Читать книгу The Beaufort Sisters - Jon Cleary, Jon Cleary - Страница 23

Though they never came to open warfare and they were always polite to each other, the gap between Tim and Lucas widened. Nina only slowly became aware of it, because Tim never mentioned it. She also slowly became aware of a change in him, a retreat into himself. It was not so much a shutting-out of her as that he seemed to become absent-minded about her. He was just as passionate in bed; but then it is difficult to be absent-minded about sex unless one is a professional. But the light-hearted courting of her that had been such a custom of his was now only an occasional whim. She wondered if this was how it was with all marriages, if husbands and wives, though still in love, stopped being lovers. On a couple of occasions when he went off on business trips he neglected to phone her at night. She even, to her shame, began to look for signs that he was having an affair with another woman, but there was none. Her one stab of jealousy towards Margaret had already been forgotten, put out of her mind by the fact that Margaret’s time now seemed taken up with Frank Minett.

‘Is he getting serious?’ she asked one day when she had volunteered to pick up Margaret at the university. ‘Prue tells me he’s always hanging around the house.’

‘Prue notices too much. Yes, he’s serious. But I’m not. The trouble is, Daddy thinks he’s just great. He wants Frank to leave the university and go into the bank.’

‘I thought Frank’s subject was politics, not economics.’

‘Frank’s subject is anything that’s going to get him to the top.’

‘You sound as if you don’t like him.’

‘Oh, I like him all right. But I’d like to do my own choosing, not have Daddy do it for me – which is virtually what he’s doing. You were lucky. I mean, choosing Tim without any interference from Daddy.’

‘Oh, he tried to interfere. He’ll never forgive Tim for being independent.’ She paused. ‘Have you noticed any change in him lately? Tim, I mean.’

Intent on driving, she did not notice Margaret’s careful glance at her. ‘No. Why?’

Nina took her eyes off the road for a moment. ‘You sound as if I shouldn’t have asked you that question.’

‘Maybe that’s how I do feel. He’s your husband – we shouldn’t be talking about him.’

‘We’ve been talking about Frank.’ She knew she had made a mistake. If Margaret herself had been married it might have been different, but Margaret had no experience to draw upon, had, as far as she knew, never been in love, not really in love. ‘No, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s just that – well, Daddy’s turned his back on him. Tim’s not going to get anywhere in the oil company.’

‘How do you know? Has he told you?’

Nina turned the car in through the gates of the estate, nodded to the security guard as he saluted them. ‘No. But I recognize the signs. It’s going to be the stockyards all over again. I’m beginning to think we should go away again.’

‘Where would you run to this time?’

Nina jerked the car to a halt, skidding it in the gravel. ‘That sounds so – so brutal!’

‘It’s true, isn’t it? If you take Tim away from here again – ’

‘For your information, I didn’t take him away last time. It was a mutual idea – ’

‘You still went, that’s the point, and it didn’t work out. You’re never going to win your fight with Daddy by trying to beat him from a distance.’

‘You’re talking about transferring to Vassar next semester. Is that how you’re going to win your fight over Frank?’

‘My case is different. I’m not married to Frank and not likely to be. I just want to get away from here for a year or two. I’ll come back eventually because I don’t think I’d want to live anywhere else. But Daddy’s not going to run my life the way he’s tried to run yours and Tim’s. Thanks for picking me up.’

She got out of the car and ran up the steps and into the big house, not looking back. Nor did Nina look after her: instead she looked across the lawns to where Tim, George Biff and Michael were playing with a tennis ball. Tim had been spending a great deal of time with Michael and George; as a mother she was delighted but as a wife she sometimes felt she was in the way. She looked at the man’s world there on the green lawns and suddenly wished for another child, a daughter. She drove on down to the stables, garaged the car and walked back up the winding path. The air held the promise of a hot dry summer to come and she wondered where she, Tim and Michael could go to avoid it. Perhaps to Minnesota or even Maine. A long way from her father.

‘Two and a half years old and he has the reflexes of Fred Perry,’ said Tim, showing his chauvinism when it came to sport.

‘And Sugar Ray Robinson, too,’ said George, who wouldn’t have known Fred Perry from Suzanne Lenglen but knew his boxers. ‘He gets beat at tennis, he can knock out the referee.’

