This Honourable House (15 page)

Maddie shook her head, her eyes on her daughter-in-law. Lawrence drank his tea, his eyes darting about the kitchen. ‘And can I take it nothing’s seriously wrong?’

The silence that greeted this query was an eloquent response. He sat down at Christine’s side and touched her arm. ‘Do you want to tell me? Did you have a row, was that it? We are all family. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.’

The word touched a raw nerve. Christine sat up in anger. ‘Family! Family? It sounds as if everybody in this family knew perfectly well that Benedict had problems, yet nobody bothered to tell
me
. I’m just the wife.’

They stared at her. It had to be said: ‘I’m the one that has to put up with the tears and the groans night after night. I’m the one who has to try with him, and encourage him, and soothe him when he fails. You have no idea. Family! My God, you should be ashamed of yourselves. You especially, Lawrence. I bet you knew. Didn’t you?
Didn’t you
?’ Her voice had risen with a tinge of hysteria. She squeezed his arm tightly till he winced and tried to free himself. She continued, ‘He can’t help it, and he does his best. But if you were aware of this all along – and you, Maddie, suspected – then why the hell did you push him into getting married? He could have survived happily enough as a bachelor. I didn’t push him, that’s for sure. A gay bachelor is okay, especially if he refuses to apologise or explain. A gay husband, darlings, isn’t. What you’ve done is create upstairs a very unhappy man.’

‘He’s not –’ Lawrence began, but a glare from Christine quelled him. He took a breath and started again. ‘I have no evidence that he’s gay. I’m not sure I believe it.’

‘What you mean is you’ve never slept with him,’ said Christine rudely. ‘Well, I have, and I can give you chapter and verse. Whatever Benedict’s sterling personal qualities, he’s not into women. Literally. Oh!’ She began to weep, her head bent over the table.

‘Don’t, Christine. It shouldn’t matter,’ said Lawrence stubbornly. ‘There are gay Cabinet ministers now. The world has become more tolerant.’

‘It hasn’t,’ said Christine, through her tears. ‘Not in this country. Not yet. Not on our side of the political fence. And not as long as you politicians try to win votes by bleating on about
family values
. It makes me sick.’

‘Enough.’ Maddie busied herself putting plates and cups into the sink. ‘We’re making so much racket we’ll wake him. Or those pests outside will hear us. Don’t forget, Christine, that he was a grown man, a fully responsible being. And he was very taken with you. That was not a deception. He wanted to get married. He wanted to be like everybody else. He wanted kids, I’ll bet.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ Christine scrabbled under the table for her handbag and found a tissue. She blew her nose. ‘The fact is, he’s totally wrapped up in his politics. His speeches are his babies. He takes a huge pride in each one, spends hours crafting them. He lives and breathes politics. If we did have children it would humanise him – he’d be a fine father – but the instant he was back on the job they’d be tucked into the furthest recesses of his psyche. Nobody would suffer: he’s too good and thoughtful for that. His manners, as you say, are impeccable. But emotionally, we would never be his priority.’

‘It’s probably too easy to forget that
you
are suffering, Christine.’ Lawrence tried to be emollient, which seemed effective. He refrained from commenting that Christine had been equally determined to marry, to such an extent that her own ambition had been remarked upon; she must share any guilt they might have at fitting Benedict into an unsuitable mould. But if Christine stayed loyal, she would take the brunt of the anguish. Only if she broke ranks and began publicly to blame his mother or his friends might she avoid that; and it might be a path she would choose if the misery became too great to bear.

‘Lawrence, I was going to ask. Is there any evidence that Benedict was, shall we say, corrupted? Introduced to homosexual practices? When he was a student?’

Lawrence’s eyes flickered. ‘He was in Scotland, I was at Oxford, so it’s hard to say,’ he said, then caught Christine’s grim expression. ‘It sounds as if you might have some evidence, as you put it. What have you found? Some letters, or a diary?’

‘God, no. I hope to heaven no such stuff exists.’ Christine paused. ‘But I did find a photograph. It obviously meant a lot to him, because it was tucked away behind another that was on the wall. It must have been at university. I recognised one of the other people in it. One of the other
men
in it,’ she corrected herself.

‘Who?’

She had their full attention. ‘Does it matter? He’s a prominent public figure. He’s in this business as well.’

