One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [149]
The door opened and Kit wandered in. Barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt.
I stared. ‘Oh. We thought you’d gone.’
‘Gone where?’ He yawned sleepily, ruffling the hair on the back of his head. He crossed the room.
‘With Maggie. Biba said you’d gone to London with her.’
He frowned, padded to the sink and ran the tap, reaching for a glass. ‘No, I just helped her take her bags to the car. She’s been here for ages, had loads. Anyway, I hate London.’
‘Yes, I know. But I thought you two…’ I trailed off.
He turned, rolled his eyes. ‘Give over. You’re as bad as Mum, and I thought I could at least count on you and Laura. Have they all gone?’
‘Yes, two minutes ago, to the pub. Luca’s going to be all right.’
‘I know. I heard Biba telling Mum. I was in the room next door.’
Right. But didn’t burst in and say, ‘Wow – great news! What a relief !’ Didn’t get involved. Just listened; digested, and was quietly pleased. My little brother, who never invested. Never emoted. I don’t know how I could ever have imagined him with Maggie.
‘Great, isn’t it?’ he mused, reading me. ‘A priest who can’t get involved. Father, I have sinned, and let me tell you how – no, no, my son, I’m afraid I don’t do feelings. Can’t advise you.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘At least I’m not Catholic. Don’t actually have to preside over confession. Saint Augustine would not be impressed.’
He knocked back the glass of water. Then set the empty glass on the draining board; gazed bleakly at it.
‘You do listen to your parishioners,’ I said quietly. ‘I know you do. Give great comfort.’
‘Do I?’ He shrugged. ‘Not sure. I mean, yes, I listen, but most of me shrinks from it, deep down. Always has done.’
‘I know.’ In self-defence. ‘I’m the same, Kit.’
‘No you’re not,’ he said softly. He turned his back on me and looked out of the window. ‘You feel everything very keenly. You just can’t express it to others. Can’t tell them how you feel. I don’t even feel it.’
‘Feel what?’ This was surely the deepest my brother and I had ever got.
He shrugged. ‘Love? You know. Stuff everyone else feels. I’m deficient in the Emotive department.’ He made ironic quotation marks in the air; gave a wry smile. ‘But, hey, why be gloomy? Not everyone’s got all their faculties, have they? Look at Luca, poor guy, without a proper arm. Or Sheba.’ He nodded at the cat dozing on the window sill. ‘Stone deaf. It’s only a minor disability, the one I have.’
‘What about God?’
He frowned. ‘You mean, do I love him?’
‘Yes.’
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, there you are then. Eminently capable.’
He smiled. ‘Yes, here I am, then. Although, he might quite like me to love others, don’t you think?’
‘Not if you have to force it. Dissemble. You’re true to yourself.’
He looked at me properly. ‘You make it sound very noble, Hatts, but actually, it’s more to do with fear. I can protect myself this way. I know what it will cost me in equilibrium, you see, and I’m aware I’m not robust enough. Know there’s not much to spare. So I’m economical