Reality and Dreams (4 page)

‘Scotch
and soda,’ said Ruth.

‘A diet
Cola,’ said Marigold, who looked decidedly put out by Ralph’s proprietary
actions. ‘I hope,’ she said, ‘you have signed on with a B.A. and let them have
your C.V. with a claim for A.P.L.’

‘What
are B.A., A.P.L.?’ said Ruth.

‘Benefits
Agency; Accreditation of Prior Learning. C.V. means curriculum vitae which
means —’I know that one,’ said Ruth.

‘So do
I,’ said Ralph. ‘If you mean am I applying, or looking, for other jobs, well,
yes, at least I mean to do so.’

‘You
need to find your L.A.’s U.B.O. and perhaps put in for some E.T.’

‘Oh
certainly,’ said Ralph, ‘every time.’

Marigold
looked disappointed. ‘Do you know what these letters stand for? Of course you
don’t. L.A. is Local Authority, U.B.O. is the unemployment benefit office of
your L.A. E.T. is Employment Training which you will no doubt need if you are
adaptable to a new occupation. These terms of reference should be known to you.
They are known to me so why shouldn’t they be known to you?’

Ruth
said, ‘One lives and learns. In the meantime we have my pay to live on.

‘Still
you should have some I.S.’ (By this Marigold meant Income Support but Ralph and
Ruth enquired no further.)

‘I saw
in the papers,’ Ruth said, ‘that your father had a fall. How is he?’

‘Still
physically impaired, but otherwise more exasperating than ever. He’s home now,
keeping to his room for the time being. I suppose the nursing home was glad to
get rid of him. He made passes at the youngest nurses and cheeked up to the
older ones. I was there in his room when one of these older women came to check
his temperature and so on. She asked him, “Have your bowels acted?” He said, “Yes,
have yours?” That was the sort of thing. I’m sorry for my mother, coping with
him at home. There’s a nurse, of course, eating into the family fortunes. My
half-sister Cora eggs him on. She rang me up. She said, “I’ve told Pa to keep
on the night nurse too if he wants it. That’s what money is for.”‘

‘Will
he direct films again?’ said Ralph.

‘Maybe
and maybe not. He’s writing a lot at the moment. Probably a film script. But
there’s no knowing what the shock has done to his abilities. I hope he has an
insurance and an S.D.A., otherwise —’S.D.A.?’ said Ruth.

‘Severe
Disablement Allowance,” Marigold pronounced slowly to Ruth, as if to a cretin.
‘Otherwise my mother will have to support him.’

‘Oh but
she’s so wealthy,’ said Ralph.

‘You’d
be surprised,’ said Marigold, ‘to know how much dependent members of a family
can deplete a fortune.’

‘Oh,
obviously,’ Ruth said. ‘But look, those Blantyres from upstate New York are
very, very, well off.’

‘And
flourishing,’ said Ralph. ‘Blantyre Biscuits Inc. are away ahead. Surely your
mother has suffered no loss by her marriage, no deprivation. She’s still a Blantyre
with Blantyre money and a famous husband.’

‘There
comes a time,’ said Marigold. ‘However, there comes a time when one has to see
things
sub specie aeternitatis.
Which means,’ she said, turning to Ruth,
‘under the light of eternity. That is what my parents now have to do. Examine
their utility, their service ability, their accountability, their duties and
commitments, instead of respectively womanising and manising as they have
done in the past, as they continue to do, and as they no doubt mean to do.’

‘What
else should they do?’ said Ruth.

‘They
could get a divorce, for a start,’ said Marigold. ‘Oh no,’ protested Ralph and
Ruth almost simultaneously.

‘My
mother has a man,’ said Marigold. ‘I think his name’s Charlie. The phone rang
several times when I was there. Once my mother ran to pick up the receiver; she
said, “That’s Charlie.” Evidently it was Charlie. And when I asked her how did
she know it was Charlie’s call, she said, “I know his ring.” That means she’s
besotted.’

CHAPTER
FIVE

Tom’s room overlooked a
garden of twisting gravel pathways, grass, shrubbery and trees. There were no
flower-beds. His furniture and part of the floor were covered with books and
papers. It was a large room, meant for himself and Claire who, since Tom’s
accident, had made way for a night nurse who was lodged in an adjacent dressing
room. Now Claire was back in the dressing room, the night nurse being
unnecessary. However, Tom had the huge bedroom to himself for his exercises and
massages by the day nurse Julia. In part of the great room was a space where a
sofa, some comfortable chairs and a table of drinks and some smaller tables
were disposed, and here Tom received his visitors who stepped over the books to
greet him, shake his hand, or hug him as the case might be. As his injuries
improved, the more frequently did he hold court. ‘My bedroom,’ he boasted to
Claire, ‘is the in-place to be.’

Marigold’s
brother-in-law Ralph and his wife Ruth were among his visitors one time when
Tom was alone. They were on their way home having cut short their stay with
Marigold to one night. Tom had not seen them for at least two years, since
Marigold’s wedding. He had taken Marigold up the aisle on his arm and was aware
of James’s tribe in their pews. Later, at the feast, he had met them all, and
perceived that they were a clever lot. He liked Marigold’s husband, a
journalist at that time, and only hoped he could make Marigold relax. Now he
was a travel-writer, not that he ever took Marigold with him on his travels. It
looked bad. But James’s brother Ralph was one of the family he had thought
amiable and felt easy with. Claire had taken to the wife, Ruth, a shapely girl.

Claire
ushered them in to Tom, who raised his elbow-crutch in greeting and turned off
the television. It was exactly six o’clock in the evening. ‘Have a drink,’ said
Tom. ‘Claire, give them a drink.’

