The Lesser Bohemians (32 page)

He takes his glasses off, sets them down on the bed and sits rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. I say nothing to break the silence but watch a tear run down his cheek. Are you alright? He just nods and I know to leave him to calm himself.
Tic and tic and he sniffs it up, then wipes off his face.

I couldn’t speak Eily, hearing all that, coming from Marianne but up out of that different world. Like going back in time. Still being there. Feeling what was happening but looking at my mother and then off into the patch of fucking damp on the wall. And the dread of it, Eily      you know      like you’ll never escape.

Anyway      Marianne said my stepfather became very upset but said he was glad to be rid of the burden at last. He said your mother told him you were right to get away. That you deserved a life of your own but when you left the fear went everywhere. She tried to kill herself. She wanted to die but kept vomiting the pills and only in time understood why. Staying alive was the first part of the penance, she said. Years of rising to the surface, into the realisation of what she’d done. Years of living with the guilt but still hoping you’d return. She’d have forgone even forgiveness just to see your face again. But it crept into her, the knowledge that neither would happen and all life had become without you. Acceptance, and its attendant despair, was the second part of the penance for her. Its merciful third was her absence from the world, it could be her only amends. She finally understood how to encourage death to come. Let the years of starving take their toll. And she hoped, wherever you were now, you had made your life your own. He said she never spoke again after that. He thought she may have been waiting to confess because she deteriorated so rapidly afterwards and died the following night, alone. And he decided to leave you be. He thought she’d been right about that at least and didn’t think he could face you anyway.

He stops again and takes a breath. Lights another cigarette. Apparently he’d never told anyone before Marianne – I can’t
imagine he ever told anyone after. He said after she died he got rid of every trace because he couldn’t bear to think of what she’d done, on his watch. That he should have known and, when he thought about it, wondered if perhaps he had but it was easier to hang it on my difficult age and her just being a bit mad.

When I heard that story I was appalled, Marianne said And all I could think of was the night in the hospital when I told you your mother was dead. I don’t remember, what about it? I said. She said Stephen, as soon as I told you, you started to cry and you cried a long time for her. Of course I saw nothing strange in it then but later, when I knew   I wondered what it meant. Because I still wanted to be with you though, I chose to forget. I never called your stepfather again. I didn’t tell you or even remember until I began needing excuses for doing what I did. And I let what happened to you get so twisted in me. It’s suited me to consider it one more awful thing. Another example of what I was protecting Grace from and I’ve never had cause to revise that opinion until      I told her.

Christ, Eily, when she said that I felt sick. What did you tell her for? I said You had no right. I never wanted Gracie to know. I hadn’t planned to, she said But she arrived home one night very drunk and very late. When I confronted her, she just kept asking why you weren’t allowed to visit? She said she knew it wasn’t your choice, she could tell it was me. How she was going to move to London to get to know you properly and what was wrong with that? I had to say something Stephen. I couldn’t just concede. I thought if she knew how it had been she’d realise she was being unfair. So I told her the worst of how you were back then. I didn’t even have to embellish Stephen, the truth was bad enough. I told her about all the arguing and the sleepless nights. The brawling and the passing out. Junkies
dossing around the flat. Picking my way through their sick, even when I was pregnant. People kicking in the door looking for you. Waking up alone and not knowing what you were up to. Every penny we had thrown away on it and all we had to do without. Food. Heat. Rent. Freezing in the winter because we couldn’t afford coats. And what it was like, at four months pregnant, to get the call you’d collapsed. I’d been trying so hard to persuade myself that you were staying clean. You wouldn’t jeopardise this because you’d waited so long for the break but, all the same, there it was: We don’t know if he’ll pull through so you should get here fast. It was a miracle I didn’t miscarry then and there. And the shame of it Stephen, in front of the doctors. Then days of watching you in that bed. Not knowing, even if you came out of it, what would be left? Those weeks of waiting when you finally did. Having to leave the room because you’d get so upset and not knowing what I’d done. I didn’t know anything except you were a mess and I was alone. My parents were awful – they enjoyed not being surprised – and by the time I got you home I was so angry. I know that probably wasn’t very helpful but I still loved you and I hoped. All I wanted was a normal life Stephen. I wasn’t asking very much. And you were so apologetic, so remorseful that I believed you would change. Then the money began to go missing again. I kept explaining it away because the truth just made no sense. You knew your body wasn’t able, that it couldn’t. Then the day I had my check-up, I’d arranged to visit a friend but I couldn’t wait to tell you that the baby was well. It was the first good news in months so I came home instead. She was really kicking and I wanted you to feel it. But when I came in there you were, passed out on our bed. You and that asshole and a needle half pushed down the side like you thought I was stupid and might
think you were asleep. But I thought you were dead and as I checked for a pulse, I finally realised that you didn’t care. Not only about me or the baby but whether you were alive or dead. That’s when I knew I had to leave. I couldn’t take the fear of it any more, and the endless lies. So there was the humiliation of asking my parents if I could move back. Then the rest of the pregnancy I just waited for the call. I was actually relieved when you wound up in Friern. At least you were safe there even if everything else was destroyed.

