“Well, I can try,” said Miss Harmony. “There’s no harm in trying.” She paused, and looked down at Bertie’s boots. “We 146 Going Back
have some spare shoes in a cupboard downstairs,” she said.
“Should we go and have a look for a pair that fits you?”
They left the classroom together and went downstairs, Bertie hobbling now from the pain in his chafed ankles. “Poor Bertie,”
said Miss Harmony. “Here – take my arm. Lean on me.”
There was a pair of shiny brown shoes in the cupboard that fitted Bertie exactly, and once he was thus clad he began to feel somewhat more cheerful. He looked up at Miss Harmony and smiled.
“I’m sorry I wrote you that letter,” he said. “I haven’t got an infectious disease, you know.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I didn’t think for one moment that you had. The important thing is that you should be happy. And you’ve said sorry to me, which is very important.” She paused.
“You will be happy here, you know, Bertie. It’s a very happy school.”
Bertie thought for a moment. She was right. He did feel happier here than in the din and rush of Watson’s, with all those hundreds of boys and girls with names he would never remember. Rugby was not for him, he decided, and it was a good thing that there was no rugby at Steiner’s. It was fine for Mr Gavin Hastings to play it, he thought, but he, Bertie, would find something else to do. Even learning Italian was better than rugby.
Later that day, as he waited for his mother at the school gate, Tofu came up to him and asked him where he had found those boots. “Great boots,” he said.
“Would you like them?” said Bertie nonchalantly. “You can have them if you like.”
Tofu accepted gratefully. “Thanks, Bertie,” he said. “You’re a real pal.”
“And would you like me to bring a ham sandwich in tomorrow?” asked Bertie.
“Yes, yes,” said Tofu quickly. “Two, even. If you can spare them.”
“Fine,” said Bertie.
Tofu slapped him on the back in a friendly manner and went on his way.
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Bertie watched him walk away and thought about the events of the day. There had been several discoveries. One was that rugby was a rough game and another was that Jock was a false friend. But there were other things to reflect upon. Tofu was no longer a threat – and could even become a friend. And he suspected, too, that he might be happy at this nice school, which was a good place – even if it had been his mother’s choice. After all, there were some things which she might just get right.
45. Dinner with Father
If Bertie’s problem was with his mother, Irene – and that would seem to be the case – then Matthew’s problem was with his father, Gordon. Irene and Gordon would not have seen eye to eye on anything very much, but, in their own ways, they had each succeeded in bringing unhappiness into the lives of their offspring. So, while Bertie was trapped by a mother who was relentlessly ambitious for him, Matthew was aware that his father nursed no ambitions for him whatsoever. Gordon had decided that his son was a failure, and had come to accept this. The gallery in which he had set him up was not intended to be anything but a sinecure, a place to sit during the day while the rest of the world went to work. And if this was an expensive arrangement – for Gordon – then it was an expense which he could easily afford to bear.
Matthew had accepted his father’s offer simply because it was the only one on hand. He understood that he was not a good businessman, but one had to do something, and running the gallery had proved rather more interesting than he had anticipated. This interest had made up for the discomfort that he felt over his father’s writing him off. It is not easy to accept another’s low opinion of oneself, and there were times when Matthew longed to show his father that he was made of sterner and more successful stuff. The problem, though, was that if 148 Dinner with Father
he tried to do this, he thought it highly likely that he would fail.
Now Matthew was preparing for an evening with his father.
Gordon had called in at the gallery unannounced and invited his son to dinner to meet his new friend, Janis, who owned a flower shop. As he stood before the mirror and tied his tie, Matthew thought of what he might say to this woman, whose motives were, in his view, perfectly clear. It would be good to indicate to her that he understood exactly what was going on, and that no gold-digger could fool him. But how to do this?
One could not say anything direct, especially since the dinner was taking place at the New Club – where one could hardly speak directly about anything – and it would be necessary then to give a mere indication – to allow her to read between the lines. But would a woman like that – a “challenged blonde” as Matthew imagined her – be able to read between these lines?
Some such people had difficulty enough in reading the lines themselves, let alone what lay between them. “She’ll move her lips when she reads the menu,” Matthew thought, and smiled at himself in the mirror. Like this, he thought, and he mouthed the word money.
Matthew stared into the mirror at the tie he had chosen. It had linked red squares on a blue background. It was wrong. He reached for another one, a blue one with a slight jagged pattern in the background. These jagged lines looked vaguely like lightning, Matthew thought. That would be appropriate. If Janis looked at his tie she would receive a subliminal message: back off. Yes, he thought; that would be just the right note to strike.
He would be distant and cool, which would send to her exactly the message he wanted to convey: I know what you’re about; it doesn’t really matter to me, of course, but I know.
Satisfied with his appearance, he moved away from the mirror and fetched his coat from the hall. Matthew lived in India Street, in a flat bought for him by his father, and the walk up to Princes Street and the New Club would take no more than fifteen minutes. As he left the front door and made his way up the hill, he realised that it was not going to be easy to be distant and Dinner with Father
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cool. Indeed, he already felt hot and edgy. It was not going to be simple: this woman is taking my father away from me, he thought. It’s as simple as that. She’s taking him away from me
– and he’s mine.
He stopped at a corner and composed himself, telling himself that it did not mean that much to him. How often did he see his father? Less than once a month, and yet here he was persuading himself that he felt possessive. I shall be mature about this, he told himself. I shall see the whole thing in perspective.
Janis is a passing phase – an entertainment. She was no more than that. And as a passing phase she could be tolerated.
He arrived at the New Club, making his way up the sombre, cavernous staircase that led into the lobby. Everything was very quiet and measured – a world away from the bustle outside, and the chewing-gum-encrusted mess that had been made of Princes Street. As Matthew stood at the window of the drawing room, looking out across the dark of the gardens to the illuminated rock of the Castle, he thought for a moment of how his father would be feeling about this meeting. He would be feeling anxious, no doubt, because it was always awkward for a parent to introduce a lover to a child. It was all wrong. Parents did not have lovers as far as their children were concerned.
Matthew turned round. His father was approaching him from the doorway, walking round the imposing leather sofas that stood between his son and himself. They shook hands.
“Janis will be through in a moment,” said Gordon. He dabbed at his nose. “Powdering . . . you know.”
It was intended to be a moment of shared understanding between men, but it did not set Matthew at his ease. He did not smile.