Paul had felt like patting him on the head when he came out with that, the way you pat a child who has just worked out a simple equation or how to spell c-a-t. ‘Good boy, Reverend, good boy,’ he’d felt like saying, ‘you’re starting to figure things out by yourself.’
Of course Paul hadn’t said anything; he was too busy laughing at the man’s incompetence.
‘Compromise is not the same as defeat.’ He hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud.
‘Sorry?’ asked Beth.
‘It’s what I always tell my clerks,’ said Paul. He put a slice of lamb on Edie’s plate, ignoring her protest, and a slice on Beth’s. He put two slices on his own.
Of course what had really got in the way of his little talk with the Reverend was Edie. He looked over at her; she was playing with her food.
‘For goodness sake, Edith, stop chasing that pea around the plate.’ She looked at him. He’d hurt her, he shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. ‘Chase all the peas you want, love,’ he said and got up and took yesterday’s papers from the paper basket and buried his nose in The Courier. It was four broadsheets and took up a good deal of space on the table — he had to push his crockery out of the way — and if he read he didn’t have to think about Lucy. Oh Lucy. But he couldn’t help thinking about her. If she was at lunch she’d be giving him her look for reading at the table. But she was lying down, and it was his fault and he’d check on her soon. But he turned to the page with the cablegrams and pretended to be more engrossed than he was, building an invisible wall of ‘don’t disturb me’, because he knew that Edie badly wanted to interrupt him.
‘Papa?’
‘Hmmm,’ here it comes, he thought. He’d never get his few moments of relief with the paper. He watched as she swallowed the last of her stewed apple whole, gulping it down like a dry piece of steak.
‘Papa,’ she said again.
‘If it’s about Hooley, you don’t need to prep me,’ he said.
‘Well, what are you going to say to him?’
He sighed. He just wanted to read his paper. He didn’t want to think about his only child being claimed by that tall, too quiet man who was nearly half her age again. Edie’s chin was out, that was a bad sign. He’d never get any peace. He folded the paper and put it on the table.
‘I suppose that first of all I shall warn him about your persistent temperament, your stubbornness, the way you put your nose in the air when you’re cross — which you are too often, and the way your chin juts out when you’re determined to have your way — which you always expect. I shall warn him that unlike most women you always speak your mind whether it’s needed or not, and that if he persists in marrying you he shall never have a moment’s peace.’ He smiled at her worried face and added, ‘And then I shall say it’s up to you because you’ve never listened to anything I’ve ever said anyway.’ He stood up, dodged her swipe at him and pushed his chair into the table. ‘I’ve got to go to the office for a few hours.’
‘Working on a Sunday?’ asked Edie. ‘What if Theo comes by?’
‘Theo already, is it? Then send him down to the office.’
‘What are you going for?’
‘I have to go and prepare my speech for tomorrow night’s meeting at the Mechanics Institute,’ he said, thinking he might also finish the paper. ‘If we’re to build a new nation, Edith, it must not be built on the backs of factory workers and miners — they’re a sorry bunch, being paid tributes instead of decent wages. As if you can feed families on tributes! I had a fair mind to walk out of the Reverend’s sermon this morning, I was that riled. I can only hope the rest of the congregation took as much notice of the Reverend’s words as you did, Edie.’ And he ducked another swipe. ‘Well, you know where I’ll be,’ he said.
‘But what about Theo?’
‘What about him? I already said — send him down to the office.’
‘But Papa, he might not want me if he has to walk to the office,’ she said, sounding six years old.
‘If a three-block walk puts him off, Edie, then he’s not worth having.’
‘Four — it’s four blocks.’
‘Well, if it’s four blocks then we can test his commitment and stamina at the same time.’ Paul picked up The Star from the basket, rolled it and The Courier together and tucked them under his arm as he walked to the door. Damn that man for wanting his daughter. He’d miss her terribly when she was married.
Paul stood at the door of his wife’s bedroom. She was asleep, lying in her clothes on top of the made bed, her arms flung above her head, her dress falling over the side of the bed in a waterfall. He watched the tides of her body rising and falling. It was quiet. Not a sound except her breathing. He knew she was too old to be going through this and the guilt made his chest begin to hurt as if a bluestone block was sitting on top of it. She was so thin, she hardly showed. He’d seen her body through the bathroom door; she was like a twig bending