God Eily, the things she said. I think I’d just blanked out what it was like inside. In my memory it’s always heading off somewhere, nodding out on someone else’s stairs or fucking about off my head. But I suddenly remembered what she was talking about. And it only got worse from there. She told Grace about the sleeping around. How I’d cheated on her every chance I had. Fucked her best friend in the toilet when we were on a night out. Given her the clap then accused her of giving it to me. About walking in on me with some girl in our bed and so wasted I didn’t notice until she hit me with a record. More often knowing I had been, smelling it off me, but I’d just lie right to her face. I did that all the time, I know I did. Everything she said was true Eily and horrible to hear, to really remember how I’d treated her and then think of Grace knowing too. She said she asked her, what kind of man does that Grace? I’ve given you the best of everything in life, how can you choose him over me? But Grace just kept asking why she had to choose between? That you’d been clean so long, how could you not be different? Your letters proved you were. I couldn’t have it Stephen, she said You being defended by her. I told her she knew nothing and I was sick of this childish romance about you she’d invented. You don’t know what that man’s capable of, I
said. He’s not fit to be your father. He isn’t safe. You said what? I said and she said, I said Grace, I’ve gone out of my way to protect you from this but that man    he and his mother      they were far more than mother and son and if you think I’d ever risk him doing the same to you, you are very much mistaken.

Jesus Eily, to hear her say that. To know she’d said it to Grace. I just got up saying Oh God, how could you? I know, she said But      But Eily, I thought I was going to fucking kill her. I started shouting How dare you? How dare you say that about me? Whatever fucked-up things I’ve done I could never hurt Gracie. Marianne just kept saying Please Stephen, please sit down. But I couldn’t and it just All these years, I shouted When will you have enough?   All these years of punishing me and now this. To try to frighten her      your own fucking child, for fuck’s sake, how could you do that to her? Everyone in the restaurant was staring and I just      couldn’t believe it. It’s the worst thing I could imagine being said about me and then said to my little girl. Eventually the waiter said If you don’t sit down you’ll have to leave. I nearly hit him and Marianne kept going Please Stephen, please. I wanted to walk out but      I couldn’t. I had to know what Grace said. Marianne was crying I think, by this stage and I was beside myself but      I did sit back down. And we sat. I was so fucking stunned it took a few minutes to ask What happened then, Marianne? She said I know that was awful, a terrible thing to say, and not true, I know you would never have hurt Grace. Marianne, I said I don’t really fucking care what you know, what does Gracie think? She said Grace asked what I meant? And you said? When he was growing up there was      some kind of sexual activity with his mother. Even as I said it I realised what I’d done but it was too late by then. She wanted to know everything I knew and how I did. I tried
to back-pedal but she was insistent, so I told her what I’ve just told you and      How did she react? I said. Stephen, she said She saw right through. She understood immediately and better than I ever had. I know he left home at sixteen, she said So what you’re saying is that     when my father was a child      his mother did something      molested him? He was younger than I am now so  isn’t that what that means? Grace, I said. No, she said You’re telling me my father was reared by a woman who did that to him? His own mother, the same way you’re mine? My grandmother. Grace, I said. And you’ve known this all my life? Every time I’ve asked about him and you’ve said what a liar he was, what a strung-out mess, you knew that had happened but you kept it to yourself? You didn’t think it would help to explain? I didn’t want to upset you Grace. But now you’re telling me, she said So I’ll be afraid of him. That’s the only reason you’re telling me, isn’t it? Jesus Christ Mum   he’s my father and something awful happened   what’s the matter with you? And she was right Stephen, I saw it so clearly then, what the anger’s done to me and how I’ve excused myself. All because I somehow had to win and seeing Grace see it made me very ashamed.

