Conrad & Eleanor (24 page)

The grin was so big and the implications packed into the two syllables so vast that Con couldn't reply, only nod his head quickly and smile and, like a kid, swallow down the great lump in his throat. Then they both had to laugh at the weight of questions and answers spawned by their meeting like this.

Max's car was as big as a tennis court and shell-pink. He shrugged as he swung Con's case into the trunk. ‘If you're going to live among the gas-guzzlers you have to keep your end up.'

The sun was still bright although it was nearly 7pm, and the remains of what must have been a hot day lay around them as they headed into the city: the babble of car stereos through open windows, the baked smell of the blacktop, as he was instructed to call it, bronzed bare arms resting on wound-down windows, as relaxed drivers steered single-handed; and when they came off the expressway, a girl in a red halter neck waiting obediently for a pedestrian crossing signal. Max pulled up and they watched her hesitate then cross in front of them. The lights caught up and changed to red as Max accelerated away. ‘Food?' he said. ‘Drink? Drink then food?'

‘I've been eating and drinking for the last eight hours.'

‘In-flight crap. You can have something good now. Vietnamese? Thai?'

Con glanced at his watch. It was midnight UK time. Max caught the movement.

‘You gotta stay up. Then you'll sleep through.'

‘Till when?'

‘Till late. We'll get a drink. Something to eat. Go to a couple of bars,' he wiggled his eyebrows at Con, ‘pick up some girls.'

‘Yeah yeah. I have to phone home.'

‘They'll be asleep. Do it just before you go to bed.'

Con imagined 6am and Eleanor snuggled in bed with Dan curled beside her.

‘I didn't think you'd make it,' said Max.

‘Why?'

‘All that domestic bliss. How is your lovely wife?'

‘OK.'

‘And the tribe of offspring?'

‘Thriving.'

‘She doesn't mind you coming?'

‘She pushed me out of the house.'

‘OK, so you're going to have a good time. A bachelor life again.'

‘I hated being a bachelor.'

Max tutted and shook his head.

So began six months of homesickness, ill-defined anxiety and sleepless nights. He rarely phoned home because the time difference was so awkward, and there was always such a mob of them at the other end wanting to talk that the conversation often revolved around the unfairness of how long the previous speaker had taken. If he phoned late afternoon on the weekend, the kids would be in bed and he stood a chance of getting El on her own, but Max was determined to show him the country, and weekends were often turned into excursions in which long-­distance phone calls had no place. He resorted to airmail letters – long, regular, detailed ones for El, and amusing roundings-up of where he had been and what he had seen, enclosing postcards, for the kids. What came in reply was pretty thin: hastily scrawled aerogrammes from El, occasionally a longer letter with a page from Paul or Megan enclosed. Once he received a delicious fat envelope from the four of them, with drawings from Dan and Cara, and letters from Paul and Megan.

When Conrad came home, Eleanor drove to meet him at the airport. He had thought she might bring the children but then of course they would all have been hanging round if the flight was delayed. Also, El said Cara wasn't very well, claiming to have one of her headaches again. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong, but while she was droopy like that it was best to keep her in.

‘Have you had her eyes tested?'

‘Yes, Conrad.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Well, it is the obvious thing to do. How tired are you? I told Greta we'd be back later, I thought it would be nice to have you to myself for a little while before the mob descends.' She grinned at him. He felt almost overwhelmed by her physical presence. Her thick black hair was stylishly cut, shorter than he'd seen it before, tapering into the nape of her neck in a wedge that made him think of the cropped stems of cut corn. He couldn't imagine touching it.

He almost started to tell her how much more he'd enjoy a drink together after he'd said hello to the kids, how the thread of anxiety over them which had spun from his entrails when he flew away was now stretched so taut he could hardly move, but he was aware that she would think him mad. And be, quite rightly, offended. He creased his stiff face into a smile. She seemed bigger and more vivid than he remembered, her cheeks pinker, her lips redder, her breasts under her shirt voluptuously swollen. He was simultaneously attracted and repelled by her; it was astonishing that this glossy female was his wife.

