For Love or Money (18 page)

R
UTH
looked at her bank manager’s letter yet again, as though to convince herself of its reality. The point for no longer ignoring these communications had clearly been reached. She was informed that she now had insufficient money in shares to clear her overdraft. It would have to be the house next. She would have to sell beloved Trelawn where they had all once been so happy. Soon the so-familiar rooms would be bare, and alien feet would sound loudly on the uncarpeted boards. Out of their present context how could any of the pictures or ornaments have any
significance
? How much one took for granted. How easy it was to look around one without ever really seeing. Why, she had never noticed till now the delicate patterning on the metal plates just above and below the door-handles. Had she ever thought of the light-switches as being made of brass and as jutting out from the wall? But didn’t a place become home when one no longer saw small details but rather understood everything only in relation to the general picture?

She heard the drawing-room door opening and turned to see David coming into the room. He had grown so tall and handsome in the last couple of years. He at least would never desert her. He would have to know the truth. There was no time left for concealment now.

‘We’re going to have to sell Trelawn,’ she said softly. The idea seemed more possible now that she had spoken it.

‘Where will we go instead?’ The ‘we’ had come almost automatically, David noticed. It was so much easier to avoid mentioning inevitable ruptures. Hadn’t he been doing that ever since George’s departure two weeks ago? Of course he would stay with her. He had done the same in answering her
letters when he had been at school. Anything to avoid present trouble.

‘We’ll find a nice little flat in London. You’ll be able to bring home your new friends from Cambridge. There’ll be lots of parties in London too,’ she said smiling at him.

David knew how much she hated London. He saw the added blackmail only too well, but still he could not bring himself to say anything.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, darling?’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’ So much easier, thought David. After all when he had betrayed Steven he had entirely committed himself should George ever betray him.

His mother had evidently been thinking of Steven too. She said nostalgically:

‘I want so much to bury the past. After what has happened it’s only right that we should see Steven again. You know how I suffered, how much he has been on my mind. I want you to go and see him in London. You could go in a couple of days. I know you’ll do it, darling. Somehow I feel it will come better from you.’

‘Perhaps it would.’

‘Oh, darling …’ She got up, and came across the room towards him with open arms. Clasping him tightly, she whispered:

‘Darling, it’s only for you that I go on living.’

T
HE
brand in the cave man’s hand lit and the sky in the mouth of the cave darkened. Robin pressed the button again and night once more replaced day in a second.

It was another Saturday and Sarah was seeing her mother again. Three weeks ago it had been the Natural History Museum. This time the sciences were under scrutiny.

Steven watched Robin progressing from case to case,
pressing
the buttons as he went. ‘Lighting through the Ages’: the wall-brackets glowed and now it was the turn of a group of centurions to see the sudden coming of darkness.
Elizabethans
blinked as their candles flickered and died, the chandelier in the urban gentility of an eighteenth-century drawing-room lit the keys for a piano player before the light flooded from the tall windows again. The last case showed a pre-war drawing-room with a man and woman sitting in
arm-chairs
in front of an electric fire. How many children had gazed at that immutable domestic scene since the thirties? Steven shrugged his shoulders and followed Robin on to an exhibit with weights and pulleys.

‘Are you strong enough to lift this one?’ asked Robin tugging without success.

Steven pulled the rope and the weight shot up.

‘Will I be strong like you, Daddy?’

‘I expect so.’

‘Will I be strong as an elephant?’

‘I don’t know.’

 *

They looked into a life-size replica of a medieval
black-smith
’s 
shop. Robin saw two men bending over an anvil and heard the hiss of the molten metal. Steven saw three other children trying to push their way closer for a look. The dummies were badly made and looked stiff and clumsy.

Robin whispered to Steven, in case the dummies heard:

‘Are they real men, Daddy?’

‘They’d be very old if they were.’

‘They could be nowadays men dressed like that.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘They must get very tired.’

‘We must let the other children have a look.’

‘I want to see if they move.’

‘You can’t.’

‘I
want
to
.’

‘Do what you’re told.’

‘Just a few minutes, Daddy, ple—ase.’

‘No.’

Steven took Robin by the ear and pulled him aside. He heard a woman behind him say loudly:

‘He ought to be ashamed treating a child like that.’

Robin whimpered and then began crying.

‘I can’t take you anywhere without you screaming.’

‘You hurt me. I never want to go out with you again.’

Robin tried to slap away his father’s restraining hand. ‘Give them the blessing of children, my God.’ Steven started to tighten his grip on Robin’s arm. Robin pulled with all his strength. He managed to wrench his arm and left Steven holding his small grey coat. Steven saw him running towards the main exit. Why couldn’t he control him? He started running after him. A camel was slowly moving round a well in Ancient Egypt, an African laboured in the boiling sun to fill a large earthenware jar.

