He had parked the car and they had begun to walk when she said, ‘Max I want you to loan me ten thousand pounds to help me start up in London. I know it won’t last me long, but it’ll be better than nothing. When — or whether — I’ll ever be able to pay it back is another matter.’
He sighed. ‘That’s a big whack. Will it be enough for you?’
‘I’m hoping to last five years in London. Despite the stupid expense there are still cheap cultural activities, aren’t there?’
‘They’ll pass an afternoon.’
‘Joe thinks it’s all stupidity, consumerism and self-hatred down here, but he will visit me and I’ll go home when I need to. Otherwise I’ll explore — places and people.’
‘Is Joe all right about that? Or is he still as indifferent to everyone as he used to be?’
‘As always, he’ll be happy for me to live as I wish. I drive him mad with my frustration and he’s never wanted to be my jailer. The kids will come down too. My son has already climbed the front of the Houses of Parliament in that recent protest. They’re at the right age for the city.’
Max said, ‘It’s always seemed odd to me that you live with someone who lacks the ability to make conversation.’
‘Why do we have to communicate verbally when we are already in tune?’
‘What was the communication when you said you were going to ask me for money?’ He was looking at her. ‘Didn’t you tell him?’
‘I will tell him when I know what’s going on.’
‘I wouldn’t risk the relationship,’ he said. ‘Lucy and I know a lot of middle-aged women trying to hunt down men on the net and it’s a pathetic business.’
‘Don’t lecture me. But I do often think, why the hell didn’t I choose more solvent men?’ They walked past some people who were planting trees. ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked. ‘Go on, please say.’
‘I was thinking, what if I took that shovel and smashed it over your head?’
She was laughing. ‘I knew that. See, we still have the same thoughts.’
He stopped and said, ‘Can I hold you?’
‘Here, why?’
‘Just to see. Or to try to remember.’ He took her in his arms and put his face in her hair and neck. He kissed her face, ran his hands across her back, up her thighs, and he looked at her hands.
‘Anything else you want to touch or see?’ she asked. ‘My breasts, genitals?’
‘No, no.’ He went on, ‘Ten grand’s a lot of money. You’ll never pay it back. I’ll have to give it to you.’
‘You won’t even notice.’ She went on, ‘I’m so bored by everything. I even prefer America. At least they can vote for Obama or Hillary. A black or a woman. What do we have? Boris Johnson. A character from P. G. Wodehouse.’
‘No better man to run London, then. I’m thinking of voting for him. Anything for a change.’
‘Oh God. Have you changed so much?’
‘I like to think I’m capable of revising my views. It would be as daft to believe the same things over the years as it would be to wear the same clothes.’
‘For instance?’
‘The Falklands. Thatcher was right there, fighting the fascist Galtieri. And then taking on the trade unions, the whole country held to ransom by a few fundamentalist Lefties who wouldn’t grow up.’
She stiffened. ‘Oh Jesus, Max, all those years of struggle to end up recanting, and for what? Just to look like a turncoat?’
‘Look,’ he said. ‘It didn’t work, socialism, communism, the whole idea was fucked. It’s the biggest disappointment of our lives, but don’t we have to take it like men?’
She said, ‘By the way, you carrying your chequebook?’
‘You want the money now?’
‘Once it’s done you won’t think about it again. Then we can talk about less painful things.’
‘But I haven’t thought it through. What would Lucy say?’
‘Lucy?’
‘What if I discovered she’d donated ten grand to some indigent ex?’
‘Is that what I am to you?’
‘The wife’s not going to be working long hours on a film set for you to take a free dab because you fancy a change of location. She’s the breadwinner in our family.’
‘This is doing my head in,’ she said. ‘Let me sit down.’ They sat on the grass, leaning against a tree. ‘Max, I never asked for her money.’
‘She and I are together. We don’t just go with any stranger who takes our fancy for five minutes. Sex is easy but love is difficult. It’s very serious.’ He went on, ‘And it’s not as though the money is for something essential like a cancer operation or plastic surgery.’
‘No, it’s more important than that. What happened to play, to wildness and experiment?’ She got up and he followed her; they walked to the tea-house and ate scones.
She said, ‘Do you think you’re envious?’
‘Of what?’
‘All you’ve done is criticise everything I believe in. But I’m not an old woman yet, Max. I haven’t given up, as you appear to have, or become complacent. Feminism taught me that women are capable of deep passion, aliveness and exploration. We can burn on until the end of the night whether we win or lose.’
‘How could I not envy you that spirit, though it sounds forced?’ Then he said, ‘Freud recommends efficient sublimation as the only way forward. You divert yourself, usefully, for life. There’s a bit of passion left over, which is tragic, but you have to live with the frustration. It’s character-building.’
‘What pompous cobblers,’ she said. ‘Are you saying no?’
‘I don’t fucking know, Maggie,’ he said. ‘Why is it that most of one’s middle age is spent arguing? I wanted to enjoy a pleasant lunch and all you’ve done is ruin my bloody day and probably my night. You know I suffer from anxiety. I’m going to have to take a pill.’
‘Oh, shut the fuck up and stop being so evasive as usual.’
‘But I really can’t answer you, my dear. I have to think about it. There are so many other priorities than your self-fulfilment.’
She said, ‘I don’t like to mention it, but didn’t I support you while you developed your career?’
‘I walked and fed and changed and paid for your wonderful son every day,’ he replied.
‘But why shouldn’t you have? Whose job is it to bring up the children?’
Max drove them back to the house, where he made tea in the kitchen. There were four boys in the garden, wearing only boxer shorts and flip-flops, lifting weights, kicking a ball, pushing one another around.
‘A bunch of chavs and pikeys chased us down the road,’ one of the boys said. ‘That’s why we’re sweating.’ He said to Maggie, ‘There’s a council estate across the street.’
Max said, ‘What did you do to provoke them?’
‘The lowlifes threatened us with a shank. They said, “We know where you live”, and Jack said, “We know where you live, in a disgusting council flat with a pit bull eating the sofa and your mother a crack whore.”’
Max said, ‘Maggie will sort them out. She’s a social worker.’
‘Chavs and pikeys,’ she said. ‘Are those the latest descriptions?’
He got up and said suddenly, ‘You not only wanted feminism, which was an excellent thing, but you attacked all authority, particularly that of fathers, preferring equality. You made sure that authority died, but there was no equality, only chaos, and that’s why we’re in a mess. Take responsibility for something at last, Maggie. Not everything is capitalism’s fault.’
‘Isn’t it? This society has become more and more unequal under Blair, the rich taking it all, buying art up and everything else. And the authority you so idealise, Max, was usually corrupt, exploitative and cruel. Why can’t each individual have authority? We’re not all children.’