Sins of the Fathers (24 page)

We moved to a quiet corner behind a block of sculpture. I smoothed my hands frantically against my formal black gown as if
I could somehow wring all the poise I needed from those elegant folds, but when I tried to speak I found to my horror that
I had forgotten the careful opening sentence I had endlessly rehearsed for the occasion.

‘Alicia? Is something wrong?’

I found my tongue. ‘No, nothing’s wrong,’ I stammered, ‘nothing at—’ I ran out of breath unexpectedly and had to pause to
regain it. I felt as if I were in the midst of some violent punitive exercise. ‘—at all. I just – Jake, may I see you some
time, please? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. I know you’re very busy, but—’

‘I always have time for my friends. When would you like us to meet?’

‘Oh, I – well, I … I thought maybe you could stop by at our house after work one evening for a drink.’

‘Yes, of course – I’d be delighted. What evening did you have in mind?’

‘I thought … perhaps next week … Thursday … Of course if it’s not inconvenient—’

‘Thursday would be fine. But won’t Neil be away in Chicago?’

‘Yes. But this is something very confidential, Jake. You mustn’t tell Cornelius. Or anybody else.’

‘My lips will be completely sealed, I promise you!’ He looked both bemused and intrigued. ‘I hope there’s nothing seriously
wrong?’

‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Nothing. Thanks so much, Jake.’

‘Till Thursday,’ he said, raising his hand casually in farewell as he drifted away into the crowd. ‘I’ll be looking forward
to it.’

I stared after him, and the noise in the room seemed to increase until I felt dizzy. Leaning back against the wall I tried
to breathe evenly but my body was bathed in sweat and I felt more ill than ever. I felt unclean too, as if I had been contaminated
by some disgusting disease.

The compulsion to turn to Cornelius for comfort was overwhelming, and when my dizziness had passed I edged my way blindly
through the crowds to the place where we had separated. The journey seemed to take an immense time. I felt as if I were moving
in that familiar nightmare where the person one wants is always just beyond one’s reach

‘Cornelius!’

I found him at last. He turned, and as I swayed with relief the woman at his side stopped talking. I stared at her. Nobody
spoke. It was as if the whole room had fallen silent although the roar of conversation still pounded sickeningly in my ears.

‘Alicia,’ said Cornelius in a voice devoid of expression, ‘this is Teresa Kowalewski. Some of her pictures are here, as you
know. Teresa, this is my wife.’

The woman wore a shiny red dress and red shoes. The two shades of red were a bad match. She was taller than Cornelius and
looked large and awkward beside him.

‘Hi,’ she said, looking larger and more awkward than ever.

‘Good evening.’ I wished I could think of some annihilating phrase. In my day-time serials the best wives could always cut
the mistresses down to size.

For a second I still could not believe she was the woman who went to bed with Cornelius. I knew that there was a Polish-American
woman somewhere in Manhattan called Teresa who painted pictures and had only one evening frock, and I knew that Cornelius
had for various reasons been seeing her regularly, but I had never comprehended the enormity of her role in his life. No doubt
I had preferred
not to face the truth; perhaps, loving Cornelius as I did, I had been incapable of facing it. But now the magnitude of the
whole appalling hurtful mess burst violently upon me and there was no avoiding it. This vulgar, coarse, garish girl went to
bed with my husband. Somewhere in New York there was a bed where they lay naked together and practised all the physical intimacies
I was denied. She knew how he kissed. She knew how he made love. She possessed a whole world of knowledge which should have
belonged only to me and which she had no right to share.

I looked at Cornelius and for the first time felt totally betrayed.

‘This is just the most exciting day of my life!’ the woman was saying in a rush. ‘In fact I’m so frightened I can hardly speak!’

‘Oh.’

‘Teresa’s frightened of the critics,’ said Cornelius unnecessarily.

‘Oh.’

‘Why, there’s Kevin!’ exclaimed the woman. ‘Excuse me, but I just must—’ She flew off thankfully.

After a pause Cornelius said strained: ‘I’m very sorry. I can’t think why you came over to us. I did warn you.’

‘Yes. It doesn’t matter.’ I looked around blankly for someone to talk to. Yet another millionaire buttonholed Cornelius.

I wondered what Jake would be like in bed.