‘You look tired,' she said.

‘I've not been sleeping very well. Excited about coming home, I guess.'

‘You have a slight twang, you know. A very slight American flavour.'

‘Really?' It seemed to him he'd hardly spoken to anyone but Max.

El pulled in at a big featureless pub on the main road back from the airport. It was almost empty and had a canteen-like foody smell. He expected her to wrinkle her nose and reject it but she didn't, and he was glad because the sooner they did the drink the sooner they could get home. There was the obligatory plastic Christmas tree in the corner (ten days to go!) and he remembered with satisfaction the presents he'd tracked down for them. Cara's in particular was brilliant: a pop-up tent she'd be able to use in the garden. They settled in a corner with their beers.

‘So how was it? Overall?' she asked.

‘Very strange, being away from you and the kids for that length of time. I wouldn't do it again. And Max – I couldn't live like Max.'

‘You couldn't drink a vat of alcohol and pick up a new girl every night? He must have been very disappointed in you.'

‘And you, overall? You didn't miss me?'

‘There hasn't been a lot of time. Between the book and the kids and the work things I really couldn't wriggle out of, I've had more to fill my time than you.'

‘You're looking good on it. You're looking amazing!'

She smiled. ‘There's interesting work stuff. Lots I want to tell you about. You know the MRC grant I applied for last week?'

‘Tell me about the kids first.'

‘You'll see for yourself. They've grown.'

A silence. He shouldn't have stopped her talking about work.

‘They're still getting on OK with the new au pair?'

‘Greta's fine. The other one – Catherine – did I tell you about the week I asked her to leave?'

‘You told me she was scatty.'

‘She was late for Megan and Cara. Not just once, repeatedly. They came home on their own a couple of times.'

‘Over the main road?'

El nodded. ‘I gave her a warning and she ran out in tears. Then Paul said she'd been coming into his room.'

‘When?'

Eleanor grimaced. ‘Evenings. When I was out.'

‘Doing what exactly?'

She frowned.

‘Not you – her.'

‘I don't know. Paul started backtracking as fast as he could. Nothing, he said. Just knocking on his door and asking him things.'

‘What sort of things?'

‘Meanings of words. If he wanted to watch telly with her. Nothing important, he said.'

‘You think there was more to it?'

‘How can we tell? I mean he's thirteen and she's nineteen. If she made some kind of sexual advance to him he's not going to want to tell us. The only practical thing to do is get the damn girl out of the house.'

‘Why didn't you tell me? How long had it been going on?'

She shrugged. ‘I didn't want to make a big thing of it. I told him I was sacking her for being late for school. But then when she left she took stuff.'

‘What?'

‘My silver chain. And Megan's birthday money.'

‘For God's sake.'

‘What can you do? I suppose we've been lucky so far, we were bound to get one bad 'un.'

‘Did you tell the police?'

‘No, I told the agency and they've taken her off their books. I wrote to her parents asking if they could return the necklace, but there was no reply.'

‘And is Paul OK? You don't think he's been affected?'

‘How can anyone tell? He's a sulky hormonal teenager. I don't suppose she's damaged him irreparably but he's hardly at his best anyway.'

‘Did you replace Megan's money?'

El rolled her eyes.

‘Sorry. D'you want another drink?'

She held out her glass and his heart sank. Even as they sat here the unknown Greta might be opening Paul's door, or Megan's – might be initiating any one or all four into some dark revolting rite. Why did they have to leave their children with strangers? Why was it not possible to tell El he wanted to go home? Because then she'd know he'd rather see the kids than her? Or because it would offend his own notion of himself, proving him to be an overprotective parent rather than a free spirit happily reunited with the woman he loved?

He took the drinks back to the table. This time would pass. Like the deserts and continents of time he had traversed in the States, heading with the idiot persistence of an insect for his distant home.

‘Is Dan's bedwetting sorted?'

‘It's still rather hit and miss. So, what was the best bit?'

