One Day in May - Catherine Alliott [167]
I stared, astonished. ‘No, Christian. Of course not.’
He shrugged. His mouth sagged theatrically at the corners.
‘And of course this man Hal, you owe him even more, hm? Owe him huge amounts. He look after Seffy this whole year, guide him through traumatic time. Be there for him. And Seffy, he like him very much, yes?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered.
‘He be good father figure, too. Good influence, good role model. Successful lawyer, yes?’
‘Yes.’ I was answering as if in a trance, his watery old eyes holding mine.
‘And this sister, Cassie, maybe you owe her, eh? And the mother you wronged – Letty. Give them back a family. So whole sorry mess come good, come full circle if you marry Hal. Whole thing make sense of the past, n’est-ce pas? All boxes ticked, with this Hal.’
I looked down at the ground.
‘Except one,’ he added softly.
I held my breath.
‘Do you love him?’
I felt the ground crumble a little beneath me. Couldn’t answer.
‘Do you, Hattie?’
I glanced up quickly. ‘Love. Love.’ I spat it. ‘I’m thirtynine years old, Christian. I’ve made a pig’s ear of everything so far—’
‘You don’t deserve love? Is that what you say?’
I stared. ‘Yes. Yes, OK, that’s what I say. Sometimes other things take precedence. Like – like duty, honour—’
‘Capitulation, compromise. You don’t love this man, but you settle for him. But he a good man, Hattie. You do him a great disservice to marry him, hm? You remember that.’
He fixed me with his eyes for a moment. Then turned and went back through the French windows into the house.
‘You’re wrong, actually, Christian,’ I shouted after him, when I’d found my voice. ‘He’s spent most of his adult life waiting for me, putting his life on hold. He’s been engaged for years, but didn’t marry because of me. I do him a great service!’
He turned. Came back. His eyes no longer watery: they were like flints. ‘And how long it last, hm? This charity marriage? How long till you no bear the sight of him?’
I was having difficulty breathing. I blinked rapidly. We stood there in the dusk.
‘I can’t, Christian,’ I whispered at length. ‘I’m in too far. Too deep.’
‘You can,’ he said, more gently. ‘You can, or you never get out.’
I took a breath. Let it out shakily.
‘But then it’s just me again.’ I gulped. I thought of Maggie and Ralph. My sister, all my friends. ‘Me, on my own again. Seffy will be going off to university, and I’ll be—’ I stopped. My breathing was shallow. ‘I’m frightened, Christian.’ The first honest thing I’d said. And the truth does surely ring. ‘I’m scared. Of this house, of the shop, of being alone. Spinster of this parish. I’m so afraid.’
His face softened. He held out his arms. I walked into them.
‘He is my friend, Christian,’ I pleaded into the tweedy lapel of his jacket. ‘My very good friend. Has been for years. He’s not just anyone.’ Tears were welling now.
‘It’s not enough,’ he said firmly. ‘Not enough. Courage, mon amie. You will be all right.’ He gave me a squeeze. ‘Quite all right.’
33
Hal listened in silence when he got back from Geneva. It was late, and he was tired, and I hadn’t wanted to tell him then: had wanted to wait until morning, but he’d seen my face. He sat by the window in a tubular steel-framed chair, still in his suit, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the space between his feet as the light faded in the tall windows behind him. I hadn’t faltered. I hadn’t even cried. I’d got through it quite eloquently for me, albeit quietly. And it had sounded surprising rational. Maybe because, as Christian had said, it was the truth, finally echoing in this huge room, ringing around the chandeliers, the modern art on the walls.
‘You don’t love me,’ he said finally, flatly. It was the one thing I’d left out.
‘No. At least… not in that way.’
‘There is only one way, Hattie.’ He looked up at me, and not in his habitual way that made me feel small, guilty, as if I didn’t quite match up: that reproachful way that made me feel as if I was still in a gymslip. Just sadly. ‘Only one way, and that’s the way I love