Learning to Dance, page 9
‘But she thinks that neither of you recognize her!’
‘Ah, so you do know. Nattie wouldn’t have a clue, of course. He showed me a tiny snap he has of her at ten years old. He thinks she would never have changed. But she is far more beautiful now than she was then.’ He took the empty plate from her and stacked everything on the tray. ‘Come on. Irena will be up with morning tea at any moment. Let us appear to be very conventional. It makes her happy.’
She wrapped the duvet around her shoulders and pushed her feet into slippers as she tried to thank him. He would have none of it. The lift was whining a warning as they passed its doors and he hurried past her and began down the stairs. Then he paused on the first landing and looked up.
‘I have lied to you, Mrs Jack. I did go through your things. Your sketches – work on them when you are home, try different media. And for now … start drawing Jack Freeman. Please. You might keep him alive, and understand what is happening.’ He went on down very fast; she watched, terrified he would slip and fall. Wanting to ask more questions.
The lift-whine stopped and she just got inside her room before the discreet tap heralded Irena. Her head was buzzing but not aching any more. She reopened her door.
‘I was just off to the bathroom.’ She took the tray; Irena’s eyes were on the duvet and she was not her recent obsequious self.
Judith smiled. ‘I brought the wrong nightclothes, didn’t I? Did you find it chilly in the night?’ Strange how the word ‘chilly’ was soft, whereas ‘cold’ was not.
‘I tend to sleep very deeply unless Robert wakes us up. He often needs help with his pink elephants, as you probably know.’
Judith was angry on Hausmann’s behalf – how could this woman not see through to his good intentions? She did her best, rolling her eyes and saying gushingly, ‘This is the trouble with geniuses, isn’t it? Jack used to get terrible nightmares. I had to sit with him and calm him down often.’
‘Did you? Really? Yet his work was so humorous – never ever nasty, was it?’
Judith improvised gladly. ‘He loved people, of course. Even the ones he disapproved of – politics, power mad – you understand; he still drew them with kindness.’
Irena melted. ‘Oh my dear, how can you be so brave? You are trying to be like him, aren’t you? Kind to people like Mrs Jessup and Bart’s brother. That sweet smile you have sometimes – it is heartbreaking!’ She drew in a breath and let it go in a small sob. ‘I read an article about him once. How close he was to his wife and children. I can see why.’
Judith took the tray and the duvet fell to the floor. She exaggerated a small shiver into a violent tremor. ‘I think I’ll go back to bed with this, Mrs Mann. Thank you so much. I feel … I feel … I feel you understand.’
The door was closing. Irena said, ‘Oh I do, I do. But I have to warn you about my brother-in-law. Sometimes he can be a little mad. Will you let me know if—’
‘Of course I will. Naturally. And thank you. Thank you again.’ The door clicked shut. Judith put the tray down and hurled the duvet on to the bed. She knew it would not help Robert if she fought his corner – quite the opposite – but she still felt she had betrayed him.
Breakfast was almost jolly that morning. It was Sunday, and the Olsens and the Markhams had been to early Communion at St Beuno’s, the smallest church in the west. Martin Morris had driven them, but was glad when there proved to be no room for him inside the church. It was raining – a sea-fret Martin called it – and the priest had offered a cycling cape as the rain blew into the porch. He had assured Martin that he would be able to hear the service through the door, and the cape was windproof. Martin had opted to sit in the minibus and promised he would find a service on the radio. He had not been successful, but he had opened the window and heard the small congregation singing ‘We plough the fields and scatter’.
‘Took me back,’ he said.
Sybil asked Nathaniel whether he had been tempted to join the others.
‘Not really. I’m Chapel.’
Sven called across, ‘We also. But this was inter – inter – what was it, Margaret?’
‘Inter-denominational. It’s a tourist thing, really. They hold a service occasionally, and it just happened that today it was an early one. Which meant we would be back for breakfast and then for our day in Ilfracombe. Who knows? We might be lucky and be able to go across to Lundy. I have never been, have you?’
Judith shook her head, but Sybil and Nathaniel both spoke at once and then laughed. Sybil said, ‘So you, too, did a school trip there?’
‘I did indeed! And you?’