Michael was a sturdy child, big for his age and seemingly without fear. He tumbled about the lawn, chasing after the ball when it was thrown to him, falling over and coming up gurgling with laughter. It was obvious that his father had now become his particular favourite, even over George. He saw Nina, threw the tennis ball at her, then rushed at her and almost bowled her off her feet.

‘Terrific tackler, too,’ said Tim. ‘We’ll put him down for Cambridge next year. Eton or Harrow first, then Cambridge.’

‘He’s going to be educated in England?’ She meant to say it lightly but it came out tart. Which was her real feeling.

‘I thought we’d discussed it.’ He managed to get the proper light note; he tossed the ball high into the air and caught it to his son’s great delight. ‘English education is still the best, despite the socialists.’

Michael saw his aunts, Sally and Prue, come out of the rear of the big house. He screamed at them, then galloped off towards them. Tim nodded at George. ‘Keep an eye on him, George. Don’t let the girls spoil him.’

‘No chance. He’s like me, a man’s man.’

As she and Tim walked towards their own house, Nina said, ‘I don’t think we’ve said a word about Michael’s education.’

‘No, we haven’t. That was why I was surprised when your father told me everything was arranged.’

‘Nothing is arranged! Did you argue with him?’

‘I no longer argue with your father. In another nine or ten years, when Michael is ready to go to boarding school, your father may no longer be with us. He’s almighty, but I don’t think he’s immortal.’

She changed the subject abruptly. Criticism was not one of her pleasures, especially of him. ‘Why home so early?’

‘I’ve decided I’m working too hard.’

‘Are you getting lazy?’ She smiled, straining to be light.

He bounced the tennis ball on the close-cut lawn as they walked. ‘Yes, I think I am. Or put it another way – I ask myself is there any point in working? Daddy, I’ve learned, is invincible. He is never going to allow me to be sacked from the oil company – he would never let that happen, for your sake. But I’m never going to get very far up the ladder, either. The truth is, I am not a businessman at heart. The thought of selling millions or billions of gallons of oil doesn’t thrill me in the least. And the word has got through to Daddy that the marketing division finds me less than enthusiastic.’

‘What’s got into you? You sound, I don’t know, shiftless. You were never like that before.’

‘I think I was, only you never saw it. Neither did I. Darling heart, don’t be offended by this. I’ve decided I like being a rich girl’s husband, but I’m not going to work at it. Steve Hamill had a word to describe me – a bludger. If one can swallow one’s conscience, and I’ve been chewing mine for some time, there’s no pain at all in being a bludger. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s the way it is going to be, I’m afraid. I enjoy luxury. Just as you do,’ he added unmaliciously.

‘I was born to it,’ she said, as if that were some sort of argument. But he was unimpressed and she went on, ‘What are you going to do, then?’

‘I’ll do what all the other bludgers – ’

‘Don’t use that word.’

He looked at her quizzically, bounced the ball a few times. She felt awkward, somehow naked; this was a crisis in their marriage and she was unprepared for it. From the maples at the rear of the park there came the plaintive note of a mourning dove; but across the lawns the laughter of Michael, Sally and Prue was a counterpoint. Somewhere a lawn-mower whirred and out on the parkway traffic growled, hummed and sighed. In the midst of an ordinary day, surrounded by the security that she treasured, she felt her life falling apart. She stared at him for some help, but he was blind to or ignored her silent plea.

‘I shan’t make myself conspicuous. I’ll fill in my time so that, if nothing else, I’ll look busy. But most of all I’ll concentrate on being a father. Just to make sure Michael doesn’t grow up in my image.’

‘Whose image do you want for him?’

‘Not your father’s.’ He smiled, but still managed to sound good-humoured.

She felt bewildered, first by Margaret’s outburst, now by this casual declaration by Tim that he was throwing in the towel. True, she had orginally wanted him to become part of the family, though at the time she had not really appreciated how much that surrendering of his independence would mean to him. But in the three years they had been married she had come to see his point, to share his determination to be his own man and not her father’s. He was not becoming her father’s man now. What was worse, he was settling for being her man, letting her money keep him. Her disappointment in him sickened her, yet she knew that she was the one who had planted the seed of corruption.