Holding On (49 page)

‘No point in discussing anything important while I'm driving,' he said. ‘We'll wait till we get home. Any other news?'

As the car fled through Harbertonford and turned left at Halwell on to the Dartmouth road they conversed as if they were strangers. Never had a journey seemed so long. Anxious though she'd been at the thought of his return, Fliss was almost relieved when they finally arrived home. She switched the kettle on ready to make some tea whilst he parked the car and presently she heard him close the front door. She made the tea with trembling hands and was suddenly aware that he had come in silently behind her. The thick strokes of her heart beat made speech almost impossible but she managed a smile as she turned to look at him.

‘I thought you'd like some tea,' she said, and continued to look at him smilingly despite the lack of expression in his face.

‘Why not?' He shrugged. ‘Bring the tray through to the living room.'

She was glad that he had not chosen the drawing room for this confrontation. Somehow the drawing room had remained very much Miles's territory. At least here she took some measure of comfort from the things around her. As she set the tray down her glance alighted on the ginger jar and she felt another pang of uncertainty. The jar had become a symbol of love and friendship, its jagged crack reminding her how easily both these gifts could be damaged. The jar might be carefully repaired but it would never be as strong and this principle applied to relationships. Once trust was smashed could it ever be replaced? Feeling her resolutions wavering she poured the tea, handed him a mug – and waited. He took a sip and then raised his eyebrows.

‘Well?'

Afterwards, Fliss believed that it was this ‘Well?' uttered in a tone which blended impatience with a tinge of tolerance that swung her emotions back into focus and enabled her to retake possession of her own life. The vision of an uncertain Miles who might need her support faded and she squared her shoulders. For a brief moment she fought down the desire to meet him with matched weapons, no holds barred, but for some reason a vision of Uncle Theo slid into her mind and she found herself attempting to approach him calmly.

‘I've thought it all over very carefully,' she told him nervously. ‘Please don't think that I've taken this decision lightly . . .'

‘But,' he prompted as she hesitated. ‘That sort of statement most certainly has a “but” attached.'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘You're right, it does . . .
But
I'm still not coming to Hong Kong.'

She swallowed, turning to take a sip of tea, wishing that her hands would stop trembling, and he watched her consideringly, wondering how to deal with this reaction. As soon as he'd seen her he'd known that she hadn't changed her mind. His waiting tactic had been an attempt to unsettle her, to force the strength of his personality upon her in the hope that she might weaken. He'd imagined that once she was alone she might think carefully about what her future might be without him and be ready to admit that she couldn't cope. Yet suddenly, as though a veil had been gently removed, he saw the square set of her shoulders, the lift of the chin as she turned to look at him, the steady, level gaze, and his hold on the future suddenly felt infirm and his confidence was momentarily shaken.

‘I love you,' he said, surprising them both, and saw the tiny frown appear between her brows. A stab of exultation pierced his heart.

He thought: I've got her. I'm playing this all wrong. I'm a damned fool . . .

‘I do love you, Fliss,' he repeated rapidly. ‘But surely you know that after all these years? I've only wanted to protect you, you know, to look after you. Is that so wrong? I only ever wanted you . . .'

She was looking quite desperate now and he knew quite surely that her defences were crumbling. It was important that he should breach them; important for both of them and for the children. This was his wife and he was determined that she should remain so.

‘Oh, Miles,' she said sadly. ‘I love you, too.'

‘Well, then,' he said, his confidence returning. ‘What's the problem? Surely that's all that matters? I love you more than anything.'

‘Do you?' she asked with an odd intentness. ‘Do you truly?'

He felt a rush of triumph. This had been the problem then. She simply needed to be reassured. Perhaps he had been too enthusiastic about the job, taken too much for granted. Well, he was quite prepared to make amends, to do what was necessary to soothe her hurt pride and put things right. Relief made him expansive.

‘Of course I do,' he said tenderly, stretching out his hands to her. ‘Silly girl. I love you more than anything in the world.'

‘Do you?' She still held on to her mug, ignoring his hands. ‘Are you sure, Miles? More than the job in Hong Kong, for instance?'

His expression changed so quickly that it was almost ludicrous but Fliss felt no desire to smile. She waited. His hands fell to his sides and he stared at her grimly.

‘Are we really going to play stupid games?' he asked harshly.

‘No,' she said. ‘No, truly we aren't. I'm sorry, Miles, but you do see what I'm getting at. We love each other but not quite enough it seems. You don't love me quite enough to be prepared to stay here and I don't love you quite enough to leave England permanently.'

‘Is this some kind of blackmail?'

‘Of course not.' She tried to smile at him. ‘I just want us to be able to be honest with each other. At this moment, that's where we both stand.'

‘So what then? I have no intention of putting this job in jeopardy, you know.'

‘You've made that very clear.' She put her mug back on the tray, folding her arms across her breast. ‘I have a kind of compromise to suggest, if you're prepared to listen.'

There was a silence. Fliss watched him, praying that he would co-operate, willing him to be understanding. He set his mug beside hers on the tray and sat down in one of the cord hammock chairs, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, hands thrust down into his trouser pockets.

‘Very well,' he said. ‘Go ahead. Let's hear this compromise.'

She could feel that his mind was shut against her, that he required nothing less than an absolute agreement, but she was determined to try to break down his resistance to her.

