‘Maybe the horror of nuclear war is self-cancelling,’ said Rupert. ‘No sane world leader is going to press the button.’
‘Until an insane one comes along.’
‘Or a man of faith.’
‘You and your religious wars,’ said Mountbatten.
‘Well, nuclear war is essentially suicidal. Who would accept mass suicide as a price worth paying? Only someone who believes in a better life after death. They’re the ones to watch. The ones who really believe they know the mind of God.’
*
Back in his office, Rupert put in a call to Father Flannery in Donegal. He wanted to know when Mary was coming back.
‘She left this morning,’ said the priest’s voice, thin and high and far away.
‘How is she, Father?’
‘Oh, she’s grand. You should have seen how she delivered her last message from the Lord.’
Rupert could hear the priest’s tinny chuckles coming down the line.
‘Came into Buckle Bay on a tractor, she did! Over the sea!’
‘Good heavens!’
‘Told the faithful their faith had saved the world. There was to be no great wind after all.’
‘When was this, Father?’
‘Last night. Saturday night. That girl really does have the Almighty whispering in her ear. Today we heard it on the news. It’s all over. And that makes Mary Brennan a prophet all over again. If it really is all over.’
‘It’s all over,’ said Rupert. ‘It really is.’
‘Then we shall have our chapel at Buckle Bay soon. You’ll see.’
‘I’m sure you will. Father, do you know what time her flight gets in?’
‘I don’t know anything about flights. She told me she’d be safe in her lodgings by this evening.’
*
The great army of officials who had gathered in Whitehall to manage the crisis were now all departing for what was left of the weekend. Rupert too went home, to rest and to think.
Mary Brennan was coming back. He could see her this very evening. Suddenly it seemed to him that this was a critical moment. It was for this that the world had not ended.
‘If there’s anything you ever want,’ she had said, ‘you have only to ask.’
But what if I want more than she has to give? After all, she had said to the nuns that she wanted to live a life of her own. Now she was free at last. Why would she choose to tie herself to a middle-aged man with an ungainly appearance and no prospects?
Oh, but it was hard. How did other people manage these things? I need a back channel, he thought, to sound out the response before I expose myself too far. The risk is so immense.
He remembered then the talipot palm in the Botanical Gardens that didn’t bloom for forty years. He was forty-four. Overdue for blooming.
Am I to say to her, ‘I love you, Mary’? Is that how it is? And if she doesn’t want my love, what is she to say? It would distress her very much to think she was hurting him. He would say to her, ‘I don’t expect you to love me out of gratitude.’
No, he’d say no such thing. He’d smile and say it was just a passing idea, and it had seemed worth trying out. Then he would say goodnight, as he’d said goodnight to Joyce all those years ago, with a peck on the cheek. He’d come back here to Tachbrook Street, and sit here, in this armchair, and …
After that there was a blank.
*
He forced himself to wait until after six. The clocks had gone back in the night, and darkness came early. He phoned Hugo’s house at last. The number was engaged.
He walked down the road, round the back of Victoria station, and into Elizabeth Street. Here there was a French bistro he liked, which he knew would be open. He went in and explained, with a little embarrassment, that he might want a table for two a little later in the evening, but he might not. There was no problem. The restaurant was not busy on Sunday evenings.
Back in his lodgings, he called Hugo’s number again. The line was still engaged. It must be out of order.
He was sure Mary would be back in Brook Green by now. If he left it much later, she would be sitting down to supper with Hugo and Harriet. The thought of postponing the fateful encounter for another twenty-four hours galvanised him into action. He would go round there now. He would say he couldn’t get through on the phone, he wanted to celebrate her success in averting the end of the world. They could flag down a taxi on Hammersmith Road, be in the restaurant by eight.
He made the journey west by tube. As he walked up the road from the tube he asked himself for the first time what Hugo and Harriet would think of him turning up like this, unannounced. They’d guess, of course. Perhaps they’d already guessed. Then if it all came to nothing they’d pity him. Poor old Rupert, never had any luck with the girls. But it was too late to protect himself now.