[5]

I was wearing my smartest black dress and trying to decide how much make-up to use. I disliked make-up, but once one’s fortieth
birthday was on the horizon one could hardly pretend one’s natural appearance was the most flattering. At last I powdered
my face lightly, applied an unobtrusive lipstick and gave my eyelashes a careful brush with mascara. Then turning to my jewelboxes
I passed over the diamonds which Cornelius liked me to wear, ignored the rubies, sapphires and emeralds which I secretly detested,
and selected an unadorned gold pin.

By six o’clock I was downstairs in one of the reception rooms – not Cornelius’ favourite the Gold Room, which was small and
cosy, but the Rembrandt Room where gloomy Rembrandt self-portraits gazed down upon the exquisite furniture of eighteenth-century
England. I drank a very large martini and ordered another. By that time I was wondering in panic if the Versailles Room would
have provided a less depressing atmosphere, but I did not think I could have faced seeing
myself reflected in all those gilt mirrors. Besides, the furniture was too rococo. Jake deserved the effortless elegance of the English furniture and perhaps, as he was so accustomed to living with the Reischman art collection, he would barely notice
the introspective Rembrandts on the walls.

‘Mr Reischman, madam,’ announced Carraway grandly in his richest British accent.

As I rose to my feet I discovered that the unaccustomed martini had made me light-headed, and I rested my fingertips unobtrusively
on the nearest table to steady myself. In the circumstances it seemed not only a nominal but a hopeless attempt to maintain
my equilibrium.

‘Alicia!’ said Jake, moving smoothly into the room. ‘How are you? I hope I’m not late.’ He held both my hands for a second
and released them. The physical contact, arid and meaningless, was over before I could register any emotion, even dread. I
noticed for the first time that he had square, workmanlike hands with short fingers.

‘No, no, of course you’re not late! Do sit down. What would you like to drink?’ I tried not to sound like an actress reading
an unfamiliar script.

Jake glanced at my empty martini glass and then said casually as he sat down opposite me: ‘I’ll take some scotch on the rocks.
Johnnie Walker Black Label, if possible.’

We made small talk about the opening of the exhibition until Carraway returned with our drinks. Jake was relaxed, polished,
imperturbable. I was concentrating so hard on maintaining the conversation that it was hard for me to notice the details of
his appearance, but I was aware that his dark suit was perfectly cut and that his plain shirt was fastened at the wrists by
gold cufflinks.

‘… and how lovely Vicky was looking!’ said Jake. ‘Marriage evidently agrees with her.’

‘Yes, we’re all so relieved.’

Carraway withdrew, Jake picked up his glass of scotch. ‘Here’s to you, Alicia!’ he said with a suave courtesy any diplomat
might have envied. ‘Thank you for inviting me. Now what’s this confidential matter you mentioned? I have to admit I hardly
know how to contain my curiosity!’

It occurred to me that if he had had any inkling of what I had in mind he would have been far less flippant. ‘Well …’ I drank
some more of my new martini and began again. ‘It’s just …’ I stopped.

‘Is it about Neil?’ said Jake, still suave but mercifully direct.

‘Yes,’ I said, drinking very fast again.

He offered his cigarette case to me.

‘No, thank you, Jake, I hardly ever smoke nowadays. Cornelius’ asthma—’

‘I’m not Cornelius and I think you should have a cigarette to calm you down.’

I took the cigarette. As he lit it for me he said abruptly: ‘Is Neil in some kind of trouble?’

‘Oh no!’ I said rapidly. ‘Everything’s fine. It’s just that, well, we’ve decided to – to live a little differently, that’s
all, I mean, it’s entirely a mutual decision and our marriage is intact, but … well, it’s all a bit different now from the
way it used to be.’

After a pause Jake said: ‘I see,’ and lit his own cigarette.

‘No, I don’t suppose you do because I’m explaining myself so stupidly. Cornelius has a mistress, Jake. I mean, it’s not like
that time when you – it’s not just one night here and there with anyone who happens to be available. There’s a woman he sees
regularly. I guess you probably know all about it.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Oh. I somehow have this idea that you, Cornelius, Kevin and Sam know all each other’s secrets.’

‘My dear, those days are long gone – we’re all a hundred light years away now from those Bar Harbor summers with Paul. How
did you find out about this mistress?’

‘Oh, Cornelius told me,’ I said. ‘Of course.’

There was another pause before Jake said: ‘Of course.’