‘My idea,' she began carefully, ‘is that we should each have a kind of trial period. A sort of sabbatical. We've been very lucky that you haven't spent long periods at sea, although we've moved about a great deal. I know that you did your sea time before we met but it means that we've been together for most of the time we've been married. What I'm suggesting now is a separation of, say, two years. Not
that
long in naval terms, really. It will give us both time to sort out our feelings. I might find that I don't want to be here without you or you might discover that the job doesn't suit you— Wait.' She held up her hand as he made a gesture which indicated disbelief at such a ridiculous idea. ‘I know how excited you are about it, Miles, and I can see that it's a great opportunity but there's a faint possibility that it might not be as good as you hope. That might be a negative approach but at least it's a realistic one. I, on the other hand, might well find that living in Devon with the twinnies and my family close at hand is no substitute for being with you in Hong Kong. Neither of us can absolutely say that these scenarios are not possibilities. I think that we should approach it like that. It might not take as long as two years but I think that a limit should be set.'

She fell silent, thinking again of Uncle Theo and their talk in his study. After he'd poured them each a Scotch, he'd hesitated whilst she took a sip.

‘I think that I should make one thing quite clear,' he'd said. ‘What I have suggested is not to be misinterpreted as some kind of an easy option. It's not an opportunity to simply postpone the rupture to a point in time when it will probably be less painful for both of you. During those two years you should both behave as if you are absolutely committed to each other. You should still be working at it even at so great a distance. Forgive me for underlining this but I shouldn't want you to misunderstand me. If you decide to take my advice I should like to be sure that you are under no misapprehension as to exactly what I'm suggesting.'

Now, as Miles sat watching her, Fliss felt that it was important that he, too, should understand this.

‘Look,' she said urgently. ‘This isn't some kind of brush-off, Miles. I'm not going to send you a Dear John letter once you're safely in Hong Kong. This is a genuine attempt to make our marriage go on working despite the fact that we both feel unable to give in to each other at present. I promise you that there are no traps or deceptions.'

‘No, I see that.' His tone was mild but cool. ‘I shall need time to think about it, of course.' He laughed abruptly at her puzzled look. ‘Did you imagine that I would agree at once? Why should I? I might not care to start a new life with such conditions attached.' He shrugged. ‘It has its merits, I suppose, given that your whole attitude is so absurd, but I shall want to think it over. So . . .' He hesitated for a moment. ‘It's only fair to tell you that whether you come or not I intend to sell this house. Naturally there will be a home for you and the twins wherever I am but I can't afford to run two establishments, I'm afraid. This
isn't
the Navy, you see. I shan't be living on a ship or in a base, subsidised by a grateful government. Just a tiny point but I have to make it.'

He saw that she was not going to rise to this proffered bait. He'd wondered whether the thought of not having her own place might panic her but he knew it was a vain hope. The wretched Chadwicks at The Keep would welcome her back with open arms . . .

‘I accept that,' she was saying quietly. ‘My proposal was, I admit, made on the supposition that you would continue to support us.'

‘I'm sure it was,' he burst out angrily. ‘But can you give me a good reason as to why I should? You're my wife. Your place is with me wherever that might be. I've found a good job which offers us a very satisfactory level of living and you have no right to offer me terms and conditions when you decide to refuse to accompany me.'

‘Very well.' She turned to look at him and, once again, he was struck by her likeness to her grandmother. ‘That's quite fair. I have my allowance from the family and if I can find a teaching post I should be able to support myself and the twinnies but I'm not sure that I could manage their school fees, too. Would you be prepared to finance that?'

‘Oh, for God's sake,' he said, his anger evaporating. ‘Of course I'll continue to pay the bloody school fees. I'd have done that if you'd come with me so what difference does it make? It's just all so disappointing, Fliss. It's been my dream for so long and now it's just turned to ashes.'

He dropped his head forward, chin to chest, but this time his expression had no power to move her.

‘Of course you must think it over,' she said gently. ‘I quite see that. But try not to reject it out of hand,' and picking up the tray she went out to the kitchen.

The Little Chef on the Honiton road was almost empty. Having taken some time in choosing his breakfast from the menu Jolyon sat back, swinging his legs, looking about him. His cheeks, although cold when he actually touched them, seemed to be burning after the journey all the way from Hampshire with the car's hood down. It had been really great, sitting beside Daddy in the front, with the wind rushing over his head. Mummy hadn't been all that keen when he'd pleaded to have the hood down very early that morning as they were getting ready to leave.

‘It could pour at any moment,' she'd said. ‘Oh, really, Hal, you're just encouraging him . . .' but Daddy had given him a private little wink and gone on putting it down. Ed had jumped about saying things like, ‘You
are
lucky,' and, ‘I wish I could come,' but they both knew that he was looking forward to his Open Day. They'd talked about it already, he and Ed, because he'd wanted to be certain that Ed didn't really mind about them not being there or whether he was upset about missing the visit to the ship. Mummy had sounded almost cross when Daddy said he was taking him when he went down to the ship. He, Jolyon, had heard them talking in the kitchen when they thought he and Ed had gone off on their bikes to a friend just down the lane.

‘It's bad enough,' she'd said, ‘not coming to the Open Day but to take Jolyon as well.'

‘I don't suppose that Jo will mind missing the Open Day,' Daddy had answered, ‘and anyway, I thought we agreed that it was I who had to do the dirty work.'

He'd wondered what the dirty work was. After all, with Daddy being the Captain there couldn't be anything for him to do on the boat that would be dirty.

‘It doesn't have to be then,' she'd said in her cross voice. ‘There will be plenty of other opportunities.'

‘Possibly, but I've taken the decision now.' Daddy had what he and Ed called his ‘don't care' voice. Mummy often got cross these days and at some time or other they'd all pretended that they didn't really care even if, inside, they felt knotted up and a bit anxious really. It was nice to think that Daddy felt just like they did but somehow a bit scary, too, because it meant that though he was grown up he could be just as frightened as they could. It made him, Jolyon, feel rather grown up himself because sometimes it was as if he and Daddy were the same age, like when Daddy winked and went on putting down the hood and Mummy stood there looking angry but not being able to stop him.