A Quiet Life(95)

‘Well, if you don’t want to eat, shall we go into the living room for coffee? The rest of us have been sitting here long enough.’

At least as they went through, the pattern of the guests reformed. Now Laura was sitting between Monica and Suzanne on the sofa, and she recognised their obvious wish to help salvage the evening, as Monica started telling Suzanne some pointless but amusing anecdote about her daughters. As conversation filled the room, Laura wondered if some pleasure, some little hope of civilised interaction, might now take over.

‘I never thanked you for those lovely pictures you sent over,’ Monica said at one point to Laura. ‘You know that Laura does such good photographs – do show them to Suzanne.’

‘I’m sure she won’t be—’

‘I’d love to see them,’ said Suzanne, as she had to, so that Laura felt it would be gauche of her to refuse. She went to get a big folder that lay on the table under the window, where she had put some of her favourite recent prints – oddly, they were all of mothers and daughters, of Ellen and Janet, and Monica and her girls. Suzanne looked at them with what seemed like more than the appearance of appreciation.

‘You are good, aren’t you? Look at the light in her hair. Not easy, capturing a child’s expression like that. Have you ever thought of doing it professionally?’

‘Laura just likes to photograph for fun,’ Edward said. ‘She likes watching people.’

Laura felt that there was some kind of antagonism in his voice, and yet what did he have to be antagonistic about? The feminine circle had become porous to the men again, and Nick started to tell another smutty anecdote in a voice so loud that the women had to listen too.

‘I’m off home,’ Monica said as it was finishing, standing up. ‘I am sorry but I have to be up early with the girls tomorrow.’ It was rare for Monica to break up a gathering – she was usually one of the last to leave. Laura felt the evening must have curdled beyond repair if she was going.

‘Do you just have girls?’ Nick asked her, with a look of innocence.

‘Yes, two daughters.’

‘But little boys must love you so much. You are just the kind of woman that we were all in love with at school, weren’t we, Edward?’

‘Am I?’ Laura could see that Monica was flattered. Maybe she would stay, maybe she would enjoy the charm that Nick could turn on if he wanted to please.

‘Yes, look, let me do you a sketch.’

Nick went stumbling over to the desk and picked up a pen and paper. As Suzanne went on talking to Laura about her photographs, he was drawing. Laura saw it just before he handed it to Monica: a caricature of Monica as a school matron, with her breasts hanging out of her dress, and a boy lying in bed holding a huge erection.

Monica and Archie were too English and, perhaps, too sorry for Laura, to be obviously angry when they saw what he had done. They simply went on moving out of the room, thanking her for a nice evening. Laura went into the hall with them, and as Monica went to the bathroom, Archie looked at her. She could not bear the pitying expression on his face. ‘You’ve a lot on your hands there, haven’t you?’ he said, and as Laura made a dismissive expression, he unexpectedly put his hand up and casually, almost as if he were brushing away a piece of dust, touched her cheek. It seemed an intolerable moment to make, as it seemed to Laura, a pass at her, and she stepped backwards, knocking a vase on the sideboard to the ground.

‘Let me help.’

‘No, please, do go.’ Laura was picking up the pieces, so was he, and she was the first to see the blood on his fingers. ‘You’ve—’

‘It’s nothing.’ He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the cut.

‘We should wash it.’

‘No, it’s fine.’

Laura could see how embarrassed he was, and when Monica came out of the bathroom she let them go – one offended, the other injured – and she went back into the living room. She caught Suzanne’s eye as she came in and Suzanne responded, getting up and saying, ‘Actually, we should be going too.’

‘Must we?’ Joe said, frowning. ‘But Nick, you must have realised that if you brought a negro to your hotel you would—’

To Laura’s relief, Suzanne prevailed and they left. Edward and Nick started having a blundering discussion about whether they were going to a nightclub.

‘No, we’re going to bed, I’m afraid, Nick,’ Laura said.

‘Must I go drinking alone? My first night in Washington?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

As soon as the door shut behind him, Laura found her anger spilling out of her; it was uncontrollable. ‘This was your idea, this dinner, and couldn’t you even come back on time? Why were you so rude? Why didn’t you tell me about Sutton?’

At the mention of Sutton, she suddenly thought of the devils that might be driving Edward to behave as he had that evening, and she reached a hand towards him, but he shrugged her off so forcefully she staggered backwards.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and pulled her back to him, and began to drag her dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. For the first time ever Laura pushed him away, reacting against the clumsy touch of his hands and the smell of alcohol on his breath.

‘Good God!’ he shouted and picked up the first thing that came to hand from the mantelpiece and threw it at the wall – it was only one of those small bowls of roses, but now it was broken, and the water was a puddle on the carpet, and then he walked out of the room and into the hall.