Cushing's Crusade (7 page)

‘What a heavenly place,’ murmured Diana. She sipped her drink elegantly and asked, ‘How far is it to the nearest beach?’

‘Just through those woods,’ replied Charles pointing. ‘There’s a path of sorts.’

‘So you’ve got a private beach?’ she came back with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Derek felt his bitterness stirring again.
As though the man hadn’t already told her. Perhaps they were enjoying the mutual joke of her girlish admiration. How clever to have a private beach; did you make it yourself or have it built by a firm? Starfish and rock pools optional extras. So much better than a swimming-pool somehow, more natural and so few people have them. Giles nudged his father and whispered. ‘There’s no such thing as a private beach, not below the tide-mark anyway.’

‘If you can keep people off there is,’ Derek replied quietly and then, turning to Charles, ‘What do you do when people land from boats?’

‘They very rarely do, so there’s no problem.’

‘You could put down a boom like they did in the war to keep enemy submarines out of harbours,’ Giles suggested.

‘I don’t think I’d go that far,’ laughed Charles.

But if they came in a small armada of pleasure boats, what would you do? If they spread out their plastic forks and plastic knives, their plastic chairs and plastic wives would you let them? But of course they wouldn’t come because
they
don’t like solitude and empty beaches,
they
like crowds, beach shops, caravan parks and seaside amenities. Trippers are bored by beauty; only we, who spend weekends in comfortable houses and cottages, really appreciate the country and an isolated coast, and there are so few of us, we like to think.

‘I’d put down mines,’ said Derek with conviction, but Charles couldn’t have heard because he was on his way back to the house to bring out more drinks.

‘Do you imagine you’re being funny?’ Diana blurted out. ‘You’ve been behaving like an imbecile ever since we arrived. One minute you’re like an idiotic buffoon and the next making some snide and vicious remark. Are you jealous or something?’

‘I am utterly consumed; I covet most excessively but will not openly admire what I cannot have.’ See my horns, madam, am I not a jealous fool? Derek expected her to continue but instead she walked away towards the rockery.

‘I’m jealous too,’ said Giles. ‘Imagine having a house like this and masses of money. Did you see his car in the garage? He really must be loaded.’

‘I wasn’t being entirely serious,’ Derek replied.

‘You were being snide?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Mummy thought so.’

‘That’s her affair. Now stop badgering me.’

‘Just because I said it’s nice here, and it
is
nice.’ Giles gave Derek a wounded look. ‘I’m going to walk down to the beach.’

Charles came out again with a tray of drinks and Diana
rejoined
them.

‘Where’s he off to?’ Charles asked, pointing at Giles, who was jumping down the rockery.

‘The private beach,’ Derek replied.

‘Why not call it the beach?’

‘It’s shorter,’ Derek conceded, as Charles poured him another drink.

‘And I prefer it,’ Charles added.

‘Fine; it’s shorter and preferable and it’s where Giles has gone, is going.’

Charles was looking at Derek quizzically.

‘Why did you change your mind about coming?’ he asked.

To stop you fucking my wife, to keep at bay feelings which some days ago seemed to threaten my personal equilibrium, to …

‘Diana,’ he said abruptly; the truth, no doubt about it. Charles was looking puzzled rather than alarmed. Diana glared
menacingly
at her husband.

‘Diana?’ Charles repeated.

‘Yes, Diana. She went on at me so much that I had no choice; she used everything but the thumbscrews. But being a firm believer in family holidays, I finally allowed myself to be persuaded.’

‘Absolute rubbish,’ cut in Diana, trying to cover her anger with a light bantering tone. ‘He realized what a fool he was being and changed his mind. Nothing to do with me.’

Charles looked disconcerted and slightly embarrassed.

‘I shouldn’t like to think you felt obliged to come.’

‘Please,’ implored Derek. ‘No really, I’m going to enjoy myself‚
I assure you. I haven’t brought my shrimping-nets for nothing, you know. Wait till you see me in my striped bathing-trunks.’

Charles forced his mouth into a smile and took Derek’s arm.

‘Quite right; the main thing is that you’re here. I’ve been a bit strained recently. You understand how it is?’

‘Perfectly,’ answered Derek.

Charles clapped him on the shoulder and looked at his watch.