Robin had gained a considerable start. Steven cannoned into a man on the stairs and stopped to apologise. Robin had reached the top and ran on into the main hall.

 *

When Steven found him he was turning the handle of a
case containing a working model of an early steam engine. The wheels moved as he went on turning. Steven grabbed his wrist roughly. He was sweating after the chase. He had hurt his leg in the collision.

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked in a quiet restrained voice.

Robin did not answer but went on turning, turning. Steven watched the smooth and perfect motion of the
pistons
. He asked again. Still the little hand went on turning the handle.

‘Why?’ he hissed. Robin turned his back.

 *

In the bus Steven looked at Robin’s tear-stained face. The marks were still on his cheeks. And once I needed
dependants
; people who would always be there, Steven thought despairingly. Now the silently reproachful child
beside
him was part of his life. ‘To give and not to count the cost, to labour and not to seek for any reward save that of knowing that we do Thy will.’ One could lavish all the love one knew and there would still be at the end the inevitable clarion call of independence and final rejection. It couldn’t have been merely for this, there must be another answer, another chance.

Steven saw to his right the flags in front of the West
London
Air Terminal.

 *

Sarah was standing in front of the sink in their small kitchen. Her face was flushed.

‘How did he get those marks on his face?’

Steven leant against the door-frame. He said:

‘I hit him.’

She stared at him apparently unable to take in this
information
. Steven repeated it for her: ‘I hit him.’

‘Do you expect a little child to respect somebody who
behaves
like a savage?’

‘Do you expect a little child to turn his back on his father when he talks to him?’

‘That depends who the father is.’

‘It does, does it?’

‘Yes, it does. I thought you liked him to show some spirit.’

‘When was disobedience called spirit?’

‘Do you expect him to be perfect at his age? You want to look at yourself before you condemn him.’

‘If you mean that his disobedience stems from my being his father, I suggest you remember you’re with him rather more than I am.’

‘And he doesn’t turn his back on me.’

‘No, he knows he can spit in your face without a word of reproof.’

Sarah came towards him and said:

‘Can you get out of my way? I want to go into the
sitting-room
.’

‘No, you can stay and listen to me. I haven’t finished yet.’ He paused. Sarah folded her arms and looked at the floor. ‘I’m not going to live my life trying to shield my children from everything that may upset them, just to please you. Minny Mouse, Freda Frog, Herbert Hare, it makes me sick. The milksop mammy song with a happy jingle. It won’t harm his skin, it’ll make his jerseys softer than down. My life isn’t his or anybody else’s. It’s mine, mine.’

‘Can I come through now?’

Steven stepped aside.

‘You can go where the hell you like and I probably will too.’

‘Go on then, if I don’t have to hear you there.’ She looked back and said: ‘I suppose you were never young.’

When Steven came into the sitting-room, he saw Robin gently sobbing in his mother’s arms. She was stroking his head and murmuring to him. Steven looked for several minutes. A stranger in my own house. Sarah’s hand went on caressing. ‘Mother and Child, no. 79 in your catalogues, is a delicate and moving study.’ His face remained entirely
impassive.
At last he turned and went into the bedroom. He did not have many clothes, so it did not take long.

In the sitting-room, Sarah heard the doot shut quietly.

 *

It was four o’clock in the morning. Sarah looked at the kitchen clock again. She had listened so long at the window that she thought she had heard the clinking of money in the pockets of passers-by. It was true that he had been out for whole nights before, but he had never left like that without a word. At last she decided to go to bed. He might have got drunk and been picked up by the police. He might have hurt himself and been taken to the local hospital. She’d ask at the Police Station and the hospital when it was light.

 *

The hospital was a low modern structure with wide lawns and contemporary concrete benches beside the well-kept paths.

She walked into the entrance marked ‘Casualties’. At the desk she said:

‘I wonder if you had any drunks in with cuts or anything?’

A nurse led her along a corridor into a large ward. An old man with white hair was the only person there.

‘He was the only admission last night.’

‘Thank you.’

Sarah was too worried to be embarrassed.

At the Police Station the constable on duty said:

‘Would you like to give us a description of the missing person?’

 *

When she got home again Robin was still asleep. He woke as she came into the bedroom.

‘You didn’t hear anything while I was away?’

‘No, Mummy. Where’s Daddy?’

‘He’s gone away.’

‘Daddy’s a horrid man.’

‘Don’t you dare say things like that about your father.’

Robin buried his head in his pillow.

‘He’s a naughty man,’ mumbled Robin from the pillow.

Sarah had started to feel sick. She got up and went into the bathroom.

