Black Is the Colour of My True Love's Heart

was there. It must have been only a few weeks before my father was killed.”

A school speech-day, George thought, dazzled, why didn’t I think of that? The white dress, the modest jewellery permitted for wear on a ceremonial occasion, the radiance in her face – Arundale must have had that vision on his mind ever afterwards. And she without a thought of him, or of anything else but her lover, the bridal gift round her neck, and the child that was coming.

Liri was frowning over a puzzling memory. “But you know, what I don’t understand is that Mr. Arundale practically told me that his wife couldn’t have any children. Not in so many words, but that was what he meant.”

“Felicity told me the same thing,” said George, unimpressed. “That’s not so strange. Can you imagine a man like Arundale being open to the idea that the fault might possibly be in him?”

“No,” she agreed bitterly, “you’re right, of course. Even in the Bible you notice it’s always barren wives.”

“And how,” asked George, returning gently to the matter in hand, “did you come to meet your mother again?”

“It was at a party the recording company gave, about six weeks ago.” Lucien turned his face aside for a moment, wrung by the realisation of how short a time they had had together. “She’d lost sight of me all these years, but after I started singing she began to follow up all the notices about me. I kept my own name, you see, so she knew who I was. She began to edge her way into the folk world, to get to know people so that she could get to me. And I… it’s hard to explain. I’d grown up happy enough. After the Galts were killed it was the orphanage, of course, but that was pretty good, too, I didn’t have any complaints. They told me I’d been adopted, naturally, they always do that, because you’re dead certain to find out one day, anyhow. We had one committee-woman who’d known the Galts slightly, and she told me how this medal I had had belonged to my father, who was dead, and my mother had let me go for adoption. I never had anything against my father, how could I? But there was always this thing I had about my mother, pulling two ways, wanting her because after all you’re not complete without one, and hating her because she just gave me up when the going got rough. And then this one day, at this party, there I was suddenly alone in a corner with this beautiful, fashionable woman, and she said to me: ‘I’ve been trying for ages to meet you. I’m your mother.’ ”

He doubled his long hands into fists and wrung them in a momentary spasm of anguish, and then uncurled them carefully, and let them lie still and quiet on his knee.

“You can’t imagine it. Not even you, who’ve seen her. She wasn’t like she is… was… here. The way she said it, with a terrible kind of simplicity, sweeping everything that didn’t matter out of the way. I thought I hated her, I even felt I ought to hate her, but when it happened it wasn’t like that at all. It was like falling in love. The way she was, it wiped out everything. She wasn’t courting me now because I was a lion, she’d just found her way back to me because she couldn’t keep away any longer. All she wanted was to be with me. Edward – that was a contract, and she must keep it. You know? She was even very fond of him, in a way, and very loyal. But loving… I don’t think she’d loved anyone or anything but me since my father died.”

“And you?” asked George with respectful gentleness.

“It was queer with me. If I’d always had her I should just have loved her casually, like anyone else with a mother, and that would have been it. But getting her back like that, quite strange, and beautiful, and still young… and so lost, and to be pitied! Sometimes I didn’t know whether I was her son, or her brother, or her father. I knew I was her slave.”

Yes, of course, from the moment he saw that she was his. Her adoration might well have disarmed Lucifer, pride and all, grievance and all. She had loved her Gil Morrice better than all her kith and kin, how could he help returning her devotion?

“We had to meet sometimes, we couldn’t help ourselves. We had so much time to make up. But then there was Liri… Liri broke it off with me, and I knew it was because of her, but I couldn’t explain, you see, it wasn’t my secret. We could never let it be known what the real connection was, my mother’s whole life, and his, too, all this build-up, would go down the drain if we did. We must have been mad to start this week-end course, and bring the thing right here into the house. And it was awful here, always so many people, we never could talk at all. And I had to talk to her, I had to. Because when Liri followed me here I saw she wasn’t absolutely finished with me, I was sure I could get her back, but only by telling her the truth. And I couldn’t do that, even in confidence, without my mother’s consent.”

“So the message you sent by Felicity,” said George, “was a genuine message, after all?”

Lucien shook her head, wretchedly. “It was a lot of things… I don’t know… I’m not proud of that. It was a vicious thing to do, but there she was offering to do anything for me, and I wanted her out of my hair, I needed to think and she wouldn’t let me think. And I did want my mother to come, while the whole place was nearly empty. I thought he’d be away by then, safely on his way to town. So I told Felicity what she could do for me, if she meant it. I knew what she’d think, I knew what she’d feel, I knew I’d hurt her. I meant to, though I wished afterwards I hadn’t. But I did believe she’d give the message to my mother, and I was sure she’d come.

“And instead, it was Arundale who came, with that damned murderous toy. It was like an unbelievably bad film. It was even funny at first, because I couldn’t believe in it seriously. I tried to talk to him, but I swear he never heard a word. I think in a way he was mad, then. All he wanted was to kill me, and he’d have done it, but then suddenly she was there… She must have heard us right from the gate, because she came running with the latch in her hand, and hit out at him like a fury, almost before I realised she was there. And then he was on the ground, and it was all over. Unbelievably quickly. He was dead in minutes.”

Lucien passed a tired hand over his face. “She hit out in defence of me. She never thought of killing, only of stopping him from killing. But afterwards she knew she had killed him. She was totally dazed, but quite docile. It was up to me. She did whatever I told her. I taught her what to say when you questioned her. But it was partly true, you know, he did behave like she said, after Felicity left them. He did put it all aside as a piece of childish spite, and made out he was leaving for town, just as he’d planned. It was only after he’d gone that she got frightened, and came herself, to make sure…”

“You didn’t know, of course,” said George, “and neither did she, that he’d telephoned to both bodies he should have addressed in Birmingham, and called off the engagements. Yes,” he said, answering the quick, dark glance, “he was going to make good use of those two days’ grace, too. He intended murder.”

“My own fault, I snatched the world away from under his feet. But that was something I never intended. I told her to go back to the house, and to be sure not to be seen on the way. And she did whatever I told her. Ever since her heart broke, between my father and me, she’s always done what people told her, what they expected of her. When she’d gone I tried to bring him round, but it was no good, and I knew he was dead. I threw him into the river, and the sword-stick and the latch after him. And I sneaked up to the yard and took his car and ran for it. I thought I was taking the whole load of guilt away with me, and she’d be