s bigger than any you’ve ever had.’

‘And there you’d be right,’ said Harry, ‘as I’ve never had a train set.’

‘Honestly, Dominic, you really shouldn’t say things like that. It’s rude to brag,’ Stella told him, dropping to her knees and looking him square in the face.

Dominic shrugged and turned back to Harry. ‘Do you want to see it though?’ he persisted.

‘Not now, OK?’ said Julia testily. ‘Later maybe. Poor Harry’s only just got here.’

Dominic grinned inanely, twisted round on his toes and then ran out of the hall.

‘I’m going to show Harry his room and take him for a tour if that’s OK,’ Julia told Stella.

‘Sure, be my guest. We’re having supper at eight but I think your father will be back much before then.’

‘I am your guest,’ muttered Julia once Stella had headed back towards the kitchen.

Harry was put in his own room in the abbey part, dominated by a huge four-poster. Unlatching the leaded window, he peered out and above him saw a weather-beaten gargoyle, its mouth a conduit for the guttering that led towards it.

‘You like?’ asked Julia.

‘Very,’ grinned Harry, ‘it’s amazing.’

Her tour led all round the house and then out to the garden. It was a warm day, although there was a cooling breeze. Large white cumuli spattered the deep blue sky. The lawns had just been cut and grass clippings scented the air. Wood pigeons cooed from the trees, their low, soothing song floating out across the gardens. As they paused at a bench by the rose beds, Harry closed his eyes and felt the sun on his lids, his head warm on Julia’s lap.

‘Ah, this is the life,’ he sighed. ‘What a place.’

‘It’s certainly peaceful at the moment,’ agreed Julia. She was thoughtful a moment, then said, ‘I hope I can live here one day, and not that brat Dominic.’

‘What about your brothers?’ asked Harry. Mark, four years younger than Julia, had dropped out and was travelling somewhere in South America, while Toby, still only eighteen, was in his last year at school.

‘I don’t think Mark would want it. One of the reasons he’s buggered off is to escape our family. And Toby is in line to inherit my uncle’s place in Yorkshire. But he might drop out too, I suppose.’

‘I thought you had high hopes for him?’ Harry queried.

‘No, you’re right. I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s not as sensitive as Mark. More like Daddy.’

They walked on, over the ha-ha and then skirted round the valley, until eventually they reached the obelisk. Despite the moss and lichen at its square base, the column looked strong and solid, proudly extending some seventy feet into the air.

‘What a wonderful spot,’ said Harry, taking in the view. ‘I bet you can see this for miles and miles around.’

‘You can. It’s rather fun, isn’t it?’

From their vantage point, they looked towards the house, its full scale and layout clearly mapped out. They spied a Range Rover pull into the drive and then stop in front of the main entrance.

‘That’s Daddy back,’ said Julia dismissively. Harry regretted Charles’s return. Somehow it spoiled everything. They’d been quite content, just the two of them, ambling round the garden and fields surrounding the house. It had been so effortless, but Harry feared being with Charles would be an enormous test of good behaviour and concentration. If Julia was scared of him – and she hadn’t got to where she was by being intimidated – her father was bound to be a handful.

‘Harry?’ said Julia at length.

‘Hmm?’

‘Do you ever wonder whether you’ll get married?’

‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ lied Harry.

‘I hope I do,’ continued Julia, ‘and have children … but I don’t think I could bear getting divorced. I’d have to marry someone who was really going to look after me, you know?’

Harry smiled weakly. Just where was this heading? There was another pause, then Julia said, ‘I mean, do you think we’ve got a future together? Have we got what it takes?’

Harry didn’t want this conversation. He desperately wanted to be falling madly in love with Julia, and hoped it might still happen, but he didn’t feel that way yet. Julia and he had been having fun though, and although he had recognized the significance of meeting her father at the old family home, he liked the way things were progressing slowly. He didn’t want to be rushed or pushed into a corner in any way.

‘Harry?’ persisted Julia.

‘I don’t know, Julia,’ he told her, ‘I hope so. Don’t tempt fate yet though, hey?’

She smiled at him, revealing a vulnerability he’d never noticed before. The sun lit up one side of her face and blonde wisps gently blew across her cheek. Without her normal armament of eye and lip make-up, she looked softer, more naturally beautiful.

‘I think I’ve fallen in love with you,’ she told him. Then she looked away, as though embarrassed by her confession.

Harry’s mind raced. What should he say back? What she wanted to hear, or what he really felt? Sitting by her at that moment, with her looking as lovely as she did; he felt he should be in love with her too. But could he say it and really mean it?

Suddenly their relationship, previously so easy and relaxed, had taken on a whole new meaning. Julia, without consulting Harry, was moving them on a stage, and he felt panicked.

‘I love you too,’ he said.

She smiled, then laughed bashfully, and Harry could see her eyes glistening. Shit, shit, shit! he thought. It was all wrong – he was being forced into a situation he didn’t want.

