Frozen Music (51 page)

Linus appeared to have a fondness, shared by many of his countrymen, for what they thought of as English Style. Lincoln's was a restaurant so ancient in tradition you half expected to pay the bill in shillings and pounds.

‘Bertil told me about this place,' Linus said. ‘He used to eat at Lincoln's whenever he was in London. The first time was in nineteen forty-nine, would you believe it?'

I looked around at the other diners, men mostly, plump and florid; a gathering of elderly Billy Bunters. I nodded towards one of them, sitting on his own at a tiny table in a corner below a still-life painting of dead game, silently tucking into a large plate of oysters, his napkin pulled up under his chin. ‘Do you think he stayed on, since forty-nine, I mean?'

We ordered: crab salad for both of us to start with, then grilled Dover sole for Linus and scallops for me. Linus relayed his conversation with Stuart Lloyd. ‘I felt a little like Faust must have done when he signed away his soul.' He gave me a wry little smile across the restaurant table.

I put my hand on his, just for a second. ‘I'm glad for you, I really am. And I am your… friend, but no one needs friends with feet of clay. You're the architect, you know better than anyone what happens to constructions built on clay.' As I spoke I hoped I was right in thinking that sooner or later they cracked.

‘Actually,' Linus said, ‘they sometimes last for a surprisingly long time.'

Did he have to make things even more awkward? ‘Well, as I said, you're the architect.' Then our first course arrived.

‘How's your mother?' Linus asked.

‘Audrey?'

‘That's the one.'

‘Fine. So how is everyone your end? I spoke to Olivia last week and she sounded OK, not great, but OK.'

‘That's just it, they're both OK, but only just. I'm afraid I gave Bertil a very hard time after I'd read the diary. And I did resent half the world knowing its contents before I did.' I blushed and looked away. ‘Don't worry,' he said quickly. ‘I know you were in a difficult position. Anyway, Bertil is fine now, physically, but emotionally?' He shook his head. ‘I don't know. We all went out to the island last weekend, Olivia and Bertil, Kerstin and Gerald and me and Ivar. It was as if nothing had happened, that's how it seemed to begin with, anyway. We just closed over the wound and went on as before, but of course things have changed irrevocably. For Bertil and Olivia; all those years of thinking we were all one big happy family while all the time we were actually nurturing this particular serpent at its very bosom.'

I found it hard to picture Ulla nursing at anyone's bosom, but I let that pass. ‘I still find the whole thing a bit unreal,' I said instead. ‘It's modern manners to view the dark in life, not as a tragic but integral part of living, but more like a breach of contract, of our rights. I can see the scenes at the pearly gates, all those people lining up for compensation.'

Linus smiled at me and put his hand over mine. I had left it there, lying nonchalantly on the white table cloth, waiting for just
such a gesture from him, and as I felt the warmth of his skin against mine little starbursts of excitement shot through my stomach and up to my chest. We sat like that, facing each other over the restaurant table, the one candle and the four glasses, the plates and the crumbs and the large red wine stain next to my glass. The moment seemed an eternity, but it was still too short. Then he retrieved his hand, leaving mine in mourning. ‘I really wish I could make you understand.'

I gazed into his eyes. ‘Mmm,' I said. He looked nonplussed. What had he said? Was my response adequate? I checked my face mentally; had it forgotten to put its knickers on? Was it baring all?

Linus looked sad as he lifted his glass to his lips. I too felt sad. It seemed that doom and gloom was what we did best. But what the hell? Anything that we had in common was fine with me.

‘How's Pernilla?' I had to enquire rather in the way you'd feel the need to ask the doctor if it was six days or six months he'd said you had left to live.

‘She's fine.' What was that in his voice? A distinct lack of interest, that's what it was if I was not mistaken. Dear God, don't let me be mistaken. ‘I haven't really seen her since the summer. You know how it is. We're both busy. She's in Stockholm. I'm, well, I'm all over the place.' He shrugged.

Had I mentioned doom and gloom? Absolutely not. I was the girl with a song in her heart and fireworks going off in the pit of her stomach. ‘Oh, I'm sorry,' Esther Insincerity Fisher replied.

