Becoming Strangers (24 page)

'Oh sure—I guess I'm just all shook up by this thing. The violence. What if he'd killed her?'

Women were emotional, men were practical, he was glad that it was now quite acceptable to say as much.
They had both read
Men Are from Mars
... and found it very helpful. They'd bought it for each other's parents, last Christmas, as a joke, sort of. He should, and did, interpret what she said as an emotional reaction to the day's events. She was a sensitive person, not in a showy way; she was not artistic, just feminine.

'Come here,' he said, walking towards where she sat at the end of the bed. He put his arms round her and pulled her in to his chest. 'You know, Missy,' he said, sitting beside her, 'I would kill the man that ever came anywhere close to doing a thing like that to you. It's not going to happen, I won't let it. And I'm mad as hell that it happened here, on our vacation. Mad as hell that you have to go through this. This whole resort has been a serious disappointment. Next year we'll go to Dad's place in West Palm Beach.'

She didn't mind being a child. She raised sombre, serious eyes to him and said, 'We'll always have each other, won't we? Nothing can take you away from me. You'll always love me.'

He applied her face to his shoulder and looked over her at the half-eaten Snickers bar on top of the television. He ought to throw it in the trash.

G
EORGE CALLED
J
AN AT SEVEN
and asked to meet him for breakfast out by the pool. When Jan arrived, leaving Annemieke still sound asleep in the room, he saw that
George was dressed in long trousers and a checked shirt, as opposed to his normal great flapping shorts and colourful shirts. He was sitting in front of a full cup of tea, still, with his head towards the horizon.

'I don't much relish this,' he said when Jan had ordered some coffee to wake himself up with. 'I am a go-between this morning.' He pushed his cup of tea aside.

Jan inclined his head. 'You are?'

'Adam asked me to speak to you.'

'Oh.' The coffee was bitter; as it hit Jan's stomach it turned to bile. He had taken his regular amount of morphine and the pain in his lower back was diminishing, but for some reason his stomach was particularly sensitive today.

'Straight off the bat, I want to tell you this,' George leaned forward and took off his glasses. The paucity of colour around his eyes was shocking, it was as if two cups had been removed from a varnished surface, removing the top coat. 'I think what he done was wrong, no matter what his reasons were. A terrible thing and I no longer consider him a friend, in fact I'd rather have nothing more to do with him and I told him as much last night when he asked me to come to his place as a matter of urgency. I got Bill to give me a lift there, I had to take the missus with me or, well, you know. But I did not share my business with either of them. I said to Bill, straight like, can you do me a favour and ask no questions and he said he could.'

The coffee had done its worst, Jan's mouth was dry, already his tongue tasted like the back of a postage
stamp. He took a sip of his water. 'Please tell me what you have to tell me,' he said.

'I spoke with him, in private at seven p.m.,' said George, looking down as if reading from notes. 'He told me, and these are his words, son, that Mrs De Groot asked him to have sex with her and offered him one hundred and fifty dollars, American, to do so.'

George swallowed and took a deep breath. He replaced his glasses and looked at Jan. Jan said nothing.

'I know, mate, I know,' George said, now reaching for his tea and take a noisy sip. He emitted a cursory 'ah,' and went on. 'It don't make sense, none of it. But he says he never forced her. She was what they call a consenting party, he says.' George looked the other way.

Jan blanched.

'I didn't want to come and say this to you. I told him, it ain't right even if it is true. I've always been someone on the side of truth but is it right?' George shook his head, his eyes still averted.

'The truth is important,' said Jan.

'I don't know,' George continued.

'For you, I know that. For me also.'

George shook his head.

'I shall support my wife, George, no matter what happened.'

'That's right.'

Jan got up to go back to the room. 'It's ridiculous really, George, that everything seems to hang on this, for Annemieke and me, our family.'

'I'm sorry to bring this rubbish to you, Jan. I was
asked to and I did so. I'm on your side. What he done was wrong, even if what he says is true. I've a good mind to wring his neck myself for putting a decent man like yourself through this.' George was looking up at him with red eyes.