‘I’ve never said that to anyone before,’ she told him, kissing him and then standing up.

‘Oh, I used to all the time when I was younger,’ said Harry, as cheerfully as he could, ‘but I never meant it.’

‘But you do now?’ said Julia playfully.

‘Of course,’ Harry replied as they headed back to the house, conscious he’d lied twice in as many minutes.

Harry finally met Charles at the pre-dinner drinks. He was quite short, with a widening girth, white wispy hair and a garrulous, ruddy complexion.

‘Nice to see you,’ he grunted, cracking into the champagne. ‘Sorry not to be here when you arrived. Problem with the bloody boar. Let me tell you now, don’t ever have a stock of boar. More bloody effort than they’re worth. Dangerous beasts too – can easily break a leg if they run at you. Even worse if you get gored by the bastards. Still, make good sausages and no one else is doing it for miles around. Our sausages are eaten all over the world in fact. Places you probably never even knew existed.’

He continued in this vein until they sat down to dinner, telling Harry everything about the farm, how successful it was while everyone else was struggling (‘Small scale’s a waste of time. No wonder the smaller farmers are having problems – they need to think bigger’). He barely paused for breath and yet somehow he’d still managed to finish off several glasses of Krug.

Then Dominic ran into the room, dressed in his pyjamas.

‘Dominic, you should be in bed,’ growled Charles.

‘He just wants to say goodnight to everyone, don’t you, darling?’ chipped in Stella.

‘Yes,’ said Dominic, standing firmly in front of his mother, ‘and have a drink like everyone else.’

‘Here, pass him this, would you?’ said Charles, handing Harry a glass of water.

Harry passed it to Dominic, felt him grip the glass and then let go. Immediately, it crashed to the floor, splinters of glass flying everywhere.

‘Dominic! For God’s sake,’ muttered Charles.

‘Sorry, I thought he’d taken it,’ said Harry helplessly as Dominic burst into tears.

‘Don’t worry, it’s not your fault,’ Julia told him reassuringly.

‘You’re over-tired darling, that’s all,’ Stella told her wailing son.

‘He didn’t give it to me, it was his fault,’ bawled Dominic, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

‘Come on, bed,’ said Stella decisively, grabbing his hand and leading him from the room.

‘The sooner he’s packed off to prep school, the better,’ muttered Charles, bending down awkwardly and picking up the larger pieces of broken glass. Harry squatted too, and hunted for scattered shards, aware of Charles’ suspicious glances. Julia, too, looked embarrassed, but Stella soon returned and did her best to diffuse the situation.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said to Harry, ‘he was just tired. You know how children can get.’

‘That your Citroën outside?’ Charles eventually asked him as they began to eat.

‘Yes it is,’ Harry replied, elbows in and gingerly cutting his gravadlax.

‘Bloody good everyday cars in their time. They were very modern when they first came out. First mass-produced monocoque car. That’s why they’re called traction avant – it’s Frog for front-wheel drive.’

Harry, who’d been obsessed by these cars since childhood and knew intricate details about paint codes and production numbers, didn’t need to be told this.

‘Well, mine’s one of the later models – he began, but was cut off.

‘A Light Fifteen, that’s what they call your type.’ Now he was being incorrect too – couldn’t this fat git tell the difference between a French and a British model?

‘Actually, it’s an onze légère, Daddy,’ said Julia, adding, ‘it’s a French one.’

‘Yes, I know that, Julia,’ snapped Charles testily, ‘but in English, they’re called Light Fifteen.’

‘Does it really matter what it’s called?’ Stella smiled. ‘It’s still a jolly nice old car.’

Harry winced slightly and tried a question of his own. ‘I hear you’ve got a few cars yourself.’

‘Yes. Half-decent motors too. A couple of XKs, a Phantom II and an old DB5.’

‘I thought you had a Jaguar,’ put in Julia.

‘I’ve got two, Julia, those are the XKs.’ He rolled his eyes knowingly at Harry.

‘And which one’s the James Bond car?’ she persisted.

‘The Aston Martin DB5,’ Charles told her wearily. Clearly, this was men’s stuff.

‘Very nice,’ said Harry appreciatively, conscious Charles hadn’t offered to show them to him.

There was slight lull between courses, and then Julia said, ‘Harry’s an artist, Daddy.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Charles sceptically. ‘Not that modern crap, I hope. If you ask me, it’s a bloody joke.’

‘Well, I’m not a modernist actually. Murals is what I do most, but I’m a big fan of neo-classicism and the rococo.’

Charles grunted a begrudging approval.

‘But this place is magnificent.’ Harry tried a change of tack. ‘Do tell me more about it.’ He thought he might be very rude any moment, and hoped this would change the rapidly developing impasse. It did: Charles launched into a detailed history of the place, his family and more anecdotes about the first owner, barely pausing for breath until fetching the port and lighting himself an enormous cigar.

