Night Over Water - Ken Follett [174]
He looked shocked. “All right, all right,” he said irritably; then he composed himself and became mild again. “I’ve been thinking about some of the things you said. About me. How I became cold toward you. How miserable you’ve been.”
He paused. Diana said nothing. This was not like Mervyn. What was coming?
“I want to say that I’m really sorry.”
She was astonished. He meant it, she could tell. What had brought about this change?
He went on. “I wanted to make you happy. When we were first together, that was all I wanted to do. I never wanted you to be miserable. It’s wrong that you should be unhappy. You deserve happiness because you give it. You make people smile just by walking into a room.”
Tears came to her eyes. She knew it was true; people did love to look at her.
“It’s a sin to make you sad,” Mervyn said. “I shan’t do it anymore.”
Was he going to promise to be good? she wondered with a sudden stab of fear. Would he beg her to come back to him? She did not want him even to ask. “I’m not coming back to you,” she said anxiously.
He took no notice of that. “Does Mark make you happy?” he said.
She nodded.
“Will he be good to you?”
“Yes, I know he will.”
Mark said: “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here!”
Diana reached across and took Mark’s hand. “We love each other,” she said to Mervyn.
“Aye.” For the first time, the hint of a sneer appeared on his face, but it passed quickly. “Aye, I think you do.”
Was he going soft? This was not like him at all. How much did the widow have to do with the transformation? “Did Mrs. Lenehan tell you to come and speak to me?” Diana said suspiciously.
“No—but she knows what I’m going to say.”
Mark said: “I wish you’d hurry up and say it.”
Mervyn looked scornful. “Don’t push it, lad—Diana’s still my wife.”
Mark stood his ground. “Forget it,” he said. “You have no claim on her, so don’t try to make one. And don’t call me lad, Grandpa.”
Diana said: “Don’t start that. Mervyn, if you’ve got something to say, come out with it, and stop trying to throw your weight around.”
“All right, all right. It’s just this.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not going to stand in your way. I’ve asked you to come back to me and you’ve turned me down. If you think this chap can succeed where I’ve failed, and make you happy, then good luck to you both. I wish you well.” He paused, and looked from one to the other of them. “That’s it.”
There was a moment’s silence. Mark was about to say something, but Diana got in first. “You bloody hypocrite!” she said. She had seen in a flash what was really going on in Mervyn’s mind, and she surprised herself with the fury of her reaction. “How dare you!” she spat.
He was startled. “What? Why ... ?”
“What rubbish, saying you won’t stand in our way. Don’t you condescend to wish us luck, as if you were making some kind of sacrifice. I know you only too damn well, Mervyn Lovesey: the only time you ever give something up is when you don’t want it anymore!” She could see that everyone in the compartment was listening avidly, but she was too riled to care. “I know what you’re up to. You had it off with that widow last night, didn’t you?”
“No!”
“No?” She watched him carefully. She thought he was probably telling the truth. “It was close, though, wasn’t it?” she said; and she could see by his face that she had guessed right this time. “You’ve fallen for her, and she likes you, and now you don’t want me anymore—that’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it? Now admit it!”
“I’ll not admit any such thing—”
“Because you haven’t got the courage to be honest. But I know the truth and everyone else on the plane suspects it. I’m disappointed in you, Mervyn. I thought you had more guts.”
“Guts!” That stung him.
“That’s right. But instead you had to make up a pitiful story about not standing in our way. Well, you have gone soft—soft in the head. I wasn’t born yesterday and you can’t fool me so easily!”
“All right, all right,” he said, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’ve made a peace offering and you’ve spurned it. Please yourself.” He stood