For Love or Money (7 page)

Robert was lying on the floor in front of his electric fire. Several books lay close to him but his head was resting on the carpet.

‘I’ve come to talk to you,’ Steven said, bending down next to him.

‘Must have dropped off … what time is it?’

‘Look, Robert, I need advice. You’re about the only friend I’ve got here. I want to put a case to you.’

Robert nodded; Steven looked unusually serious.

‘Has Barnard been bugging you?’

‘No, no, far more serious than that.’

‘Christ, you haven’t got Sarah pregnant?’

‘Keep calm, Robert, it’s about home.’

‘Yes …?’

Steven watched Robert sitting up; he was interested.

‘Robert …’ Steven paused; then, choosing his words
carefully
, he went on slowly. ‘If your mother lived with a man who you thought was spending too much of her money on another woman, what would you do?’

Steven watched him carefully. ‘Think hard, I know these arguments pretty well. I just want to see if there are any loopholes.’

Robert did not answer at once.

‘I suppose it depends how much use the man is.’

‘Exactly. The man used to be very useful; he helped run the house and above all he kept Mummy happy. She is a difficult woman, as you know: thoroughly unstable … can be as sharp as a razor and the next moment as sentimental as a schoolgirl. But now I’m not so sure that George is
playing
his part. You saw them together last Christmas. I’m not certain, but I think George is losing control.’

‘Well, hadn’t you better be quite certain?’

‘No, I’m quite sure enough. This is really a minor point. I found the address of his London flat six months ago and I’ve discovered the approximate rent from a landlord in the same street. If George is not doing his job properly, then his pay must be reduced.’

‘Why don’t you warn him?’

‘I have, but I don’t want him to feel that I might play any final cards. I don’t want to commit myself. He might panic and get rid of the flat, and without the flat I won’t be able to get rid of him when it’s convenient.’

‘How are you going to reduce his spending?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t without losing my weapon.’

‘Then you’ll have to get rid of him sooner than you want.’

‘Robert, there are times when I think you’re worth your scholarship.’

Robert shrugged. Steven went on.

‘As it’s ultimately David’s and my money that he’s
spending
, I feel that more interests are at stake than his and
Mummy’s. I don’t know how much she’s got left, but I do know—although it may be momentarily inconvenient—that when the ideal occasion for removing George comes … it should be taken. The time may not be perfect, but the chance has come.’

Somebody was playing the trumpet in a room on the other side of the quad, the same tune again and again. The sun was getting lower and the room was almost in darkness. It was already beginning to feel colder. Robert turned on the other bar of the electric fire.

‘So you’re going to take it?’ Robert asked unnecessarily. Steven ignored the question.

‘Mummy thinks a lot of the money he gets goes on
keeping
his old mother but I’m almost sure she keeps herself. Every year that passes he’s spending at least £3,000 of our money. If I told Mummy about the flat … had George followed and that sort of thing … found out about his
infidelity
for certain … do you suppose she’d be grateful to me?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Precisely, what the eye doesn’t see etcetera … she’d curse the day that I’d been born for ruining the protective cocoon of her ignorance.’

‘But she wouldn’t cut you off?’

‘I’m the elder son. She can act impulsively; she might change the will in favour of David; she wouldn’t cut me off.’

‘Can’t you make it look as though it wasn’t you … some coincidence? I could see him with her and tell you.’

‘No good, I’d have to tell her when it came to revealing. There’s only one person who can finish him without ruining me and that’s David.’

‘So you say: “Be a good boy, David, here’s the address, hop along to London, and you’ll find George in bed with a lovely bit.” Highly intelligent.’

‘I had a letter this morning …’ Steven’s eyes were
shimmering
in the steadily darkening room. The college bells were ringing for early evensong. ‘The letter was from David …’

Steven explained to Robert. When he had done so he went on:

‘He leaves the specialist at five-thirty on this coming Saturday and should be at the flat by six. It’s perfect, he can’t miss them.’

‘And if he does?’

‘It will be a pity. But the flat will still be there. I’ll have to think again.’

‘But even if all goes well, your mother will still know that you gave him the address.’

‘But don’t you see, he’ll have asked me for it. My action will appear to be unpremeditated … I happen to know the address at which George usually stays when in town…. David asked me, so I saw nothing wrong in giving it him. After all I needn’t have even been suspicious. She can’t mind-read.’

‘What about David then?’

‘Oh, he’ll be all right; bit of a shock for him, but George always said that he ought to grow up a bit. It’ll so obviously be a freak of chance that Mummy won’t suspect him of malice. She knows he hasn’t got it in him anyway. Besides there’s another aspect, once the thing’s discovered the exact causes are likely to be blurred. She won’t feel in the mood for detective work.’

‘Are you absolutely sure that George has got another woman?’

‘No proof … but I don’t think you can seriously tell me that he’d spend
£
1,500 for a week-end-a-month flat if he didn’t “entertain”. I’ve stayed in the place … extremely well-appointed. Of course he’d removed any possible
evidence
before I got there.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t find out about the woman earlier … knowing the address.’

‘Robert, I’ve already explained, I wouldn’t be able to use the information without harming myself.’

Robert got up from the floor and went over to the
cupboard.
Steven heard the clattering of tea cups.

‘Thought we might have some tea.’ Steven nodded. ‘The only thing that occurs to me …’ Robert mumbled, his head
in the cupboard, still searching for another cup. ‘Thing is … what happens to your mother when he’s gone? Big ships take little ones with them.’

‘She’ll cling to anything left which isn’t firmly out of her grasp.’

Robert looked up sharply.

‘So you’ll have to get out before Saturday in fact, which leaves David …’

‘I’m afraid you couldn’t have put it better than I myself.’