‘Only once.’ She glanced at Judith. ‘Very easy to imagine all the pirates – and other worse criminals – who spent time there.’
Margaret said eagerly, ‘Come with us, why don’t you? Even if we can’t get a boat across to Lundy, Ilfracombe is a delightful and rather Victorian seaside town. There is a tunnel through the rocks leading to the beach—’
Jennifer said eagerly, ‘Yes, why don’t you all go? Stanley and I found yesterday rather tiring, and we thought we would rest today.’
This was obviously news to Sven and Margaret. Margaret said, ‘But last night – we had such a good time in the lounge with the slides and Robert being so – so different.’
Jennifer said, ‘Oh dear, have I put my foot in it again? Of course we will come – it was just a thought – if Mr Jones and Sybil and Judith were interested—’
Sven said smoothly, ‘We understand of course—’
Margaret snapped, ‘Shut up, Sven!’ She turned accusingly to her friend. ‘There is plenty of room in the bus for all of us – you know that!’
Unexpectedly, Nathaniel leaned over, holding out a propitiating hand. ‘I’m sorry, it seems as if we are spoiling your outing, but Robert and I have planned to take the girls walking today.’ He looked wryly at Stanley and Jennifer. ‘It seems you are committed. Perhaps you can rest this evening before dinner?’
His efforts at diplomacy were so obvious they were almost pathetic, and no one felt able to spoil them. Sybil opened her eyes wide at Judith. It was Stanley who actually spoke again.
‘I think we can just about cope with that, can’t we, darling?’
Jennifer nodded and held out a hand towards Margaret, and after a moment’s hesitation Margaret took it and shook it gently. Sven produced a guidebook and began to tell Jennifer about Ilfracombe as if he had invented it.
Nathaniel said, ‘I am going to wrap my toast and take it with me. Robert has no interest in food, and whatever this project is, I am willing to bet we will be nowhere near any of the local hostelries. I advise you to do the same.’
Sybil said, ‘What project? When was this planned?’
‘He said he had told Judith.’
Judith frowned; she did remember something vague about a project. She said, ‘There were so many of us in the sitting room all talking at once. Did he mention it then? My head was aching – I didn’t hear him.’
‘We are to meet him at the Dove Inn. Eleven o’clock. I asked about walking boots but he said trainers would do. I’m going to ask Mrs Mann for some cheese. Excuse me, ladies.’
He left them and Sybil said, ‘Do you mind, Judith? I don’t want to go if you don’t. It could be awkward.’
Judith did not know whether she minded or not, but she did not want to spend the day with the two married couples. And neither did she want Sybil to get too close to Hausmann. She couldn’t tell Sybil that Hausmann knew she was Esmée without explaining how she, Judith, hadn’t betrayed Sybil’s confidence – and there wasn’t time to do that here and now. Also, after yesterday’s talks she realized that her schoolgirl dream of bringing Hausmann and Sybil together after over forty years was out of the question, even without the strong suspicion she now had that Hausmann was gay.
She said, ‘Yes. Yes, I can see it could be difficult.’ Heaven knew how she could keep the two of them apart, but at least she could make an effort.
Sybil looked suddenly animated. ‘This could be fun,’ she whispered. ‘When we were kids Robert used to organize what he called “expeditions”. We explored all the back alleys in the city one summer. And we swam at Barry Island on Guy Fawkes Night. Perhaps he has renamed his expeditions and they have become projects!’ She laughed. Even tendrils of her hair were curling around her face. Robert was right: she was beautiful.
Judith laughed too. ‘Well then … bring on the projects!’
They began to wrap their breakfast rolls in napkins; Judith pocketed some apples, Sybil scurried into the sitting room and returned with one of the many boxes of dark mint chocolates that Bart obviously kept for evenings. They felt and acted like naughty schoolgirls, and Sven hurried over with his roll and some hard-boiled eggs. ‘Enjoy!’ he said, in imitation of Bart. And then, as Nathaniel returned he shook his hand and said, ‘Many thanks. You are most kind.’
Nathaniel blushed slightly. He waited until Sven was out of earshot and then said to Judith, ‘I learned to be extra tactful when I was a kid because of Robert!’