The lights were on in the house. He rang the doorbell. No one answered.
He rang again. After several minutes he heard shuffling footsteps within, and the door opened. It was Hugo, looking wild-eyed.
‘Oh, hello, Rupert. Come in.’
His hair was on end, as if he’d been trying to pull it out.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Bit of a crisis here.’
‘I came to welcome Mary home,’ said Rupert.
Emily appeared. Her face was wet with tears.
‘She’s up with Harriet,’ said Hugo. ‘Off you go, darling.’
Emily disappeared again.
‘I seem to have chosen a bad moment,’ said Rupert. ‘Shall I make myself scarce?’
‘No, no. Good to have you here. Maybe you can talk some sense into me.’
Mary appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘Harriet wants to know who’s come.’ She saw Rupert and as always her face lit up with a smile. ‘Oh, hello, Rupert.’
‘Hello, Mary.’
He could barely see her in the shadowed landing, but just hearing her voice made him happy.
‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘I’ll be down soon.’
She returned to Harriet.
‘Come and have a drink, old man,’ said Hugo.
He stuck his head into the schoolroom.
‘Get into your pyjamas, darling.’
‘I haven’t had any supper,’ said Emily from within.
‘We’ll all have some supper soon. Get into your pyjamas.’
He led Rupert into the drawing-room and poured them both a brandy.
‘Here. Knock this back. You’ll need it.’
They drank.
‘Trouble with Harriet?’ said Rupert.
‘You could say that,’ said Hugo. ‘It’s all about Pamela.’
‘I rather thought it might be.’
‘She’s gone. She left today. Harriet sent her packing. I’m afraid I made my regret a little too obvious. Now I don’t know what to do. I feel as if I’m going mad.’
‘Harriet taking it badly?’
‘Very badly. Hysterics, really. Mary’s the only one can calm her down. Thank God she came back. What am I supposed to do, Rupert? I feel as if I can hardly breathe.’
‘I suppose she’ll get over it in time.’
‘Yes, but what do I do?’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘I realised it as soon as she left. I’m in love with her, Rupert. I’m wild about her. I don’t think I can live without her. I expect that sounds like I’m off my trolley, but I mean precisely that. And what’s so stupid about it all is I’ve no reason to suppose she’d have me even if she could.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘Yes. So there you are. It’s a horrible mess. And there’s Emily to think of. I don’t know. What do people do?’
Mary came downstairs.
‘She wants to see you,’ she said to Hugo.
‘Right,’ said Hugo.
He left them. Mary came into the drawing room. From upstairs came the muffled sound of raised voices.
‘Is she in a bad way?’ said Rupert.
‘She’s hysterical.’
?
??You came back from the airport and walked into this?’
‘She was upstairs, screaming.’
‘I tried to phone.’
‘I think she’s taken the phone off the hook. She doesn’t want Hugo calling her.’
‘Pamela?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hugo says he’s in love with her.’
‘Yes.’
Their eyes met in a moment of silence.
‘Good of you to come, Rupert.’
‘I was going to welcome you back. Take you out to dinner.’
‘I can’t go out. Not while she’s like this.’
‘No, of course. I do see that.’
‘I thought I’d make some omelettes or something. You could stay and join us.’
‘Wouldn’t I be in the way?’ he said.
‘I think it might help. Hugo seems to be very confused.’
‘All right,’ he said.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Not quite what you had in mind.’
Emily came in, now in pyjamas, and took Mary’s hand in hers.
‘I don’t like the shouting,’ she said.
‘Of course you don’t, darling.’ Mary stroked the child’s head. ‘But all it is is shouting. It does a body good to have a shout from time to time.’
‘Mummy hates shouting. It gives her a headache.’
‘How about you help me make us all some supper, Emily?’ said Mary. ‘I bet you’re hungry.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Emily. ‘I might be.’
