you must stop. It’s cruel, you see. It’s cruel to your mother and father.”
“Cruel to
Unwanted knowledge lay inside her like a stone. “Just let it go,” she said. “Let her grow up, will you? You talk about them being unhappy, but can’t you see? What you’re doing, it’s like putting a knife in them.”
“Why? You mean, because I say they can’t look after her?”
“Yes, just for that reason.”
“I’m frightened for her,” Julian said. “Such evil things happen.”
“I know. I know you’re frightened. But let it go now, will you?
They walked away down the aisle to the back of the church, and again their shadows moved before them, merging and melting, their limbs like those of giant animals, their shapes outlandish; but soft, very soft, shades reflected, shadows seen through glass. The machine in the distance had cut its engine; the thunder in the air had killed the bird song, the insect hum. They touched hands as they came out of the porch—just the back of their hands brushing against each other. Sandra did not dare look into Julian’s face; he did not look at her. In the distance, imaginary no doubt, the undisturbed pulse of the sea.
NINE
Julian telephoned home from a call box in a pub on the coast road. “Mum, is everything all right at home?”
“Where are you?”
“In the Ship,” he said, confusing her.
“When can we expect to set eyes on you?”
A pause. “In a day or two.”
“Robin seems to think you’ve moved out for good.”
“He’s no reason to think that.”
“Julian, is there some problem over there?”
Another pause. “We’ll have to have a talk sometime. But not just … not just yet. Till I know what’s happening here. But look, don’t worry. It’s just that I can’t come home at the moment.”
“Julian,” she said, “if you are trying to reassure me, stop now. All you are achieving is to alarm me wildly.”
“Mum, don’t tell Dad I called, okay?”
“Why ever not?”
“I only wanted to know if you were all right.”
“Julian …”
No answer. The line went dead. I’ll drive over, she thought, see what’s what. It occurred to her that she wasn’t entirely certain
where Mrs. Glasse lived. Still, she could find it, it wasn’t beyond her capacities … but then, she thought, there’s Melanie, and it’s getting urgent to find some clothes for her, I ought to take her shopping; and even if I put it off for another day, I can’t leave Kit at home with her while I go chasing after Julian, it’s not fair. What does it matter if he doesn’t come home for a few days? It’s not like him to make mysteries, but perhaps it’s something to do with Sandra’s mother, family business, something he doesn’t want to talk about. Not trouble with the police again, surely? Another thing went through her mind, that goes through the mind of every woman with a grown-up son on the loose: could Sandra be pregnant? Probably I’m being melodramatic. I wonder … would Ralph have time to drive over? She looked at her watch. I’ll catch him at Mrs. Gartree’s, she thought.
Mrs. Gartree was an old woman, very deaf and vague. She had been a friend of Ralph’s parents, and a great churchgoer in her prime, and Ralph had taken it upon himself to call on her once a month. Mrs. Gartree liked to discuss parish politics in her strident bellow, and was assiduous in filling out forms for obscure state benefits to which someone had told her she might be entitled. She had a fortune in the bank, Ralph said, but he helped her with the forms all the same; she had few pleasures left in life, he said, just this one and planning her funeral.
Mrs. Gartree’s voice: indignant, very loud. “My telephone flashed at me. Who are you? What do you want?”
“It’s Anna. ANNA. ANNA ELDRED. Ralph’s wife.”
“Oh yes.” Mrs. Gartree sounded mollified.
“Is he there?”
“Mrs. Gartree dwindled into vagueness. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Has he left?”
“What?”
“Have I missed him? Has he been and gone?”
“Missed him? Oh, I’m sure I would,” Mrs. Gartree said skittishly. “But he was here last week. I think so. Within the month.”
“But today?” I should have known better than to get into this, Anna thought. “Today—he said he was going to call on you.”
“No,” Mrs. Gartree said. “You called me. I haven’t spoken to Ralph. No, not for many a moon.”
Anna turned up her eyes. “Okay, Mrs. Gartree. Sorry to have bothered you.”
