Part 8 (1/2)
”I've been thinking, Mummy. You must be terribly cramped in Nancy's room.”
”I'm absolutely fine. The youngsters need the s.p.a.ce much more than I do. More tea, dear?” Mrs. Rutherford was busying herself with the pot, and, as usual, Grace couldn't catch her eye.
”Why don't you swap with me?” she tried. ”You'd be so much more comfortable in my room.”
”As I said, I'm fine. Please don't trouble yourself about this, Grace.”
”But it isn't right that you should be so inconvenienced. Not with Daddy...Not after the difficult time you've had. Nancy ought to be ashamed of herself, putting you out of your own bedroom.”
A steely glare. ”She has done no such thing. It was my idea entirely. And as I've already said, I'm fine. Now do let it alone.”
”Of course. Whatever you say.” Grace sat gripping the edge of the table, trying to calm herself. Focusing all her energy on not saying what she wanted to say.
Late in the evening, on George's last night, Grace found herself alone with him before the fire. Mother had turned in at her usual ten o'clock. Nancy had then become overwrought about his imminent departure and had gone up for a calming bath. The two were left in an uneasy silence, staring into the still-lively flames, drinking brandy.
”There's something I wanted to ask you, Grace.” George swirled the golden liquid around his gla.s.s.
”Yes, of course I'll look after Nancy while you're away.” Grace had finished her drink and was fighting the urge for another. ”She's my sister.”
”Thanks...but that wasn't it.” His voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. Grace darted a look at him.
”What, then?”
”I just...” He raked a hand through the auburn hair. ”Are you angry?”
”Why on earth earth should I be should I be angry angry with you?” This was spoken in a kind of snarl. with you?” This was spoken in a kind of snarl.
”Yes, I thought as much.” He looked up at her and smiled nervously. ”You're not much good at hiding it.”
”Light me a cigarette, would you?” She tried to calm herself. An opportunity had arisen unexpectedly, and she had to work out how to grasp it. If they were ever to talk openly with each other about what had happened between them-about what it all meant-then it had to be now. This might be the last time they would ever be alone together, after all. Oh, G.o.d G.o.d. She mustn't allow herself to believe this could be the last time!
He had gotten up-no need for those crutches now-and was reaching for the packet that was tucked behind the clock on the mantelpiece. He was saying something about the difficulty of their all being here under one roof. He was mumbling halfheartedly, and she found she wasn't listening. Instead, she was working out what she wanted to say to him. She was looking at his long back. His neck.
”You've changed,” she said, cutting across his vagaries.
”Of course I have.” He handed the lit cigarette over and she set it in her holder. He'd lit one for himself, too. ”How could it be otherwise?”
”You're not the old George anymore. All polite and proper and nice. Funnily enough, there's more of Steven in you now. It's as if the two of you have become one person-all rolled up in your body.”
”What rot.” It was spoken lightly but there was a visible tensing around his mouth and in his neck. He was sitting on the very edge of the chair.
Grace realized something. ”You're angry with angry with me me.”
”No, I'm not. But would you blame me if I was? That was a pretty offensive thing you just said.” He dragged hard on his cigarette.
”You saw us, didn't you? Steven and me.”
”What?” But he was clearly playing for time.
The heat from the fire was oppressive and the room airless. She was dizzy with it all.
”You saw me with your brother that night. And it made you so angry that you went back into the house and proposed to my sister. You did it just to spite me! Of all the stupid things...”
A forced-sounding chuckle. ”You have incredible vanity, Grace.”
”Oh, really?”
”I love Nancy.”
She blew out a smoke ring. ”I hope that's true.” This was turning into a battle of sorts, albeit a subtle kind. ”You've certainly been very honorable. To her, I mean. You've done the right thing.”
The fire made a strange, slow, squeaking noise. It was as if there was something alive in there-something that was having the life squeezed out of it.
”Nancy wants Mother to have one of those smart little gas fires installed in here,” said Grace absently. ”The new sort, like the one in her bedroom. Sorry-your bedroom. She says it'll be nice and clean and easy.” bedroom. She says it'll be nice and clean and easy.”
”I married your sister because that was what we both wanted. Both Both of us.” of us.”
A loud pop from the fire. A fizz. She tried not to notice the way George flinched at the noise.
”Over my dead body, I told Mother. A real fire is something alive. I love all the s.m.u.ts and the dirt. I don't like things to be too nice and clean and easy.”
”Things never are, are they?” He got to his feet and threw his cigarette into the fire.
”Poor Nancy.”
”Save your sympathy. We're perfectly happy.”
”You're finding this as difficult as I am. Aren't you?” Her voice was softer now.
He took up the poker and prodded the logs to encourage the flames to die down. Carefully put the fire guard in place. ”It was a world ago, Grace. That day on the Heath. Everything has changed since then. Everything Everything. You have no idea what difficult difficult is.” is.”
”I'm sorry.” She was embarra.s.sed. Humbled in the face of his grandly unknowable experiences. ”You're right, of course. What could I possibly know?”
He closed his eyes.
”I wish I did did know, George. I wish you'd talk to me about it all.” know, George. I wish you'd talk to me about it all.”
George sighed and opened his eyes. ”When Steven and I first arrived in France, we were sent to Harfleur for technical instruction before going up the line. It was something they did with the new fellows. We were supposed to be there for a couple of weeks or so. It was all drilling, musketry, lectures about gas and bombs...One day, when we were waiting for an instructor to come and talk to us about bombs, a sergeant decided to give a little unofficial talk, sort of a preliminary session. Well, this sergeant was giving us a caution on what not not to do with a percussion grenade, and he went and knocked the thing against the table to demonstrate his point. d.a.m.n thing went off, killing him and two others and wounding a further ten.” to do with a percussion grenade, and he went and knocked the thing against the table to demonstrate his point. d.a.m.n thing went off, killing him and two others and wounding a further ten.”
”Oh, my G.o.d.”
”Grace...”
She knew what he was about to say even before he said it.
”Steven was one of the two. He never even made it to the trenches.”