Mary turned to Rupert and found his eyes on her.
‘And Rupert can help too.’
They moved into the kitchen. Rupert gave himself the job of laying the table. Mary and Emily started cracking the eggs for the omelettes.
‘Will Harriet come down to eat?’ he said.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mary. ‘Shall we have cheese in the omelette? Emily, you can grate it.’
Rupert laid for four. He put out knives and forks, water glasses and wine glasses, salt and pepper. He even found some cloth napkins.
Then they heard the sound of a door flung open upstairs, and Harriet’s voice, shrill with pain.
‘Have you lost your mind? She’s a child!’
Then Hugo’s voice.
‘So why are you making such a scene about it?’
‘It’s just a game to her. Just because she thinks she’s in love with you!’
‘What did you say?’
‘She’s half your age, Hugo! Have you no shame?’
‘She said she was in love with me?’
‘Hugo!’ Harriet’s voice rose as if she was calling to him across a great distance. ‘Hugo! Come back!’
‘She said that?’
‘She’s a child!’
Then the sound of footsteps coming onto the landing.
‘Hugo! Come back!’
‘I’m going downstairs. I want my supper.’
The slam of a bedroom door. Hugo came downstairs, into the kitchen. He looked dazed.
‘I’m sorry about that.’
He took in the sight of the table, as laid by Rupert.
‘Looks like a restaurant in here.’
‘It’s to celebrate Mary’s success,’ said Rupert.
‘What?’
‘She saved the world.’
Hugo shook his head, bewildered.
‘I did no such thing,’ said Mary.
‘That’s the word in Kilnacarry,’ said Rupert.
‘Oh, Kilnacarry. What do they know? More than that, Emily. We want lots and lots of gooey cheese in the middle.’
‘Maybe you should go to her, Mary,’ said Hugo.
‘I’ll go after supper,’ said Mary. ‘You’ll be looking out a drop of wine for us, Hugo.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Rupert marvelled at the way Mary managed them all. Himself too. And all the time so calm, so lovely. Even when he wasn’t watching her he was intensely aware of her every movement. He could tell when she turned to look at him.
‘Rupert, you have to advise Hugo. You’ve got a sound head on your shoulders.’
‘We’ll talk later,’ said Hugo, glancing at Emily.
Mary made one giant omelette and cut it up to share between them. Emily pecked at hers, but ate very little.
‘Is that all you want, sweetheart?’ said Mary.
Emily nodded.
‘Then come along. We’ll say goodnight to Mummy, and I’ll tuck you up safe in bed.’
When they were gone, Hugo refilled their wine glasses. He drank his wine and said nothing. Powerful emotions were at work within him.
At last he fixed his gaze on Rupert and said, ‘She’s in love with me.’
‘Pamela?’
‘That’s what she told Harriet. My God, Rupert! Isn’t that something? That changes everything. She’s so much younger than me. And so beautiful. I hadn’t dared to hope. She loves me!’
He was transformed. The haggard look was gone.
‘When Harriet said that, I felt as if a bomb had gone off inside me. Can you believe it?’
‘Poor Harriet.’
‘You know what? I’m tired of all that poor Harriet stuff. I’ve had it, Rupert. Earlier, when she was screaming at me, I realised something I’ve never admitted to myself before. There are times when I hate her. I actually hate her.’
Mary returned.
‘I think Emily would like you to kiss her goodnight.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Hugo left. Now Rupert was alone in the room with Mary.
‘It seems like you’re the only one who knows what to do,’ he said.
‘I feel so sorry for them,’ said Mary. ‘For all of them.’
She was smiling at him, her face tired but so beautiful. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but didn’t dare.
‘How have you been yourself, Rupert?’
‘Well, the world didn’t end.’
‘There’s a mercy.’
‘And I’m happy you’re back.’
‘I couldn’t have stayed there a day longer. Do you want to hear a terrible thing? I got angry with God.’