‘I’m going to have to check our supper. The woman who comes in is as bright as a spent match.’ Diana laughed loudly and Derek accompanied her in a lower key. The Cushing family’s famous laughing duet. Charles was momentarily taken aback, but, not to be left out, he joined in too.

‘Bright as a spent match,’ chuckled Derek. ‘Tries to cook things in the fridge, I suppose.’ The trouble one has with staff these days. Take our butler for instance….

*

Half-an-hour before supper: Diana in the bath, Giles still down on the beach and Derek wandering in the rough grass near the tennis court. Looking back towards the house he could see Charles glancing along the side of the house and then walking to the beginning of the drive. For a second Derek contemplated hiding behind the summer house, but, before he had time to do so, Charles had spotted him.

‘There you are. What on earth are you doing?’ he shouted.

‘Looking for phantom balls,’ Derek yelled back.

‘I know what you mean,’ said the approaching Charles,
nodding
towards the tangle of tall grass and weeds in the court. ‘They never played on it after the eldest son died in the trenches.’

‘Really?’

‘I meant that’s what it looks like.’

‘I’ll watch for ghostly players gliding through the grass.’

Charles was smiling sadly.

‘Derek, Derek,’ he said affectionately, ‘you didn’t think I expected you to give me the usual sycophantic balls about what a gorgeous house and all that. You’re one of the only people I know who’s honest with me.’

‘Tennis with sycophantic balls. That’s rather nice.’

‘I meant what I said,’ Charles replied reprovingly. ‘If I’d wanted some showplace to impress fools I wouldn’t have bought this. Just look at the garden!’ He threw up his hands. ‘But who wants beautifully manicured lawns with sprinklers spurting day and night and chauffeurs polishing cars in the drive?’

‘You sound like that song
Who
wants
to
be
a
Millionaire?
’

‘All right, I’ll spare you any more.’ A brief silence before Charles continued. ‘I was annoyed but not for any reason you imagine. Do you want to hear?’

Derek felt sick. How many times would Charles treat him to
sincere
talks and man-to-man honesty?

‘Tell me,’ he said.

‘It was what you said about family holidays; it brought home to me the fatuity of having a place like this without a family.’

Charles was separated from his wife and children. Go back if that’s how you feel, Derek wanted to say.

‘Won’t Anne let the children come?’

‘She wouldn’t let them stay more than a couple of days.’ Charles kicked at a tuft of grass and managed a rueful smile. ‘Enough self-pity. I thought I ought to explain why I was edgy. Subject closed, all right?’

‘Fine.’

‘I’m afraid I’ve got another apology to make. I had asked Otto Meyer and his wife. Do you know his collages?’ Derek shook his head emphatically. ‘Anyway for various reasons he couldn’t come. A pity because you’d have got on well. I tried to get several other people but no go; not surprising at this time of year.’

Derek nodded agreement. Like hell he’d asked other people.

‘I don’t mind if we’re the only guests,’ said Derek.

‘I wish you were. Angela turned up out of the blue a week ago; you remember sister Angela? Who’d forget. She left her husband last year and’s been sponging off me ever since. Not all the time but most of it. To crown it all she asked her new man without a word to me and had the gall to suggest that since I’d met him before I wouldn’t mind. He used to come and soak up booze at my private views and then write hostile drivel in
Studio 
Inter
national.
The galleries are dead, art objects are finished, that old line.’

‘I see.’

‘This morning I told her as tactfully as I could that he’d stayed long enough. Not a case of brilliant timing, I’m afraid.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She’d have to think about it.’

‘Awkward.’

‘I thought I’d better warn you.’

‘Have you spoken to either of them since?’

‘They went out early this morning, so I haven’t had the chance.’

‘I suppose I’d better get the stuff down from the roof of the car,’ said Derek after a brief silence. Charles nodded and they walked back towards the house. While the two of them took down cases and untied ropes securing Giles’s bicycle, Charles said, ‘I’d much rather your father stayed here. There isn’t a decent hotel in miles and the pubs are pretty terrible.’

‘I’ll ask him what he wants to do when he gets here.’ Derek lifted down the bicycle and rested it against the side of the car. ‘I’ve got to collect him tomorrow. Three something at Truro; I’ll have to check the time. I’m grateful you’ve been so good about it all. Diana was dead against his coming. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘I can’t see why. Say what you like.’

Derek could hear a car farther up the drive.