‘W
ILL
you take the next turning to the right, and then the second to the left, Mrs. Williams?’ said George as
Notting
Hill Gate came into sight. The dual-control pedals did little to make him feel more secure. They should provide a second steering-wheel as well. Nevertheless the job had come just at the right time. A position of some
responsibility
, too. The Driving School he worked for could boast never having had an accident.

‘Change down now‚’ he said.

‘I was going to‚’ said Mrs. Williams.

‘You took that one rather too fast.’

Mrs. Williams glowered. She was a large woman with several chins and an intricate network of small veins
showing
on her cheeks.

‘When you corner take your foot right off the clutch.’

‘I did.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said George humbly. A few unfavourable
reports
and he would be out of a job. ‘I think you might change up to top now.’ He smiled at her disarmingly. Old cow.

‘Try and drive a little further out from the curb.’

‘Do you want me to hit the on-coming traffic?’

‘Second on the right, third on the left, please.’

‘Second on the right is a one-way street.’

‘Take the one after that then.’

‘I should be grateful if you could say what you mean. You’re paid to teach and not to confuse.’

‘I’m sorry‚’ said an abject George.

‘You’re not‚’ said Mrs. Williams truculently.

‘Change down now …’

D
AVID
saw that the door of the lodging-house was not properly closed. He pushed it open and started to climb the uncarpeted stairs. He paused on the first landing and looked round at the names on the doors. Not finding his brother’s name, he climbed up to the next flight.

He rang the bell and waited. There was no answer. He tried again. They must be out. David felt relieved. Now at least he would be able to go away for a few hours to think more carefully what he would say. Before going he decided to knock. The bell might be out of order. He knocked and to his surprise the door swung open.

He walked in timidly and called his brother’s name. He pushed open the sitting-room door and stood completely still. There was not a single personal possession in the room. The table-tops were bare. The carpet appeared to be newly swept. He walked through the door into the adjoining kitchen. He opened the fridge and saw that it had been cleaned out. On the top of the chest-of-drawers in the
bedroom
he found a child’s glove, but that was all.

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him and a voice
saying
:

‘What do you want?’

He turned and saw a stocky man wearing a dirty white shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

‘I was looking for my brother, Mr. Lifton.’

‘He’s gone. Just walked out one night and his wife left two days later.’

‘Did either of them leave an address?’

‘Not a thing. They didn’t even leave a week’s notice. I lose nearly fifteen pounds whenever this sort of thing happens
and with the rates going up again and most of them fiddling the meters, I can tell you I feel pretty bad about it.’

‘So do I.’

 *

In the street again he decided to try and find the local pub to see whether any more could be found out. In the gateway he tripped over a milk bottle. He picked it up and saw the note: ‘Lifton, two pints.’

 *

‘The Adam and Eve’ was a small pub on the next corner. From behind the bar a man shouted:

‘We’re not open yet.’

‘I don’t want a drink.’

‘I’m not serving sandwiches either.’

‘Did you know a Mr. Lifton?’

The barman called over to a man in the corner playing bar billiards:

‘Alf, he wants to know about that Steven bloke, the one who came in evenings.’

Alf spat noisily and came over to where David was
standing
.

‘Tell him then, you mucky bastard,’ the barman said and then started laughing. Alf joined in.

‘He came in last four days ago. Was it Thursday or Friday?’ The barman shrugged his shoulders. ‘Drank the best part of a bottle of Scotch and started swearing about his wife and kid. Asked me whether I was a family man and that sort of thing. He often did when he was drunk.’

‘Didn’t he have a suitcase with him that night?’ asked the barman.

‘Now you come to mention it, I think he did. Said he was going to catch an aeroplane or something daft like that. Said he was going to the Air Terminal the same night.’

‘He didn’t say where?’ asked David quietly.

‘He was odd’n that,’ said Alf ruminatively.

‘Got terrible some evenings,’ added the barman.

‘Never knew what he was thinking‚’ went on Alf.

David walked over to the door and out into the street. He felt dazed. ‘My fault, my fault,’ he muttered.

‘Did you see the way he looked?’ said the barman.

‘Expect that Lifton owed him money‚’ said Alf, going back to his game.

David stopped when he came to a telephone box. His heart was beating hard against his rib cage. There was a tight and choking feeling at the back of his throat.

He looked up the number of Sarah’s parents and dialled it. A child’s voice answered.

‘Can I speak to your Mummy?’ David asked. It must be Robin, he thought. He heard the child go on:

‘Granny’s coming. Mummy isn’t well.’

Soon he heard Sarah’s mother: ‘Who is that?’

‘David Lifton. I wondered if you could …’

David listened to the click of the receiver being put back again.

Why did I tell that lie? Was it ever really for her or for me, he wondered. So many years ago and yet if he hadn’t … perhaps this would never have happened. My fault, all my fault.