‘That’s where Sarah …’ Robert wasn’t smiling. ‘May I be the first to offer you my congratulations.’

‘You really do astonish me, you can be so perceptive.’

‘So David’s left with Mum and you marry Sarah and try to grab your share before anything else happens.’

‘That’s right … of course as you seem to have guessed I became engaged this morning. An engagement is I think firm enough for the moment. Mummy wouldn’t want me to break the girl’s little heart.’

‘Christ, if I astonish you, you leave me bleeding
speechless
. You’re really going to live your life to the letter of the theory.’

‘Life comes first and theories after and because of life’s problems.’

‘Well, thank you very much indeed, Mr. Machiavelli, for coming along and talking on “Woman’s Hour” … I’m sure that a lot of …’

‘Not now, Robert.’

‘In nomine filio …’

‘Robert, I came for advice …’

‘I’m afraid my advice won’t be much use; you know what I feel about Sarah.’

‘Try and give the “she’s too good for you” stuff a miss … try and be unbiased.’

‘Unlike you, I can’t separate mind from body …’

‘Don’t be so bloody self-righteous. Anyway it should be reason from emotion … a rather different proposition I think you’ll agree. I wasn’t proposing indifference to
sleeping
with an ape.’

‘I’ve listened well, Steven; I’ve answered your questions
and asked others. Don’t ask for more, you can’t expect me to agree with you as well. If there are any loopholes you will have seen them. In theory I can see no flaws. But Steven in weeks, in months, years … this room and my answers now … you’ll pay.’

‘Banquo, I didn’t come for philosophy; I came for logical replies. You have given me both and I’m grateful.’

Steven got up. ‘I really am grateful, Robert,’ he added, smiling. A second later and the door had closed behind him.

Going down the stairs he grinned; silly of him, he should have remembered that Robert had been in love with Sarah … still might be for all that. He ought to know … Robert was, after all, his best friend. One day he’d find out what made him really tick. It was difficult to imagine Robert in love, he was always so sensible. Yes, one day he’d ask him about himself … might be quite amusing.

Outside in the quad again, Steven wished he’d brought a coat. He buttoned his jacket to the top and turned up the collar.

Back in his rooms he sat down at the table. With one arm he swept all the remains of last night’s industry on to the floor. He then pulled a writing-pad out of the drawer and began on the first of the two letters. He complimented David on his idea … of course it would be nice to see George, he would probably be quite pleased to see him when he arrived. Absolutely right, there was no point in letting him know beforehand. Probably he
would
say no. The letter was easy really. The second was easier still. He decided to type it. He dated it for the following day and put the address of George’s flat at the top.

That ought to convince them of Esmond Flower’s
undoubted
existence. He put the letter in an envelope and typed the address. He then enclosed it in a larger envelope, with a note of explanation to a friend in London, who was to post the enclosed letter from there on arrival. The matron was probably a fool, but no risks could be taken even with the postmark.

The whole process had taken barely half an hour. Steven looked at the envelopes on the table … the end of an era, all for the price of two stamps and a train ticket. He felt specially pleased with the one to the matron. The
intimations
of previous knowledge of the child’s health and the tone of kindly concern, struck exactly the right note.

The end of an era … he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes …

He hummed gently. Perhaps it was sad in a way … he had a drink and started to get into the mood. And yet how could any of it be taken seriously? The pre-war clothes and hats, the ancient wirelesses and telephones, the daring of women smoking cigarettes? Of course all that had been new once. But now it was just so funny, it all tied into the
drawing-room
comedy of his home life where nobody worked and where every action was part of a game to stave off boredom. And when all else fails let’s try the drunkenness game. My God, they’d been so empty that they’d have rows for no reason at all except to change the pitch of the tedium. And then drawing-room comedy, with its animal card-games and backgammon, descended to music-hall farce, with flying cutlery and hiding in the lavatory. Only an existence like his mother’s and George’s could combine unthinking whimsy with meaningless indignity. They weren’t stupid,
they’d just lost the art of applying what wisdom they once had. There was nothing really for them to apply it to. Now the only glimmers of practicality came out in the parables of George’s clichés. Perhaps his mother’s growing interest in religion had some point. At least if God loves you, you don’t have to hear his answers to protestations of fidelity.

Steven got up and went over to the sofa. Where are the fighter pilots now? Fat and sexless … just like George. And the Spitfires and the Hurricanes, those brave little toys, are as useless as air-rifles. Those were the days when red pillar boxes and suet pud meant ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ and the red buses were symbols of democracy. Old films he’d seen showed armoured cars rolling through Parliament Square and uniforms in every street. All the brave and young were fighting … his father Lifton had been unfit … ‘Young wives with elder husbands, there’s time to have some fun … how about voluntary get-togethers with our fighting boys … visit a hospital or two and take your choice. Have a soldier for your love … everybody who isn’t fighting is past it, or getting white feathers with the post.’ To be bitter about the period that raised up George would be stupid … now the bomb-sites have given way to council flats and the only people who strut around in uniforms with medals,
disabled
servicemen.

We ought to hold open house for the North-country charabancs. Drawing-room comedy isn’t over yet, and music hall has a new lease of life at devil-may-care Trelawn. Back to the thirties and early forties … see George VI in a
bathing-suit
with shoulder straps singing at a seaside boys’ club. Princess Elizabeth is still doing her bit in the uniform of the W.A.T.S. But put away the picture books and it’s all a bit clearer … George the idle opportunist with bed sores and his mother, a woman who had seen nothing in trousers except Lifton for ten years and felt that it was time for a last fling. And now did she still see him as the handsome young officer? Steven winced, she probably did if one could judge by the way she sometimes looked at him. But those gay years are coming to an end … ‘Ending of an Era’, read all about it.