It took half an hour to walk to the Dove Inn, and when they arrived Hausmann was at the bar, one hand protectively around a glass of cider, the other tracing a route on an open map.
He frowned at Nathaniel in greeting.
‘You’re late.’
‘Five minutes, old man! We’re not going to fall out over five minutes!’
‘Not easy to fall out with you, Nat.’ Robert’s face split into a grin. Judith was amazed; she had Robert Hausmann classified as a man who did not suffer fools gladly. He turned to Sybil. ‘Are you up to a hike of perhaps five miles – maybe more?’
‘Yes,’ she said immediately. ‘And so is Judith. We climbed the face of the Eiger yesterday.’
He grinned again; he was obviously used to this reaction. Nathaniel glanced at Judith, slightly surprised, but she nodded confirmation. She wanted to go along with this threesome; she imagined telling Jack about it afterwards: the complicated dynamics of their relationships, and the fact that Robert Hausmann knew that Sybil had come looking for her past, but that she had no inkling that he knew this. And Nathaniel Jones, open as a book, was reacquainting himself with his childhood friend but had no idea that Sybil was Esmée Gould. Judith smiled slightly; it was like a childhood game of hide-and-seek and Jack would appreciate that.
She stopped her thoughts there with a jolt. Jack … Jack Freeman … had flown the nest and gone. There was still the enormous relief at being certain Jack was alive and in Australia, but after that … what? Would he come home to the terrifyingly anonymous other woman? Or was she out there? Had he met her on his last trip to see the boys? She shivered at the thought. Of course, that was it. Jack had had no time to conduct any kind of clandestine affair at home, but when he had gone over to Australia he had had all the time in the world.
Hausmann was talking again, expounding a theory.
‘You see, Nat, Esmée always wanted to rewrite the bloody book – don’t you remember?’
‘What book was that?’
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake – where are we at the moment – what was Esmée’s favourite book of all time? Lorna Doone, of course. Her father had a friend with a boat, and they used to come over from Cardiff and explore this area, and Esmée used to come back and say that everyone had got it wrong and she had her own version. Don’t you remember any of this?’
Nat was frowning, concentrating. ‘I do remember her saying that the water slide was somewhere else – she’d found it with her dad – old Goalposts – but then he had an imagination longer than the Blackwall Tunnel—’
‘Yes, but his stories and games were always based on something firm. That version of hopscotch, for instance: it was our own hopping and skipping, but his Hungarian chant gave it a special meaning. Anyway, when Bart and Irena leased the castle I was roped in for some hard labour, and when I got time off I explored. Nothing else to do. I had my own project, of course. Mapped all the pubs in the area; look, I’ve marked each one with a cross. Right over to the west side of the moor – dropping down to the cider orchards – there’s a little place right there.’ He stabbed at the map. ‘Where they brew their own cider, and you can sit in the front room and sample it. Don’t think they’ve got a licence, but no one’s going to let the cat out of the bag unless they’re blind drunk, which is, of course, a very real risk.’
‘Bit like smuggling,’ Nathaniel put in.
‘Suppose so. Anyway, somewhere on one of my expeditions, I came across a river. Usual Exmoor sort of river, wide and shallow and crystal clear. I called it the Gould. After Gould the Post.’ He did not look at Sybil. ‘In memory of him, if you like.’
‘I like,’ said Nathaniel. ‘He was a lovely man.’
Judith felt a pang; it was as if Hausmann was creating a small world. A world that had gone. She looked along the bar past the map and saw that Sybil was staring at Nathaniel Jones, as if willing him into that world.
‘Good. Because this project is called “the Gould Project”, and you are a very important part of it.’
Nathaniel looked surprised. ‘Me?’ He snorted a laugh. ‘I was always odd man out, Robert. And you know it.’
‘You were the third man, yes. But you were never on the outside. You were always in the middle.’
‘That’s rubbish.’ Nathaniel laughed again, without regret. ‘I was the hanger-on. Once Esmée left – you and me – we drifted apart. You went to art college, then on to London. And I did business studies at Cardiff Tech and opened a print workshop.’
‘You came to my first exhibition. You sent Christmas cards.’
‘You never returned them.’