Claire’s
charm oozed out towards them. She was always extremely well groomed with a
shiny blonde head, clear eyebrows and an oval made-up face. Her neat coat and
skirt were dark, her silk shirt white. She prepared the drinks with a flash of
long silver fingernails.

‘You
have troubles,’ said Tom to Ralph. ‘I hear you’ve lost your job.’

‘You
have worse troubles,’ said Ralph. ‘Tell us how you are.

‘Some
days better than others. I take pills. The physiotherapist comes. I do
exercises. Sooner or later I’ll be back to normal. At my age it might be later
rather than sooner.’

‘It
must have been a frightful shock,’ said Ruth.

‘He’s
lucky to be alive,’ Claire said.

‘Being
alive is not always lucky. But in my case it is because I enjoy my life. Can
you two stay a few nights?’

‘Of
course they can,’ said Claire. ‘We’ve already arranged it.’

‘Because,’
said Tom, ‘I have to go to bed early. I have supper in bed. Julia, my nurse,
has to be home by seven-thirty. She has three children and a nice husband to go
to. But I’d like to have a chance to talk to you tomorrow in the day time.’

‘We
could all look in and see you later tonight,’ Claire said.

‘No, I’ll
drop off to sleep after the news.’

‘Oh
Tom,’ said Claire, ‘you must try to get out of that habit of going to sleep so
early. It’ll make you old. Look at the politicians of sixty-three at the height
of their careers.’

‘They
make me want to sleep all the more, especially during their interviews. No
eloquence, no gifts at all. And the show generally so shabbily produced. Evil
lighting. Spiteful close-ups. All that. How I long for some literate
entertainment. I used to know lots of older writers, thinkers and theatre people.
They are all dead or nearly, now. The century is getting old, very old. Old
with all the faults of old age; especially what Eliot called “the desperate
exercise of failing power”. You see it everywhere. It’s grotesque.’

‘Have you any idea,’ Tom
asked Julia when she brought him his supper on a tray, ‘who is dining down
there to-night?’

‘The
two new guests,’ said Julia. ‘And Claire and Charlie.’

‘Describe
Charlie. Is he small and fat?’

‘No,
tall and manly. Very good-looking, in fact. Don’t work yourself up, Tom. I’m
sure he’s only a friend.’

‘Will
he stay here for the night?’

‘I don’t
think so.’ In the kitchen Claire the cook and Dollie, the maid, were debating
that very point. No extra bed made up in the single room, nothing arranged for
his breakfast. ‘We feel he’s only here for dinner, to make an extra man.’

‘How
good of you to get me all this information,’ said Tom. ‘Did he bring flowers?’

‘No, no
flowers. Perhaps he’ll send them tomorrow. They often send flowers after a
party.’

‘Does
he seem to have that much savvy?’

‘I don’t
know. I haven’t had the opportunity to judge him close-up,’ said Julia who was
putting on her outdoor things. ‘Will I wait for the tray?’ she said.

‘No,
Claire will come up and take it away later on. Good-night, Julia.’

‘See you
in the morning.’

In the morning Tom’s first
visitor was Ralph. It was nine-thirty. The bed was made and Tom was sitting in
his chair with his legs up on an orthopaedic rest.

‘Apart
from this disability,’ said Tom, ‘we are putting a lift in the house, so that
we can get up and down. As it is, I expect to do the stairs within a month, six
weeks. That’s what they say.’

‘If
there’s anything I can do…’

‘Nothing,
thanks. I suppose you are busy looking for another job.’

‘I’m
going to be active in that area. I believe it’s more exhausting looking for
work than doing it.’

‘Did
your redundancy come as a shock?’

‘Yes.
Although I might have expected it. I was truly under shock. From one moment to
the next I had status, a settled income, then nothing. But I pulled myself
together enough to make a deal with the firm. That included the severance
handshake and the hush-money.’

‘What
hush-money?’

‘Not to
reveal the secrets of the firm to the next employer.’

‘That
should be a difficult promise to keep. You would be bound to use your utmost
knowledge in a new job.’

‘Yes,
it’s an impossible promise to keep. It’s only that once having signed an
agreement one doesn’t actually go round selling knowledge as a separate item.
Especially in the electronics business, knowledge is valuable.’

‘Knowledge
is always valuable,’ said Tom. He was looking at Ralph with new eyes: check
shirt, smart, loose country jacket, slim twill trousers, good shoes. An open
face with a flush of pink, wide grey eyes, plenty of sleek dark hair, hands in
good shape. Ralph had been envied for his earning power by his brother, Tom’s
son-in-law, who wrote travel books but lived above his income, largely, now, on
Marigold’s money which, through Claire, was considerable. Ralph was no longer a
financial prodigy. He was out of work, probably for a long time, possibly for
ever.

‘You
have youth on your side,’ Tom said.

‘You
mean I can switch my brain to something else?’ Ralph said.

‘Yes,
that’s one of the things I mean.’

‘I can
tell you from personal experience,’ Ralph said, ‘that redundancy causes sexual
disaster. It causes anxiety and inadequate erections.’

‘These
are early days,’ said Tom. ‘You’ll get over that hang-up in a few weeks.’

‘According
to statistics, no. Apparently the phenomenon of male redundancy is frequently
accompanied by a brusque fall in sexual activity and reduced desire with the
impossibility of having a complete erection. I read an article about it, and
now I’ve found it’s so.’

‘It
will pass. It’s only the result of shock. Don’t try.’

‘That’s
what Ruth says. She’s very understanding about it.’

‘Lucky
fellow.’

Julia
came in with her many-toothed smile, fresh in her mauve and white uniform. She
had a small medicine glass containing a number of antibiotic pills in one hand
and a glass of water in another. Tom swallowed the pills and washed them down. ‘Beastly
stuff,’ he said.