‘For various reasons – I needn’t bother you with them – Cornelius and I have decided not to sleep together any more. We’ve
discussed the whole thing calmly and sensibly and agreed that he should take a mistress while I should – should—’

‘Take a lover? Neil surprises me. I wouldn’t have thought him capable of being so civilized. Does he feel extraordinarily
guilty towards you for some reason?’

I heard myself say quickly: ‘I don’t want to go into his motives, Jake.’

‘And I’m not sure I want to hear them. Well,’ said Jake, sitting back comfortably in his chair with his glass in one hand
and his cigarette in the other, ‘so you’re looking for a lover.’

‘Yes.’ Unable to look at him I finished my martini and listened to a calm sensible woman who could not possibly be me talking
nonchalantly about the difficulty of committing adultery. ‘Of course it’s very awkward. I’ve got to be totally discreet, and
that’s why I can only choose someone who would be loyal to Cornelius. You may think it absurd – even bizarre – that I could
only ask someone loyal to
Cornelius to do something which would appear to be the ultimate disloyalty, but—’

‘—but what more loyal gesture could one imagine? If the man looked after his friend’s wife when the friend himself was apparently
unwilling to do so, wouldn’t he in fact be doing everyone the greatest possible favour?’

‘Exactly!’ An enormous burden seemed to dissolve amidst the relief that such perfect understanding made further explanations
unnecessary. ‘Yes. Well … you can see how awkwardly I’m placed. There are so few men I can rely upon absolutely, and since
Sam’s married to my own stepdaughter and Kevin wouldn’t be interested—’

‘My dear Alicia!’ Jake put down both glass and cigarette and sprang to his feet. ‘What an enormous compliment!’ Without the
slightest hesitation he took my hand and raised it to his lips before sitting down beside me on the couch. ‘I’m immensely
flattered! Thank you very much. However—’

‘You’re not interested.’ I did not know how I was going to endure my humiliation. My face was already hot with shame as I
stared down at my hands, but just as I was wondering in despair how I was ever going to face seeing him again he said wryly:
‘You underestimate yourself. If you were any woman but Cornelius Van Zale’s wife I assure you I wouldn’t have waited all these
years for an invitation.’

His left hand moved. I could see with great clarity the blunt square nails and the solid flesh around the joints, and when
that hand covered mine I found those thick powerful fingers had a firm comforting clasp. Then I noticed with equal clarity
that the dark material of his suit was stretched tight across his thigh as he leant towards me, and for a second I had a vivid
impression of the strong solid flesh beneath. My glance travelled further up to his thigh and then stopped although the image
I now saw existed only in my imagination.

I felt hot but the heat no longer sprang from embarrassment. I heard myself say in a low voice: ‘I know you’d never deceive
Cornelius under ordinary circumstances, Jake, but these circumstances are quite different. After all, Cornelius has given
me his full permission to have an affair with whoever I choose.’

‘Alicia,’ said Jake, ‘let me give you a word of advice. Neil may sincerely believe he can regard your adultery with equanimity.
He may honestly and truly believe it. But the fact is there are very few men who can tolerate their wives’ adultery and I
doubt if Neil would ever be able to take his place among those select few. It’s all very well to say that you’ve both discussed
this in a civilized fashion, but the truth is there
is
no civilized way of discussing adultery. It’s a primitive subject
dealing with primitive emotions, and the people who get into the worst messes are always the people who think they’re operating
under these so-called civilized agreements. Never, never tell him if you’re unfaithful to him, and make very, very sure you’re
never found out.’

I felt chilled. ‘You think it would be too dangerous for you to become involved with me.’

‘No, I didn’t say that.’ Satisfied that I had taken his warning seriously Jake seemed to relax. With his free hand he reached
for his cigarette. ‘I think if we were careful,’ he said, ‘there’d be a ninety-nine per cent chance that we’d never be found
out. It’s only in the canons of literature that adultery inevitably has disastrous consequences. However, there would always
be that slight risk, and frankly it’s a risk I just can’t afford to take. I do a lot of business on Wall Street with Neil
and his good will is vital to me. And besides—’ He fell silent.

‘Besides,’ I said bleakly, concluding the sentence for him, ‘no matter what one says to the contrary when one’s trying to
be sophisticated, a man just doesn’t go to bed with his best friend’s wife.’