‘No point. I was the outsider.’ Hausmann grinned, delighted to have come full circle in their verbal volley. ‘Now, drink up, everybody. The mysterious Esmée Gould always said that she and her dad had discovered the original water slide. I am almost certain that the two of them were talking about my river. The Gould river. The river of gold. Call it what you will. I’ve plotted it on this map, and we are off to find it this very day, this very hour.’ He had folded the map as he spoke, and now waved it above his head like a flag. ‘And we are going to climb it, maybe to its source. The top of Exmoor! The watershed for all the moor rivers, some draining past us now and into the sea of Lundy, some the other side, where they fill the valley with cider!’
Judith started to laugh, remembering the glowering silent man of two nights ago as he had struggled with the heavy front door and been confronted by a crazy woman in the thinnest of nightdresses, who could have been the result of a steady night’s drinking at the Dove Inn.
They looked at her as she tried to control the unstoppable giggles which were threatening to escalate into hysteria. Then Hausmann pocketed the map and put a bracing arm around her shoulders.
‘Come on, old girl! It’s only a game. What’s that old saying—?’
‘Play the game!’ she spluttered.
‘That’s it. Just like you did when you were a kid – yes?’
‘Yes, I know.’ Suddenly it was as if the whole world tilted slightly; she thought she was going to fall flat on her face. She pulled away from Hausmann and took a huge breath. ‘But since then my dad has died, and Mum and I – we had to manage – and then my sons went away, and Mum was ill, and she died, and I had a friend, Naomi, and she was killed in a car accident … and then two months ago, Jack—’ Hausmann grabbed her before she fell.
He said quietly, ‘Play the game, Judith. Just play the game.’
Sybil was on her other side with a handful of tissues. She took them, mopped vigorously and pulled herself upright and away from Hausmann.
Nathaniel was in front of her, looking horrified. ‘I had no idea – no idea, Judith – so sorry—’
She shook her head. ‘Why would you? I’m all right. Honestly.’
Nathaniel flapped his hands. ‘Let’s go somewhere we can get a nice meal – sit down and talk things through—’
Sybil took the wodge of tissues and dabbed at Judith’s chin. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if—’
Hausmann interrupted brusquely. ‘She needs her mind taken up. We should go on as planned.’
Nathaniel snapped at him. ‘Perhaps Judith would like to have a say here?’
Hausmann stared at him, shocked. Judith said quickly, ‘It just came up and sort of hit me … out of the blue. I’m OK. Honestly. I’m glad we’re doing this. And I’d like to be part of the expedition. The fourth man. Woman. Person, I should say.’ She tried to produce a viable smile.
Hausmann said, ‘I vote you in.’
And Sybil suddenly hugged her arm. ‘Me, too.’
Hausmann took over again. It was as if there had been no outburst from Judith. He picked up the map, pointed it at the door and said, ‘Here’s to the river of gold. And all who sail in her!’
He held the door wide and they went through it, Sybil, then Judith, then Nathaniel. Hausmann followed and muttered something, and Nathaniel said aggressively, ‘What was that?’
‘I simply said we were a motley crew.’
‘Oh. Right. Yes. I suppose we are.’ Nathaniel caught up with the two women and took Judith’s arm protectively.
Hausmann closed the door behind him and muttered something else. It was ‘Bloody fool!’ But Nathaniel did not hear him.
Eight
When Judith crawled into bed that night, she was so tired she hardly knew whether the project had been successful or not. She could not decide what had been its goal. Even if it had been multi-goaled she doubted whether it had achieved anything at all. Except that they had all actually got back alive. Yes, that was something to achieve in the circumstances. There had been a couple of times on their journey to nowhere – which was how Nathaniel had scathingly described it – when she had wondered whether they should call in an air ambulance, or whatever was sent out to rescue people who were lost on Exmoor in the fog.
It was the fog that had made the map and its red arrows directing them to the river of gold so completely useless. It made no mention of any landmarks, though when they came upon the lichen-covered milestone standing in one of the angles of cross tracks in the heather, Hausmann swore he had seen it before and it meant they took the right side of the cross as a fingerpost. So far as Judith’s directional instincts could tell, the track wound in enormous S shapes through heather that turned into furze; and two miles of track probably covered one mile as the crows flew.
