Читать книгу Absolute Truths - Susan Howatch - Страница 34

As the door shuddered on its hinges I said quickly into the telephone: ‘Sorry, got to go – see you tomorrow.’ Meanwhile Michael had swept to my desk and was standing in front of me with his fists clenched and his arms held rigidly at his sides as if he were barely able to restrain himself from aiming a punch at my jaw.

This was clearly a situation which demanded all my pastoral skills, but I had long since discovered that during confrontations with Michael my professional experience was of no use to me; Michael knew at once when he was being treated as a pastoral ‘case’ and became more unpleasant than ever. On the other hand all my attempts to treat him affectionately as a son fell on stony ground. It was as if Michael was never satisfied until he had needled me into losing my temper, and the more I slaved at the task of keeping calm the more he slaved at the task of provoking me.

I repressed the urge to bolt from the room and shout in despair for Lyle.

‘Have you quite finished?’ said Michael.

‘I’m sorry, it’s been chaotic here tonight –’

‘I bring my fiancée; down here to announce our engagement and you can’t even find the time to drink a glass of champagne with us!’

‘I really am very sorry –’

‘I don’t want you being sorry! I just want you to do something halfway decent such as saying: “Congratulations!” If it had been Charley who had arrived here with his fiancée, you’d have been beside yourself with excitement!’

‘Not if the fiancée were Dinkie,’ I said before I could stop myself, and as Michael showed signs of extreme rage I said very rapidly: ‘Now calm down and be sensible – you must realise that this kind of aggressive behaviour does neither of us any good. What happened to your New Year’s resolution to reform?’

‘You’ve just wiped it out by continuing to disapprove of everything I do! There’s no pleasing you, is there? I live in sin with Dinkie and you storm and rage until Mum shuts you up, but when I try to do the moral thing and marry, you sulk and skulk in corners!’

‘If I’m lukewarm about your news it’s only because I don’t think she can make you happy.’

‘If you married a pregnant woman, why shouldn’t I do the same?’

‘Are you trying to tell me –’

‘Yes. She’s pregnant.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘God, what a bloody thing to say!’

‘I’m merely trying to uncover the truth!’

‘The truth is that I’m in the process of saving Dinkie just as you saved Mum! Dinkie’s had an awful life, she’s vulnerable, she’s lonely, she needs a lot of love and security – and by living with her and looking after her, I’ve actually done her good. So if you think I’m just an immoral bastard screwing her for kicks –’

‘Does she take drugs?’

‘Of course not!’ But the denial was too fervent to be plausible, and when he saw I was unconvinced he added quickly: ‘Not hard drugs. Just pot occasionally. But everyone does that nowadays.’

‘Everyone most certainly does not! And I won’t tolerate any drug-taking under this roof!’

‘You don’t tolerate anything under this roof!’

‘I don’t tolerate self-destructive behaviour, and you wouldn’t respect me if I did!’

‘I’d respect you if you could admit the truth – which is that by living with Dinkie I’ve actually done her good!’

‘If you really wanted to do that pathetic young woman good,’ I said, ‘you’d love her without exploiting her. Obviously you need to justify your immorality by seeing yourself as a hero, but Dinkie’s not marrying you because you’re heroic – she’s marrying you because you’re the first man who’s ever been fool enough to propose!’

Lyle walked into the room just as Michael began to hurl unprintable abuse at me.