Lawrence was nonplussed, but it was Maddie, busy at the sink, who twisted around and waved a dishcloth in admonishment. ‘Watch your mouth, Christine. What are we talking about? Ruining another life if we chatter about who it might be? What purpose would that serve?’

The other two blinked at her, astonished. She scrubbed vigorously at a plate with her dishcloth. ‘Whoever it is, and I can guess who, he’s another woman’s son. Mothers can tell, you’re right to be critical about that, but admitting it to yourself, or God forbid to anybody else, can be impossible, honestly. If I must, then I apologise.
There.
But it keeps coming back to the same point. Benedict is a grown man. He knows his own nature. He made a free choice and I’m certain he’ll
honour it. And he loves you, Christine.’

‘
That’s right
.’

The haggard figure in the doorway, hollow cheeks unshaven, appeared to have aged ten years since his wife and cousin had last seen him. In a brown dressing gown tied loosely round the middle with a frayed cord, Benedict seemed to have lost two stone. His eyes were dull and puffy. He ran fingers through his thinning hair and brushed fallen strands from his palm. ‘Is that tea you’re offering, Mother? Thank you. I could drink a whole pot by myself.’

He sat down at the table, picked up a scone and broke it in half without using a plate. He put a few dry crumbs into his mouth, then thirstily drank the tea placed before him, averting his eyes from the three watchers. At last he seemed ready to speak and motioned his mother to leave her chores and sit down.

‘First, I owe everyone an apology. To you, Mother, for arriving just like that and dragging the rat-pack of the press to your door. And to the neighbours – it can’t be fun for them either. And to Lawrence. You’ve been such a steadfast friend. I’ve let you down so badly.’

He turned to his wife, met her eyes briefly, then with a twitch of pain looked away. ‘Mostly you, Christine. I don’t know how to say it – and I’m so slick with words usually, always find the phrase for the moment. But this isn’t politics, it’s real life. And I ache to the very bottom of my soul for what I’ve done to you. Because I worship you, and you don’t deserve this.’

‘Oh, Benedict,’ was all Christine could manage. Her fingers crept along the table top till they touched his sleeve, but he moved his arm away.

‘Forgive me, I overheard part of your conversation. You understand me rather better than I understand myself. But I’ve sensed for ages that I was probably gay, perhaps without openly saying it to myself or accepting it. I lived in shadows. I hoped there was an alternative. In those circumstances, taking a wife was unforgivable.’

He seemed about to start on a long narrative. Christine could not stop herself interrupting. ‘So why did you?’

‘Oh, that’s simple. How many people would vote for an openly gay man as a party leader? How many of our activists would say, “Go ahead, chum, it doesn’t matter a jot?” A handful. Look at the fuss over Michael Portillo in the Tory Party, the vicious attacks on him by his own side. And the fact is, equality in law only came when it was forced through against the bitter opposition of their lordships. Sure, we’ve had bachelors in the past who have been great leaders, but they’ve survived by keeping it quiet. If they want to get on, they have to conform. Or appear to. They have precious little choice.’

‘But there are plenty of those sort in public life. In the arts and theatre, especially,’ Maddie said. ‘The TV’s full of them …’ She gestured at the shuttered living room.

‘They get away with it. In other fields that’s impossible. Why? Because most people in this country think homosexuality is a perversion. They find the whole business disgusting. They equate one perversion with another – they think being gay means you’re automatically a child molester. How could such a person be entrusted with upholding the law? Such terrible untruths are uttered as if they were gospel.
Gays spread disease. Gays corrupt the young. Gays destroy the fabric of society
. If we were to make gay relationships equal in law to heterosexual ones, we’re destroying the family. As if straight men and women haven’t done a cracking good job of that already.’

‘I have never heard you speak this way before,’ Lawrence murmured. ‘You sound like a campaigner. But you stayed out of the debate in the House. You are not exactly associated, Benedict, with the equal-rights lobby.’

‘Maybe I should’ve been. I’d have been less of a hypocrite.’ There was bitterness in Benedict’s voice. ‘If what’s being said is nonsense, and cruel nonsense to boot, then it’s criminal to stay quiet. Especially when people are suffering.’

‘Whatever.’ His mother narrowed her eyes. ‘You were under no obligation to align yourself with such people. Martyrdom gets you nowhere. And there were excellent reasons for that.’