‘The Falls and New York were the highlights, like I told you. I was thinking we could have a great holiday there with the kids one summer, that eastern seaboard is a good mix – beaches, old whaling ports, swimming and history. We could rent a car —'

She nodded. ‘Well, I've been invited to a conference in Texas in June, we could start there and —'

‘They don't break up till July.'

‘We could take them out of school for a couple of weeks.'

‘It's not fair to take Paul out at this stage. And given they have six weeks off anyway, why break into school time?'

Eleanor shrugged. ‘Shall we go?' She drained her drink abruptly.

It annoyed him, to go like this after he had put in the time in the pub. They got into the car in silence and he debated with himself whether to put his hand on her knee. She might just brush it off. But it might make her smile. He put it there and she ignored it so he slid it slowly up and between her thighs. She glanced at him and he grinned, and she smiled back.

‘You'll have to wait till tonight now.'

‘What d'you mean, “now”? Were you suggesting a quick shag under the table at the pub?'

‘They had rooms.'

‘Rooms?'

‘There was a big sign in the car park. Rooms £30.'

‘But we're going
home
.'

‘Like I said, it'll have to wait.'

‘Why didn't you say something?'

‘It was just a thought.'

‘But I'm not a mind reader.'

‘If it wasn't in your head it doesn't matter.'

‘That's not fair!'

‘It's OK.' She laughed. ‘Forget it.'

When they arrived at the house Daniel and Cara ran out clamouring to the car.

‘Oh, we're better now, are we?' Eleanor remarked to Cara, who fixed herself, limpet-like, to Con's back.

‘Leave her be,' he said before he could stop himself, and El walked away into the house.

Six-year-old Cara was heavy and he had to make her drop off before he could get his bags out. Hugging her he noticed that her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She didn't look well. Dan on the other hand was inches taller, chubbier and more solid, bellowing his welcome. The baby, now all of four years old. Megan appeared on the doorstep and came running down to hug him too. The relief of seeing them was so intense he had to lean against the car to get his balance. ‘Where's Paul?'

‘At Steve's. He's always at Steve's.'

Con was momentarily hurt by his older son's absence, then ridiculed himself. Here they all were, here were three warm solid perfect children welcoming him and Paul would soon be home too. And Eleanor, who had come to meet him with lascivious thoughts and with whom he had failed to click. He must make things right with Eleanor.

Paul, when he returned for tea, had changed more than any of the others. It was as if the bones in his face had shifted under the skin; he had the protuberant, knobbly face of a youth now, his childhood was left behind. He blushed and nodded when he saw Con, backing away from physical contact. Con felt a sudden piercing sympathy, remembering the excruciating embarrassment of walking across the quad in his first year at King's, feeling rows of eyes watching him from the first-floor windows. How many years of embarrassment must the poor boy endure, now he had entered that zone?

Cara was clingy, and in the middle of the meal she burst into tears because she wasn't allowed to sit on Con's knee. When Eleanor's thin patience snapped and she sent Cara to her room, it was all Con could do not to run after the wailing child. They continued their meal without her, Megan glowing with older-sister self-righteousness and Eleanor responding monosyllabically to Con's bright questions about her book. Greta the au pair ate silently with downcast eyes and disappeared to her room as soon as they were done. Only Paul, sealed into his bubble of adolescent angst, and Dan picking carefully at the acceptable parts of his meal, seemed unaffected.

Con bathed Dan and read him a story, then went to see Cara, who was lying under her duvet fully dressed, sucking her thumb and hiccupping. He made her wash and get into her nightie, then sat on her bed stroking her hair rhythmically until she dropped to sleep. He could have fallen asleep himself, but there was still Megan and Paul and Eleanor to go. The sound of the TV drew him into the sitting room, where Paul sat in silence and Megan giggled over a comedy programme he'd never heard of. He sat with them till it ended, cuddling Megan, then went to look for El. She wasn't in the kitchen so she must be in her study. He poured them a glass of wine each and carried hers in to her. She was on the computer, her fingers swift and methodical on the keyboard. He watched her save before she turned to him.