Lovers and Liars (59 page)

There was one other door in the room. This she opened silently, easing up the latch, any noise she made drowned by the hiss of the gas stove in the kitchen beyond. It led, as she had expected, to a narrow flight of uncarpeted stairs. One room on the ground floor, and one above, presumably where McMullen slept.

She edged back to the warmth of the paraffin heater. How odd that McMullen should have chosen to bring them here, she thought. This was a place for a stake-out. But if McMullen actually was staking out Hawthorne, this was surely the last thing he would want them to know.

When Pascal and McMullen returned, McMullen’s manner seemed to have thawed. He looked more at ease now, as if he had warmed to Pascal, if not to her. She watched him, as he adjusted the heater, then moved to a chair. He was several inches shorter than Pascal, with a slight but strong build. From his economy of movement, and his posture, she would have guessed at an army connection even had she not known his background. His training was evident in the way he spoke as well, and as he began speaking now, that impression deepened. He gave no sign of the brief emotion he had showed earlier. He began as if this were a military briefing which needed to be conducted with brevity and speed. He drew out a packet of strong unfiltered cigarettes, and lit one. He leaned forward.

‘I’ll make a suggestion. As I said, I’m not used to talking to journalists. If you agree, I’ll tell you my side of this story, and we’ll keep the questions until the end. It will save time. Then if you have questions, I’ll do my best to answer them. Do you agreeT

The question was addressed to Pascal, who nodded. McMullen drew on his cigarette. He watched its smoke curl upwards from his hand. After a pause, he began speaking again.

‘First, the essential background. You may or may not know: I have been a close friend of Lise Hawthorne for many years. We first met shortly before I joined the Army, in nineteen seventytwo. This was long before her marriage, obviously. I spent a

Summer in Virginia with the Grenville family. At the time, I ‘Was recoverin

i g from an illness. The Grenvilles were old friends

6f my mother’s, and distant cousins of Lise’s. I needed a spell rest and recuperation, at least my mother thought I did, and e Grenvilles very kindly took me in. Lise was seventeen then. was her d6butante year. That photograph in my flat - the one I

d - was taken then. Lise and I liked one another immediately. e became, and remained ‘ close friends.’

;,He paused, and glanced at Pascal.

.:,‘I should say this now. I want you to be perfectly clear. When say friends, I mean friends. Lise and I have never been lovers. u understandT

Pascal said nothing; he nodded. McMullen went on.

‘It was and is a very deep friendship, however. I have always ired Lise. She is one of the few - the very few - genuly good people I have ever known. She has shown me great dness in the past, and I would do almost anything to return t kindness. Lise knew that. The opportunity finally came last mmer.’

Gini glanced at Pascal as he said this, and McMullen, who was arp-eved, noticed at once.

I S110LIld also make one other thing clear,’ he continued. ‘You ay %%,ell feel I’m biased against Lise’s husband - and perhaps I m. I doii’t believe that bias clouds my judgement, though you ay. For what it’s worth, I have never liked John Hawthorne, and ad%,ised Lise against marrying him. I think he is a dangerous, Id, arrogant man - very like his father, in fact. I think he is nipulative, motivated by self-interest and ambition - a man

fterly without principles, a politician of the worst sort. He is also intelligent, and gifted, which makes his behaviour far worse my view. Lise used to claim … ‘ he hesitated fractionally, ‘that I s mistaken. She would admit some of his faults - the arrogance, instance - but she would say there were mitigating factors,

s upbringing and so on. At the time she married him, she was ssioriately in love with him. At that time, I knew a great deal more aboUt her future husband than Lise realized, and I had ft) decide whether to tell her what I knew, or remain silent. In the end, I decided to stay silent. Lise was so persuasive on iis belialf, so full of his virtues, that it seemed cruel to speak out. hi the first place, she would have refused to believe me. In the second, it would have brought our friendship to an end.’ ‘He patised, looking away from them.

‘I convinced myself that Lise could be right, that Hawthorne might have changed. So I said nothing. I very much regret that now.

There was a brief silence. McMullen extinguished his cigarette. He looked at Pascal.