'No,' Jan protested, putting a hand on his shoulder, casting a shadow over him, 'no, my friend, don't get upset about it.'

D
OROTHY WAS WAITING FOR
G
EORGE
in the room. She had something she needed to tell him. She considered writing it down. Now that she had her mind on it she ought to write it and put it somewhere just in case. But she couldn't think where to put it. She wished he'd hurry back.

When she heard the door open she was all ready for him but he spoke first.

'Terrible mess all of this, dear, I don't mind telling you, I feel rotten, all broke up. To have to tell a man what I had to say to that Jan. Well, you wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy.'

So she forgot what she had been going to tell him but she told herself, well it can't have been that important if you've forgotten it, but this thought that used to give her comfort was now hollow like a lie and her heart felt as painful as if it had been raked, for it was
possible she had in fact forgotten something vital, something without which they couldn't survive, but in any case they set off for their customary walk on the beach.

They saw a lone swimmer, making his way with strong ample movements back to the shore, and as he approached them he waved.

'Who is it then, love?' George asked, squinting, he needed to have his glasses checked when he got home, his eyesight was worse.

'It's that Bill,' she said.

'Jolly good,' said George, patting her hand. They stood still. Bill came out of the water with uneasy steps, swaying as the tide was rough that morning.

'Now that takes it out of a fellow,' he said, panting. He leaned forward, his hands on his hips, to catch his breath. 'When are yous leaving?'

'Day after tomorrow, first thing.'

Bill nodded. 'I'm off tomorrow so I thought I ought to make the most of it. I'm going to Ireland to see some friends, maybe for a month or two. Given it will be almost summer it ought to be freezing cold.'

'That's what I miss though, a good nip in the air, a bite to it,' said George.

'Do you mind if we sit? I'm knackered.'

'We'll join you,' said George and the three of them made for a long piece of wood set further back on the beach. George helped Dorothy to a sitting position before lowering himself. The bough creaked and rolled
a little but all three of them managed to sit on it, tentatively at first, the men with their calf muscles taut, looking at the sea.

'It'll be nice for you to go home again,' said Dorothy. Bill leaned forward and smiled at her.

'It will.'

'Now home's what I call paradise. Not this. I like what I know,' said George, 'you can have too much of this sun and sea stuff. Good weather all the time, it gives you the pill. What I'm looking forward to is the wind, the rain. Always busy, the weather is at home; always against you, pushing you, nagging you. Like a wife—you might not like it but you need it. You don't get that cosy feeling of being in your own home, here, do you?'

They stared at the sea, churning itself on to the sand, a clean beach, managed by the resort, and a picture-perfect sky, with just a few little clouds like the manes of small white ponies at a canter.

'The family. Warmth, good food, clean beds. A cake coming out of the oven, maybe even a game of cards or Scrabble. Tea don't taste the same here. It's the water, and the milk. And the tea.

'What I like at night is the English silence, no bleeding crickets, just the noise of the house creaking a bit until the morning and then you can hear the outside, all a-twitter.'

'I can always hear our old Robin Redbreast, can't I, George? I can pick him out when we're still in bed having our first cup.'

'Yes, you've got good hearing, duck.'

'I like to listen out for the birds. Hear their news/ Dorothy smiled.

'I've always been an early riser,' George went on. 'See, really I like to rise about five, creep downstairs in the quiet, with the new day all for me. I sit with a mug of tea at the front window, waiting for it all to start. There's your paradise, right there. You know you've got it right. Family, work, you've provided, done the decent thing, you can see it like that when you get up early.'

'Oh yes,' Dorothy agreed, 'that's the main thing.'

'Well, for me, the main thing is good company,' said Bill. 'It used to be that it was Jerry and me with the papers, busy, as though it were our world, reading about this and that in America or Europe. Precious time. Though I didn't know it then.'

They were quiet, sat on the Caribbean beach, each thinking of their departures.

'It's been nice to have someone to talk to. I shall miss you and Jan,' said George.

Bill looked at him. 'So will I,' he said.

'And the ladies,' George added.

'We shan't miss that Annemieke, though,' said Dorothy, making a face.