‘Trust them. Haven’t missed one meal since they’ve been here,’ muttered Charles. Derek thought of making a joke about the Last Supper but didn’t. Instead he picked up two cases and walked briskly towards the house before the car drew up.

*

Diana had dressed for dinner, not in her smartest clothes, it was true, but since Charles’s sister Angela was wearing a man’s shirt and a pair of faded jeans, Diana’s green dress decorated with beads and small glass panels seemed conspicuously fashionable. Between mouthfuls of soup Derek examined Angela’s friend Colin. A sallow angular face framed by long black hair; deep-set
eyes with well-defined creases under them, a sign of Angela’s nocturnal demands? A bright yellow T-shirt with an eagle,
probably
the American eagle, stamped on the chest. Three drops of blood fell from the bird’s beak. Silence while they drank soup. Derek concentrated on not slurping it. Diana always accused him of doing so at home. Giles was looking at Colin’s shirt.

‘A boy in my form’s got a shirt like that.’

‘They are mass-produced,’ Colin replied coolly. Derek was irritated by the slight sarcasm in his voice. At least Giles had been trying to start a conversation.

‘Normally of course it’s the pelican which is portrayed with a bleeding beak. I don’t know the medieval fable well, but it’s something about the female pelican feeding her young with blood from her breast. There’s some parallel with Christ’s shedding his blood for mankind.’ Derek gave Colin a donnish smile and
reapplied
himself to his soup.

‘I don’t see the relevance myself,’ Colin replied.

‘You must be a man of few words if they’re all relevant,’ answered Derek.

Charles laughed loudly and Angela joined in. Colin looked at Derek angrily.

‘If you mean do I bore people with academic marginalia at every possible opportunity, the answer is that I don’t.’

‘I didn’t mean that at all, so you’re the irrelevant one, old man.’ Derek wasn’t sure why he added the last two words; possibly an instinctive feeling that they would annoy him more. The effect was considerably more insulting than he had intended.

Angela turned to Derek and said quietly, ‘I suppose Charles asked you to be rude to Colin?’

‘Let him play with himself,’ cut in Colin derisively.

‘Are you suggesting that I ought to start masturbating?’ asked Derek mildly. Giles’s spoon stopped halfway between his plate and his mouth. Diana was studying the surface of the table.

‘Do what you like but just leave me alone.’

Derek nearly made a joke about mutual masturbation but restrained himself. Instead he smiled blandly. ‘It’s strange how many aggressive people wear anti-war shirts.’

‘That’s a pretty cheap generalization,’ said Angela in a flat matter of fact voice.

‘I’m a bit mean with my expensive ones.’

Giles laughed nervously but when nobody else did he blushed and pretended to scrape a last spoonful from his already empty plate.

‘Do you find it amusing to make jokes about people’s beliefs?’ Angela enquired with polite interest rather than anger.

‘Prig,’ exploded Charles. ‘Haven’t you ever told a joke about a Jew? Do you think Derek’s a mass murderer because he hasn’t got
Love
or
Peace
written on his clothes? I suppose it never occurred to Colin that Derek might feel strongly about medieval fables.’

Derek found himself grinning at Charles: an alliance of old friends. It was almost as though Charles had deliberately set up Colin as a target for a repetition of the vitriolic wit which had first drawn him to Derek when they had been at university together. And I fell for it, thought Derek with incredulity. No reason to dislike Colin. He hardly knew the man. The real reason for his irritation had had nothing to do with the wretched art critic. He had been angry because Diana had taken such trouble with her appearance. Charles and Diana should have been his targets. He ought unobtrusively to have taken Colin’s side but of course that was no longer possible. Charles’s cook, Mrs Hocking, had shuffled in and was removing the plates.

‘What delicious soup,’ said Diana brightly. ‘Did you make it, Mrs Hocking?’

Before the woman could reply Angela cut in, ‘Haven’t you heard of Porthleven crab soup? It’s tinned ten miles away. Every crab a Cornish crab, if that’s any consolation.’

When Mrs Hocking had gone, Charles murmured, ‘That wasn’t very tactful.’

‘God, how frightful of me. I’m terribly sorry.’ Angela gave her brother a look of grovelling contrition and then tossed back her head and laughed. ‘Tactful! I’m surprised you’ve got the gall to use the word.’