‘Why were you angry?’
‘Oh, I was angry with him for stealing all those years from me. I haven’t had a youth, Rupert. And now it’s too late.’
‘It’s not too late.’
‘I’m twenty-nine years old! I’m not young any more. Not young enough to get drunk, and stay out late, and fool about with the boys.’ She laughed and blushed as she heard herself. ‘Not that I’m the sort boys fool about with.’
She was laughing, blushing.
‘Why wouldn’t they?’
‘Oh, I’m not fishing for compliments. I know I’m no pin-up. Mam says my face shines with the light of heaven. Who’d want to fool about with that?’
She was so unafraid with him that it made him afraid. Did she see him as the older man who presented no threat, the father, the uncle?
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m not exactly love’s young dream.’
As he spoke these words he had a sudden memory of sitting in the Chinese restaurant in Kandy, saying to Joyce, ‘No one’s going to pick me out in a beauty parade.’
Not again, he thought. Never again.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Mary. ‘You’ve a fine distinguished look about you.’
‘But I’m not like you, Mary. You’re beautiful.’
She blushed at that, visibly pleased. Her pleasure gave him the courage he needed.
‘Is it too late for me?’ he said.
Mary looked down, and then up to meet his eyes. He saw it then, how her face was shining with happiness. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Hugo rejoined them. Mary looked down again.
‘What am I supposed to tell Emily?’ Hugo said.
He sighed as he sat down at the table across from Rupert and took up his wine glass. Mary sat down too, by Rupert’s side.
‘She says to me, “Everything will be all right, won’t it,
Daddy?” What am I supposed to say?’
‘Maybe you all need some time,’ said Rupert.
They heard the pad of light steps coming down the stairs.
‘Emily! Back to bed!’
But it wasn’t Emily. It was Harriet.
She was fully dressed, her clothes crumpled; her face smiling, but ravaged by pain.
‘Hello, Rupert. Good of you to come and see us.’
Mary jumped up.
‘Shall I make you some supper? We’ve had an omelette.’
‘No, thank you, Mary. I’m not hungry.’
She fixed her eyes on Hugo, who didn’t look up.
‘I expect you’ve heard,’ she said. ‘We’ve had a little trouble. It’s all about nothing at all. Hugo’s been quite unkind to me. But I know he doesn’t really mean it.’
Hugo frowned, and drank his wine, and said nothing.
‘We love each other,’ said Harriet. ‘In the end, that’s all that matters.’
‘How can you say that?’ said Hugo quietly.
‘Because it’s true.’ She spoke in the tone of one who won’t brook contradiction, but her voice was shaking. ‘Please don’t start again. Not in front of others.’
‘They know,’ said Hugo.
‘Of course they don’t know,’ said Harriet.
‘What happens in a marriage is private.’ She looked across brightly at Rupert. ‘I’m sure Rupert agrees with me.’
‘I’ve been saying to Hugo,’ said Rupert, ‘that maybe you both need a little time.’
Harriet seemed not to hear him. Her bright smile returned to Hugo.
‘Hugo, darling,’ she said. ‘You’ve said some very unkind things to me this evening. And you’ve said them in a very loud voice. Emily heard. Mary heard. You did, didn’t you, Mary?’
‘Yes,’ said Mary.
‘I think,’ Harriet went on, still in that high tight trembling voice, ‘that you owe me an apology.’
Hugo frowned at the table.
‘I’m sorry I shouted at you, Harriet.’
‘Thank you. I’m going to go to bed now. I don’t want to make anything of it, but I am in fact in a great deal of pain.’
She left them. Hugo put his head in his hands and groaned.
‘It’s unbearable,’ he said.
‘There’s nothing to be done tonight,’ Rupert said.
‘I could get in the car and drive down to Sussex,’ said Hugo.
‘And arrive when they’re all asleep?’
‘I know. I know.’
‘What do you think he should do, Mary?’ said Rupert.