‘It's nothing to be sorry about.'

I glittered. I twinkled. Just let them ask me to be the Good Tooth Fairy now.

The waiter appeared soundlessly and poured us some more wine. When he left us Linus spoke, and all of a sudden his voice was intense and his jaw was set tight as if he had a problem keeping it under control. ‘Have you any idea what it feels like, knowing that your own mother ended her life in such misery, such absolute despair and loneliness, and that you were too young, too dumb to do a thing to help her?'

I sobered up, like a fairy who's had all her sparkly bits washed off. ‘Please, Linus, don't do this to yourself. You can't think like that. No six-year-old would have the kind of wisdom and maturity to help in such circumstances, you know that. Just think of Ivar. Bright as he is, what could he do in a similar situation?'

He relaxed a little. ‘I know. It's a totally illogical feeling, but I feel it nevertheless. That and this… this anger. With her, too.' He looked at me with unhappy eyes. His mother's eyes? They certainly weren't a bit like Bertil's cool pale-blue ones.

‘How could she choose to die, to leave me like that, for ever, with no road back? Why couldn't I make her stay? I was her son. Wasn't I enough? Did I mean so little? What's
wrong
with me, Esther, that I'm never enough?'

‘That's not how it is. That's not how it is at all.' I looked into his eyes, willing him to see all the love in mine. But I couldn't give him a satisfactory answer. All the tender feelings in the world were jostling for space in my mind. I ached with love and pity for him, but I sat there silent. Like a dog that had been sent off to its basket one too many times, my emotions refused to come out to play. All I could do was be practical while my heart wept all the tears my eyes couldn't manage. ‘But you read the diary,' I said at last. ‘It was because she loved you so much that she couldn't bear to live without you.'

Linus shook his head. ‘She didn't have the courage for battle. She kept writing, over and over, how much she loved me, but when it came down to it the love wasn't enough to make her fight on. But she must have known that things would change once I got older. No, the truth I have to face is that I wasn't enough. And why should I have been?'

‘I think you've got that wrong,' I said. I put my hand out towards him and he laughed. The silly, high-pitched laugh made the other diners turn round in their seats to see where the offending sound came from. Normally, while dying quietly of embarrassment, I would have made sure that everyone knew that the noise did not come from me. But not now, not with him. Instead, I just sat there, looking at him as pleased as a mother whose first-born had just burped. God, how I must I love that man!

‘So how is Ulla?' I asked when it was quiet again.

‘Oh she's fine, busy knitting straitjackets, getting treatment. There's no question of her going to prison. I've been to see her in hospital. She is a bit mad, there's no doubt about it. At the same time I can understand where she's coming from. She's had so little in her life. No lover, or husband, or children. She cared genuinely for my mother, but she lost her. I hadn't realised, I hadn't bothered to realise how hard things were for her. She was always just there, my silly old not-quite-aunt Ulla. Every family has one. And they have their uses. They unite the rest of the relatives by their sheer awfulness. They make us feel blessed in comparison, superior. And we feel good about “having her”. But those short weeks every summer were her life and now even those were going to be taken away from her. She felt absolutely powerless.'

‘Like the Wilsons. Now do you see what I've been on about?' I didn't mean to say it and as soon as the words escaped my mouth I wanted to shove them back in like spat-out crumbs. But it was too late, they were there, in the air between us, doing their damnedest.

Linus sat back in his chair. When he looked at me it was with a stranger's eyes, all warmth and intimacy gone. ‘You don't give up, do you?' He signalled the waiter for the bill. Then he turned back to me. ‘I really don't need this. Not now and not from you.' He signed the credit-card slip, drained his glass and stood up. ‘Shall we go?'

My mind said yes and gave the order to my legs. They refused.
Come on, guys
, my mind pleaded.
We're talking dignity here
. My legs replied,
Fuck dignity
and remained under the table. Linus looked at me, eyebrows raised.

‘I don't want to go,' I said rather quietly.

‘What?'

‘I don't want to go,' I said, a little bit louder now.

‘What do you mean, you don't want to go?' All around us the other diners abandoned their own conversations for the promise of a public spectacle.

