He bit at some of the leaves, took them away from his mouth so that they fluttered to the ground. He walked to the nearest tree and clipped off a piece of bark. He flaked it to dust, and smiled. The humid summer had eaten it through. The lazy call of a bird made him look up nervously. There was something tender and pathetic about him, and so no cruelty in secretly observing him. He broke a stick and smelled the white disfigured joint. She wondered where she’d seen the face before, or of whom it reminded her. Lines of pain creased his forehead at what he had done, and he straightened the stick and put it in the grass as if intending to come back later and bury it. What unease remained in his expression was caused by some vital disillusionment that his sensibility had taken years to overcome. The marks of the first great inhuman betrayal were still in the lines around his eyes, and would stay till he died because they had become a permanent part of his features. She made no noise, but he turned and they recognised each other; never having met before.
‘You must be Myra,’ he said. ‘Albert told me about you.’
‘You’re John. He told me about you, too.’
‘I recognised you by your hair and eyes.’
‘He must have described me well,’ she said. ‘He’s a painter, of course.’
‘It’s not that. It’s that air of being alone in the world that you carry about with you. I like to meet people who can’t conceal what they are, and what ails them. It’s very touching and refreshing. I hope you don’t mind me saying so?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Albert told me you never left the house.’
He took out a cigarette, and gave her one. ‘This is my first time in fifteen years. You are the first person I’ve met. I suppose you thought I was someone just escaped from a lunatic asylum. I was just renewing my contact with vegetation, trees and grass. It was very painful, until I knew someone was watching me, and I saw it was you.’
She noted how similar his voice was to Albert’s, but without the demonic edge of assertion. ‘I came to stay a few days,’ she said.
‘I know. I was to meet you at tea, but didn’t. It’s better this way.’ They went through the wood, John in front to clear the way. Reaching another field they walked side by side. ‘So neither of us know the way,’ she laughed. ‘But I don’t suppose we’ll get lost.’
‘I read your husband’s book,’ he said. ‘He must have been a profound and unhappy man. Those who write so lovingly and understandingly about the earth are really only happy when they become part of it. That may sound cruel, but it’s an observation I couldn’t help making as I read it. It must be a great success, because that sort of earthly love has an appeal for many people in this country.’
‘The critics approved,’ she said, not wanting to talk about it. He sensed this, and they walked a few minutes in silence. He pulled up a handful of grass. ‘Albert and Enid saved my life.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m glad you do. They’ve had hard lives, but found the love to save mine and not boast of it. I’m beginning to wonder what I can do to make my resurrection and their sacrifice worth while. I can’t continue to live at ease with myself and do nothing for the rest of my life.’
She waved away a cloud of thunderflies attracted by the sweat on her forehead. ‘I’d like to sit down for a moment.’
‘Of course. I don’t suppose you have any news?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You must forgive me, but that question was only a clumsy way of getting on to the subject. I’ve thought a good deal about him.’
‘I didn’t realise you knew Frank.’
‘Albert told me. Of all the people I’ve heard about and haven’t met he fascinates me the most.’ They walked two more fields and back in the direction of the house. Wheat was high in one, and the path through the middle was hidden by close high stalks, so they went by the hedge, bending when it arched towards the wheat. He walked with nimble assurrance for a man who hadn’t been beyond the house and garden in so many years, stepping quickly on any small patch of earth to avoid bending dozens of delicate rods. ‘I’d like to meet him,’ he added, ‘one day.’
‘I hope you do. I’m sure he’d like to meet you.’ He opened a gate for her to pass. ‘There’s only one way I can ever see him,’ he said, if he isn’t dead already, he thought. And neither of them talked any more before reaching the house.
Ralph was not unwelcome at The Gallery, which was the most one could say about his appearances there. Handley, being unable to obliterate him, had to forgive him for the desecration of his painting which, in its precision and black thought, had been almost German, which pained him since his forgiveness meant that Ralph would now be able to marry Mandy. He wanted no micrometered nightmares eating into his favourite daughter, yet what could you do if you didn’t intend to marry her yourself, except give her away with a good smile?
The question had been: Where was Mandy? Ralph looked at Handley with worry and loathing and disbelief when he said she’d departed for the battlefields of the M1 with the single-mindedness of an eleven-year-old girl in France from a bourgeois family during the war who’d set out with homemade bombs to join the Resistance. Ralph suspected Handley of having sent her away, hidden her until his passion was iced over.
He called every day to see if she had returned, and now found her locked in the Rambler and refusing to come out, playing patience on one of the lunch trays.
‘Mandy,’ he shouted, ‘please let’s go for a walk. I haven’t seen you for a month.’
‘That’s no reason,’ she said, letting down the window, ‘but I will soon. I can wait. I don’t want to miss the big dinner, though. You seen the booze-chariots going up and down? Dad will get bombed-out, gutter-drunk. He’s got his new bird up here. And Uncle John’s gone over the fields. Things are a bit upsetting, so I’m sticking around for the fun. Are you invited?’
‘I think so; your father mumbled something before pushing me aside.’
‘You’ll really see us in action.’
He’d heard this last phrase from his mother before leaving the house. ‘You’re going there again! Have you ever seen such a family in action?’ She was trying day by day to wear him down, but the guilt he felt after wrecking Handley’s painting had given him so much strength that he’d be able to resist her for years if necessary. It set him up with great self-assurance, which made her give up the loony-bin as a last resort for the dark and twisting path he had chosen, deciding that since he seemed strong again, more normal means of persuasion would be necessary.
He leaned by the car, looking in and down on her. ‘I think I know you all well enough by now.’
‘You think our bark is worse than our bite?’
‘It may be. Come out and give me a kiss. You can’t stay cooped up all the time.’
‘I feel safe in here. I’ve got the spare key in my pocket, and might take it into my head to light off, back to the motorway. With a powerful car like this I could show some of those rotten Minis where to get off, and leave a few wrecks smouldering on the hard shoulder! It weighs nearly two tons and does a hundred and twenty, the best thing Dad ever bought with his money. So don’t keep on about me coming out. What have I got to come out for? I’ve got all I want in here. Yeh, if people keep chipping their tinny faces in at me like rabbits I’ll slide off for another month’s fun.’
He stood back, appalled by her recklessness. Yet it was exactly this tendency that attracted him, Mandy being the only girl he knew who could threaten to crack open his mother’s skull with a starting-handle, which proved that she had more than a fair share for both of them. It was fortunate that she was a woman, and Mandy, and he felt that the sooner they were married the better. ‘It’s getting dark,’ he said.