‘Well done, Harry,’ said Julia, once Charles had announced he was ready for ‘Bedfordshire’. Stella, having cleared away most of the table things with the help of Harry and Julia, had disappeared long before.

‘She hardly said a word all night,’ whispered Harry.

‘I think she’s quite shy, but it’s not helped by Daddy playing the dominant male.’

Harry stretched and yawned, suddenly tired. His single room now appeared an even more attractive proposition; he didn’t feel up to satisfying Julia’s voracious sexual appetite into the early hours. He just wanted the night off so he could have a really good long night’s sleep. Charles had more than lived up to his expectations; he didn’t know how anyone could put up with such a cantankerous, misogynistic, bullying old bore. No wonder Julia had been so apprehensive. Still, what a house, and a fantastic place to be if only her father could be avoided. Having seen Julia to her room, he stumbled back down the weaving corridors towards his own at the abbey end. Had he not been so exhausted, he might have found the dark, aged walls quite spooky, but as it was, the moment his head hit the pillow, he fell fast asleep, his concerns about Julia temporarily put on hold.

He awoke as Julia slipped into bed beside him.

‘Julia, what are you doing here?’ he mumbled, still full of sleep.

‘I suddenly felt bad leaving you all on your own down here. Anyway, Daddy’s fast asleep now – I could hear him snoring.’

‘Why should he care anyway?’ said Harry, sitting up in bed.

‘We’re Catholic. I’m lapsed obviously, but he’s against sex before marriage. Or so he says. Although I can’t believe he hadn’t slept with Stella before they married.’

Harry always slept with the curtains at least half open as he liked waking in summer to see what the day was like outside. This night, an almost full moon shone through the lead-latticed windows, giving the whole room a luminous glow. Harry was just wondering whether he had the strength to perform when Julia peeled off her silk pyjamas and started kissing him hungrily. Her smooth body, with just a hint of goose-bumps, looked creamy pale in the moonlight, emphasizing every curve of her body. Thrusting her sex towards Harry’s face, she began to moan.

‘Lick me, Harry, suck my fanny!’ she exclaimed loudly.

‘Shh darling,’ said Harry in hushed tones, ‘I really don’t want to be shot by your father.’

‘Oh don’t worry about him – these walls are so thick he won’t be able to hear a thing,’ she breathed heavily into his ear. ‘Oh yes, please, Harry,’ she continued to moan.

Then she was straddling him, pumping up and down on his over-used penis, the four-poster rocking and banging against the wall with each rhythmic thrust.

‘Oh yes, yes, hurt me, harder, ow, ow, OWWW!’

The door swung back and crashed into the wall.

‘What the bloody hell – Julia?’

‘Daddy! What are you doing here?’ screeched Julia.

‘Thought you were being bloody raped!’ Charles stood in the doorway, his pyjamas and dressing gown loosely covering his bulky frame. And he was carrying a shotgun. Julia vainly clutched the sheet to her breasts, while Harry turned his head in abject horror, burying it in the pillow with a loud groan. Charles, lingering by the door, was clearly shocked.

‘Get back to bed now – and as for you, young man, we have rules in this house. Julia, you should know better. You both disgust me.’ He spat out the words, wild, angry eyes honed in on his naked daughter. ‘I want the pair of you out of here first thing.’

‘Daddy, please!’ wailed Julia, embarrassment, humiliation and anger evident in her beseeching.

‘You’re in no position to argue,’ barked Charles.

‘I can’t believe you’re doing this,’ hissed Julia, her rage winning through. ‘You fuck up all our lives and even now, when I’m nearly thirty, you’re still trying to ruin everything for me.’ She began crying, deep convulsions interrupting her words, and then, ineffectively clutching her pyjamas, she sprang from the bed and ran out of the room, her sobs echoing down the corridor.

Charles paused a moment, then calmly said, ‘I don’t ever want to see you here again.’

Harry, frozen with horror, heard the door slam, then started laughing manically. Julia and her fucking pillow talk was going to be the ruin of her. Christ! How embarrassing had that just been?

But at least with Julia banished he could now go back to sleep. Slowly, he sank back under the covers and closed his eyes. But after the shock of Charles’s interruption had worn off, he lay awake thinking he would never be able to marry Julia while Charles was alive, or at least not without eloping. Even then, Charles would probably track them down and shoot him with his shotgun. That was what people like Charles did to filthy curs like him.

He didn’t want this. He wanted everything to be uncomplicated, and to have a normal, happy, utterly contented relationship, with his ideal partner, he adoring her, and she adoring him; no hang-ups, no trauma. Just – perfect. He’d played his hand badly – dishonourably, even. Ben and Lucie had got it right: happily married and welcoming their beautiful baby into the world. So had his parents. Turning over, he tried to find a cool patch of pillow. He was so far behind them, such a long way from finding his dream.