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One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [149]

By Root 1513 0
skin straining. My breathing became shallow, and it occurred to me I shouldn’t be on my own. What might I do? Nothing. Don’t be stupid, Hattie, you’re not that brave. I held on to the sink, temples throbbing. Listened to the quiet of the huge house, which was never really quiet: the distant rumble of the washing machine in the laundry, the peacock, shrieking on the lawn outside like a distressed child, the ticking of the long-case clocks in the hall, the endless creaking – there must be thousands of old floor-boards and panels, all of which realigned occasionally, so that at any one time the house seemed to groan, as if it constantly sighed, folded its arms, rearranged itself. I heaved one up myself. Of self-pity? I hoped not. I deserved none. It occurred to me I should have gone to the pub, was once again ducking the moment, not facing Seffy, but I knew I wouldn’t be capable of polite conversation. Knew we both needed some distance. Another floorboard creaked, but this time it couldn’t just be an ancient floorboard, it had to be perpetrated by a footstep. I turned.

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

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