‘I’ll come back to my reasons for distrusting Hawthorne later. I should like to leave those to the end. After all,’ his voice became embittered, ‘I know why you’re here. I know why Nicholas Jenkins was so keen on this story in the first place. I may be unused to dealing with journalists, but even I know how fast they react to hint of sexual scandal, to the idea of an eminent man leading secret sexual life. Am I wrong?’

The question was sharply put. Gini said nothing, and allowed Pascal to reply. The bitterness in McMullen’s tone interested her: it was as if, with a certain contempt, he was deciding to tell them what he believed they wanted to hear.

‘No, you’re not entirely wrong/ Pascal replied in even tones. ‘I wouldn’t say it was the only kind of story to which reporters reacted swiftly, but never mind that now. We can come back to that later, as you say. Go on.’

‘Very well.’ McMullen leaned back in his chair and began to speak more rapidly. ‘During the years of her marriage I saw Lise less often than before. I was in the Army, she was in America, I had frequent postings abroad. We used to write to each other, from time to time. About four years ago, after I left the Army, I met her in Italy briefly, where she was staying, without her husband, with friends. I saw her on a few other occasions over the next three years, when she and Hawthorne were visiting London. I had dinner with them - and I noticed nothing amiss. Once Hawthorne was first posted here, I saw them more frequently. Lise invited me to various embassy dinners and parties, that kind of thing. I would meet Hawthorne, exchange a few words. He was always perfectly civil. Then, last July, I was invited for a long weekend at their country house here. And that was when I finally realized something was terribly wrong.

‘I could see straight away that Lise was under strain. It was some weeks since I’d last seen her, and in that short time, it was as if she had wasted away. She’d become painfully thin, she scarcely ate, she seemed nervous around her husband, she had these sudden inexplicable changes of mood. It was very difficult to spend any time alone with her. The house was full of other guests; Hawthorne himself was there. On the second day, I managed to

.t her away. e went for a long walk in the grounds. Miles and s. It started raining. Lise began crying. It was terrible. Finally, broke down. She told me everything.’ He broke off suddenly. face had darkened, and he gave an angry gesture.

‘What you have to understand is this, his treatment of Lise may ve worsened, but it’s been going on for years. A chain of other en, mistresses, secretaries. He slept with another woman the

ht before their marriage. He was faithful to his new wife for .sely five days. Lise knows that not because anyone gossiped, t because he chose to tell her. He’s been systematically stripping

of any confidence she ever had, telling her she was stupid, pt, comparing her to the other women he had affairs with, sting about his one-night stands … ‘

Again that violent emotion had surfaced. Gini watched as ullen fought to get it back under control. He lit another arette, his hand shaking a little as he lifted the match, then ptly he rose to his feet.

-‘I’m sorry. This isn’t easy for me. I need a drink - and I hate to nk alone. You’ll join meT

‘.1be question, Gini noted, was directed solely at Pascal. ‘Yes, we will,’ Pascal said, and McMullen checked himself. ‘I’m being rude/ he said, addressing Gini this time. ‘I apologize. wasn’t intentional. I don’t find it easy to discuss any of these .gs, particularly in front of a woman.’

He poured three measures of whisky, added water. He handed eir glasses to Gini and to Pascal, and then sat down. He glanced t his watch again.

Pascal said, ‘Just how worried are you about the time? We do d to get this clear, you know.’

k, ‘Of course. It’s all right/ McMullen said hastily. ‘I’m coming to e point where you will already have quite a lot of information.’ s time he made an effort to include Gini in his next question.

r. ‘You know there were rumours circulating in Washington, before they came over here? You know that Appleyard finally picked up on those rumoursT

‘I, ‘Yes,’ Gini said, ‘we do.’

t: ‘Fine.’ He gave a curt nod. ‘What you may not know is who gitarted those rumours. It was John Hawthorne himself. It was part of a long campaign to undermine Lise.’

.., He stopped to light another cigarette, then continued. ‘For years, the first six years of their marriage, Hawthorne believed bis dominance over Lise was so strong that no matter what he

did, he could get away with it. He knew Lise was too devout a Catholic ever to contemplate divorce. He knew how much she loved her children. He believed he could rely on that, and on her pride. Then there was a change. Around four years ago, Adam, their younger son, became ill.’