‘What do you think I mean?' I whispered.

‘Will you speak up, I can't hear a word.'

‘
What the hell do you think I mean?
' I yelled.

‘Will you stop screaming,' Linus snapped. ‘I'll be waiting outside.'

‘Don't bother,' I called after him. Then I turned round and glared at as many people as I could. It was embarrassing to sit there, but it was better than running after him. Who did he think he was? Men! Bastards! I should have known! They're all the same: vain, touchy, controlling, unable to take criticism. Bastards!

After five minutes or so Linus strode back into the restaurant. ‘Are you coming or not? I've got an early appointment tomorrow morning so I'm not going to hang around waiting for you all night.'

‘I'm very happy here, thank you. You go off and get your beauty sleep. It must be hard work wrecking people's lives.'

Now I probably shouldn't have said that. Linus just stood there looking at me and suddenly my anger disappeared and I felt scared. I had gone too far. I could see it in his eyes. But I didn't have a chance to say sorry. He turned on his heel and was off. I sat there, forcing myself to finish my pudding, as if I wanted to be on my own. I sipped my wine. I sipped my water. I ate some more
crème brûlée
, making myself feel quite sick. Finally I stood up and walked out of the restaurant, forcing myself not to hurry.

‘Enjoyed your meal, madam?' the waiter asked as I passed.

‘Immeasurably,' I said.

The scale model of the opera house had arrived in a sea container that morning. Stuart Lloyd had just said, ‘Wow!' Now he said it again: ‘Wow!'

‘So you like it,' Linus asked unnecessarily. His cheeks still turned pink when he was pleased or excited, damn it.

Stuart Lloyd took a step towards him and shook his hand. He said, ‘And no more worries now about this business with the Wilsons?'

Linus pulled a face and shrugged. ‘I can't say it doesn't still concern me. In fact, what should have been a really good evening last night, with Esther Fisher, turned into an embarrassing nightmare.'

‘Oh yes, your little friend in the enemy camp? I must say I've had a gutful of her and all her ilk.'

To his surprise, Linus found himself defending her. ‘It's not as simple as that,' he said. ‘She really believes that what is happening to the Wilsons is wrong and that matters more to her than her relationship with me. I have to respect her for that.'

Stuart Lloyd looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Do you? Anyway, she doesn't sound a very comfortable person to be with.'

Linus smiled. ‘Oh, she can be, surprisingly so. And I don't think this is easy for her. She had some sort of breakdown earlier in the year. All to do with the consequences of doing her job, trusting her instincts and getting it wrong, that kind of thing. In the end she wasn't sure of anything. She didn't dare to make any kind of statement. She even lost her job at one point.'

‘How lucky that she recovered just in time to bugger us up. Anyway, we've won. The People's Glyndebourne is happening and that's what matters.' He nodded towards the model. ‘That's going to win awards.'

Linus grinned at him. ‘Might do. And you have no problems with anything so far? You don't think it's too costly, or that this or that material is wrong, or that you would after all prefer something with a few Palladian columns or a gargoyle or two?'

‘A gargoyle is always nice, but no.' Stuart Lloyd shook his head. ‘No. I told you before, I aim to give you a free hand. By the way, you're happy with Pelling & Son?'

‘The builders. Yup. They seem extremely on the ball.'

‘You've got a site meeting when?'

‘Friday. Oh, and I've found a marvellous guy to do the glass engraving on the north window.' They submerged themselves in the details of the work ahead and Linus felt the kind of excitement he knew other people had to go to drugs or sex to find. This was what being alive was all about. It was what he had been put on this earth to do, to build.

So, I had finally proved to myself beyond a doubt that I was to romantic love what Attila the Hun was to world peace.

I was visiting Audrey and trying hard to pretend that I was on top of the world. She certainly was. Her thigh was out of plaster and she had put on some weight. To look at her, so comfortable against the mountain of pillows in her large bed, it was hard to believe that she had ever left to go on that ill-fated trip.

My lips brushed her cheek and as I straightened up she said, ‘You look awful.' I thanked her. She peered at me. ‘What's wrong?'