George raised his eyebrows and muttered, 'Big mouth.'

'She's a handful,' Bill laughed.

'Wicked is the word.' Dorothy went on, 'I'll speak as I find. Her husband on his last legs and her putting it about,' she looked briefly unsure of her terminology but went on. 'Why couldn't she wait?'

Bill flushed. 'Whats been going on then?' he asked.

George sighed. 'It's not really for us to say. But seeing's the wife's gone and spilt most of the beans.' He altered the position of his legs. 'Mrs De Groot has accused Adam of raping her. He says, on the other hand, that she wanted to pay him for sex. The upshot is that Jan has to consider whether to press charges or not and so far he hasn't said he will. Adam asked me to put his story to Jan this morning and so I did, against my will I should tell you.'

'God save us,' said Bill.

Dorothy nodded with a serene smile on her face, crossing her legs at the ankle.

'What's the poor man to do?' George asked, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt.

'So what's the truth of it?' Bill asked. George shrugged.

'She's a sly one,' Dorothy said, 'a fox.'

'I don't know,' said George, 'I barely know the lady. Usually the rules are that you take the lady's word, don't you? Jan wouldn't say to me what he knew, if anything. He said he'd stand by his wife, of course.'

'But Adam? He might be a bit of a boozer, but he seems like a decent young man...'

'Well, he doesn't deny having sex with her and that gets my goat, fancy doing that to Jan,' said George. 'I said to him last night, I said, What was you thinking of? Was you thinking at all? He says he needed the money. I'm through with the lad, I tell you.' George coloured
quickly and wiped his glasses again, looking down at his shirttails. His lower face seemed to have slipped inches.

Bill said nothing.

'What do you think? You're the Christian. What's the right thing to do?'

'Ach, Christians are the worst for knowing what to do,' Bill said.

'I suppose so, but you know your Bible, don't you?'

'Somewhat,' said Bill.

'Well, you must do, better than me anyway. What's the right thing?'

'Och, Jesus, man, I'm out of my depth here,' said Bill, rising, 'out of my depth. I'd better go and get myself some clothes on. I'll see you both later. Have a nice morning, now.'

The two old people sat watching Bill go, with lurching footsteps on account of the deep sand at the rear of the beach. Making it to the concrete steps, he hauled himself up, step by step, until he gathered a towel from the stand at the top, wrapped it around his waist and made off.

'He got a bit shirty, didn't he?' mused George. 'Do you think he was upset with me?'

'Mmm,' murmured Dorothy, then she emitted a sudden little cry and turned to him. He looked at her, alarmed.

'All right?'

'I've just remembered what I've been meaning to say to you,' Dorothy said, reaching for his hand. 'George? I
know somethings wrong with me, George, and you know it is, don't you?'

George frowned, 'Don't let's talk about that now, leave it till we get home.'

'I'd rather talk about it while I can, George, I might forget it otherwise. I wanted to explain a bit.' He relented and nodded, looking her in the eyes now.

'You see, it's like I go in and out of the dark, George, I can't think straight, I can't remember things. I can feel a sort of silence closing in on me, like I'm going deaf. You know how when you're a kid you begin by picking out letters gradually and then you can read signs, then words and sentences. Well, it's like doing that backwards. It's like tidying up, or putting your money back in your purse, coin by coin, only thing is it seems like you can't choose what you're done with. I feel like I'm cramming the big notes back in, too quick...'

He squeezed her hand. 'I know, dear, I'm going to get the doctor to give you something for it when we get home.'

'I don't think that'll help much, George. I say to myself, I'm a bit scared but I'll be all right. I've had a good life...'

George squeezed her hand harder, 'No, no, don't start with that stuff, Dorothy, I can't stomach it.'

'It doesn't hurt, George, it's quite nice in a way, the darkness. I don't mind it. It feels like a bit of a rest.'

'Well, you must mind it, you must pull yourself together.'

She was quiet; she looked out at the sea.

'It's a lovely view. We shan't see anything like this again.'

'No.'

'It's you I worry about.'

'Well, concentrate on yourself, will you? You're the one that worries me.'