He paused, still trying to fight down emotion. ‘He nearly died. I think something snapped in Lise then. She might have gone on enduring it all, the humiliations, the cruelty, the boasts - but after Adam’s illness, she finally saw that she had to protect her children from this man. She began to see at last - at least this is what she tells me - that Hawthorne’s influence on his children could ultimately be as harmful to them as his father’s had been to him. So she gave Hawthorne an ultimatum. Either he changed his ways, or she would leave him and live apart with her children. She didn’t threaten him with exposure - nothing like that. just separation. And Hawthorne swore to her he would change.’

McMullen gave them both a cold glance. ‘You can imagine how long that lasted. A few months. Hawthorne was panicked into resigning from the Senate - I think because he feared scandal, and for the first time in his life he was genuinely afraid of what Lise might do. But being a reformed man didn’t suit him at all. He was drinking heavily; there were violent quarrels with Lise. Then, he stopped the drinking and took up with the women again. Only there was this new variation, an added twist. The mistresses and one-night stands weren’t enough any more. That’s when the monthly appointments with the blondes began. But he covered himself. He began on a new strategy. That’s when the rumours about Lise’s mental health began to circulate too . - .

‘It was clever of him, you have to admit that.’ McMullen looked at them closely. ‘Lise was genuinely very near to breakdown then. Hawthorne told her, if she tried to leave him, he would get custody of the children. He would claim she was an unfit mother, mentally unstable. Both he and his father had a long interview with her, and they spelled it out very clearly. They showed her a list of witnesses who’d take the stand against her - servants, maids, secretaries, friends. Some of those Hawthorne and his father could bribe, others they simply leaned on - and they had years of experience in doing that. Hawthorne’s father’s proudest boast was that there was no-one he couldn’t buy.

‘Beyond that specific threat/ McMullen continued, ‘the scheme was an effective one. Hawthorne was protecting himself in advance. If, in future, Lise ever did speak out against him, whether

a custody battle or just to friends, few people would believe her. thing she said would be dismissed as paranoid, as deluded. I of course, the saddest thing of all was that the more he sured her in this way, the worse her health became. I pery believe that he and his father planned it that way: they trying actually to drive her insane. After all, from John orne’s own point of view, better an unstable wife in a

tal institution than a smashed-up presidential career. That Hawthorne got everyone’s vote of sympathy - a sick wife d be turned to his advantage, do you seeT

p to a point.’ Gini leaned forward. ‘Except by then, Hawrne’s career was on hold. He’d resigned from the Senate. It s before he took up the posting here.’

Hawthorne’s career has never been on hold/ McMullen replied rply. ‘You have to understand that. It’s fundamental to the n. He may have decided it was wise to take a back seat for while, until he’d dealt with the question of Lise. He may have

‘ded it was better to get her away from friends and relations America, yes. But he has never abandoned his central ambition ,4nd neither has his father. You can be quite certain that his

er has been involved in all this, every step of the way. If thorne ever did hesitate as to the wisdom of committing wife, the mother of his sons, to a mental institution, you be sure the father would be there at his shoulder, saying go t ahead, it’s the best way.’

‘Is that what you think?’ Pascal leaned forward. ‘You seriously .Hawthorne intended to have his wife committedT

‘I don’t think it. I know. He threatened her with it several times. Is already selected the hospital. It’s called Henley Grange. It’s vate and it’s twenty miles outside London. Hawthorne gave

a sweetener - a donation of fifty thousand dollars, last r.,

‘How do you know thatT

?‘Lise saw the cancelled cheque. Moreover, a doctor affiliated ‘th Henley Grange has been treating Lise since last autumn. awthorne called him in personally. And you know when he ‘d that? Two days after I first spoke to Appleyard. Which was so two days after Hawthorne started tapping my phone.’

He leaned forward, his face now strained and intent. ‘Do you ? You have to understand the timing here. Last July, when Xise told me her story, I was appalled. I couldn’t believe that any

an would act in that way - ritualizing his sexual encounters,

then forcing his wife to listen to descriptions of them month after month. If anyone other than Lise had told me that story, I might not have believed it. But it was Lise - and Lise never lies. And, as it happened, it echoed other things I’d heard about Hawthorne long before. Hawthorne was always a sadist. He was a sadist as a very young man.’