I know she called you the next day. I suppose that must have been a surprise. I don’t know what she said but obviously not what I had. To be frank, we’ve hardly spoken since. The only reason she hasn’t appeared on your doorstep is that I have her passport. I’ve tried to talk to her, to explain. She won’t have it. All she’ll say is that there has to be a change. So that’s why I called you. That’s why we’re here. I know you’ll find it rich of me to start asking for your help but I’m not asking entirely for myself. I’m asking because this is what Grace wants, even needs, and I’ve lost all right to refuse. So what exactly are you
asking Marianne? I said. And she said If you would be willing to come to Vancouver, Stephen, to start spending some time with her?

Oh Stephen! I say. He just nods. What did you say to her? Well, I’d sort of calmed down once I’d heard what Grace’s reaction was and      it’s not as if I was ever going to refuse, so I said Yes of course I will, and Marianne said Thank you.

We just sat there then. It was a lot to take in. Realising your worst secret isn’t a secret is a very odd sensation. I didn’t really know what to think. I couldn’t decide whether it was a relief or I still wanted to kill Marianne. But far beyond all of those things, those locked doors between Gracie and me were suddenly open. After so many years of waiting and wishing for only that. I had to keep turning away to wipe my eyes. I felt a bit useless actually Eil. And then the fucking food arrived.

He sits himself up and starts to smile. Oh bollocks, I thought and, like she read my mind, Marianne said Well, we might as well eat. Turned out I was hungry though, so I began wolfing it. We each had another glass of wine. Talked a little more about Grace and what had been going on. When would be a good time for me to come. Then we ordered another bottle of wine – I suppose we weren’t feeling so civilised any more. But, in spite of everything that had just been said, I felt suddenly pleased to be sat in that restaurant with Grace’s name passing back and forth between us. After so many years, and all that went wrong, it was right to sit with Marianne and talk about our girl. And, I don’t know if it was the wine or what, but I realised now was my chance to ask what I never thought I’d have the opportunity to. Can I ask you something Marianne? I said. Just as we’re getting along so swimmingly! she groaned Go on. Why did you take her the way you did? Just after she
was born it would have made sense but we’d been getting on pretty well for years – at least that’s how it seemed to me – and the way you left      it was such a shock. Why did you do it like that? I can’t believe you don’t know, she said. No, I said I don’t. I did it because I was still in love with you, she said And after everything we’d been through, when you finally cleaned up, you never asked me to come back. Not once Stephen and I would have too, right up to the moment when I got on that plane with her. Maybe you just didn’t love me any more, or maybe you were ashamed, but I loved you so much my only option was to hurt you in the end. I thought it was so obvious, especially to you. I’m surprised you didn’t realise. That never crossed my mind, I said No.

Remember those visits at David’s? she said When I started to show you how to do little things for Grace and we’d laugh together like we were just normal new parents? Yeah, I said Of course I do. Well on one of those days I looked at you – being hopeless, I think, with her babygro – and I suddenly knew all that love was still there, which was ridiculous, frankly, after everything, but true nonetheless. Too proud to show it, of course. I had to keep punishing you. I wanted you to come grovelling and chase me around like when we first met. I’d get my chance to recriminate but still take you back. So I waited for you to give me that look which would mean The Start. And I waited. And waited. And then realised you were with David. He and I were in the kitchen, having a chat. I mentioned something about us reconciling. You should talk to Stephen, he said but      the look on his face. I just knew. And after The Seagull, everyone did. That was so bloody typical of you. Real salt in the wound. But even when you and he finished I think I still hoped. Then one night, collecting Grace, I asked what had caused it
and you said you’d had a fling with Eleanor what’s-her-name. That’s when I knew I was wasting my time because you didn’t see me as anything other than Grace’s mother now. And you were always friendly, even warm, but you didn’t notice me any more. Not when I wore short skirts, or low tops, or told you I’d slept with someone else. Good for you, was all you said and never got that look in your eye again. God that look made me put up with so much. It made me feel like the most beautiful woman in London, but it was gone and only Grace mattered to you. All that struggle, trying to help, trying to persuade you to clean up and the moment Grace arrived, it all just vanished. I think I was jealous of how you felt about her, what you were willing to do for her, that’s terrible, isn’t it? Marianne, it wasn’t as straightforward as that, I said It’s not like I hadn’t given myself a good run for my money after you left. I know, she said But that’s how it seemed to me then. So when I met Phil, and we decided to move away, I saw a chance to make you think about me again. I pretended, even to myself, that it was about protecting Grace but I waited to tell you until the very last minute so it would be as bad as it could possibly be. I never doubted I’d shame you into agreeing. I could still read you pretty well and you were always so sorry, so ashamed. I knew what it would do to you, losing Grace. I did it so it would. But you looked at me, Stephen, really looked at me that night and I’d finally done something to you.