‘Yes, and that’s because men like me are cowards,’ Benedict said angrily. ‘We accept society’s verdict instead of trying to change it. We let prejudice and bigotry become respectable instead of seeking an intelligent and well-informed debate. We go along with it, we keep our heads down, we’re too busy on the day of the vote. What did Burke say? All that is required for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing. When the “good men” are among those who stand to benefit most from change, it’s compounding the evil to stay silent.’

He stood up and paced agitatedly around the room. ‘That makes it harder for those brave souls who are willing to stand up and be counted. And, anyway, what kind of society are we trying to create? One in which everybody’s the same? Heaven help us! We refuse to speak up for diversity, and we conform ourselves, in our own lives. Or try to.’ He glanced at Christine, who sat silent, staring at him. ‘In the end, it’s a lack of leadership. I don’t deserve to be where I am. I shall resign at once.’

There was a chorus of ‘No, no’ from his listeners. ‘You’re going too fast, Benedict,’ said Lawrence, entering a note of caution. ‘Tell us what triggered this off.’

Benedict sagged. ‘It simply got too much, I suppose. Everyone hinting, asking, “When’s Christine going to get pregnant?” Watching our body language when we’re out together – are we like any other young couple? Are we touchy-feely? But it was a pretence, and suddenly I couldn’t stand it any more. The moment I started to analyse what I’d done, how irresponsible and mad I’d been, I needed some time to sort it out, in my own head at least.’

‘If it isn’t an entirely stupid question,’ said Christine, ‘why did you decide on the rock-solid commitment of marriage? We could have been platonic friends, and you would have avoided a lot of this trouble.’

‘That wouldn’t have worked,’ Benedict said. ‘I suppose part of the problem lay in my upbringing. I’m not blaming you, Mother, but it’s a fact. I was brought up to believe that family life was the best thing going, and I still passionately believe that. In the shadows was the unspoken assumption that a man who preferred men was letting the whole side down and, moreover, that he could never find happiness. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Tell some poor bloke that he should be disgusted with himself, and he will be. The urges won’t go away, but he’ll do his damnedest to eradicate them by trying something else.’

‘Like finding a supportive woman,’ Christine finished for him.

Benedict nodded. ‘I’ve thought about it till my head nearly burst. It’s no wonder so many gay men drift around and are promiscuous – they can’t stick with a relationship beyond almost anonymous sex. One-night stands are so much simpler. And I’m not like that. I do strongly believe in that commitment you referred to.’

‘You always were a serious child,’ his mother said comfortingly, but she was sidelined. Benedict was speaking solely to his wife.

‘When I said in the past that I regarded myself as a lucky man that you accepted my proposal, it was no more than the truth,’ he continued. ‘You are a marvellous, lovely, desirable lady. If anybody could have helped me to overcome my, ah, natural tendencies, it was you. And I desperately wanted to eliminate them. To be normal. I needed your help to do it, and I was thrilled when you agreed.’

‘That’s what you said before we got engaged. You are right: I went into it with my eyes open,’ said Christine wryly. She saw Maddie’s raised eyebrow. ‘Yes, I tried to blame you earlier, Mother. But we make these decisions in a vacuum. I was convinced I knew what I was doing.’

‘Well, you didn’t. And nor did I. It was an experiment I could never have pulled off. Had I mixed more with gays, read it up, I’d have realised that our plans were a hiding to nothing. Perhaps if you’d had lots of gay friends, darling, you’d have taken me by the hand and told me not to be so foolish. Fact is, you can as easily persuade a gay man to screw a woman as you can persuade a
straight man to screw a man. It can’t be done.’

‘Hold on there,’ Lawrence protested. ‘What about Oscar Wilde? He had kids. He was heartbroken when he lost them.’

Benedict pulled his earlobe. ‘Maybe he was better at it than I was – the pretence, I mean. But it defeated him in the end, too.’

Christine touched his sleeve. ‘When I promised to love, honour and obey, darling, I did it with my eyes open. You were frightened and appalled by what had gone before and I was willing to support you. It never occurred to me, to be frank, that we wouldn’t succeed.’

The four sat at the table, avoiding each other’s eyes. In the hallway the letter-box rattled. They could hear a high female voice inquiring after Benedict and whether the occupants could confirm he was present.