Canarino. Katherine Bucknell

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СКАЧАТЬ felt bewildered. He had no idea there was a stream. ‘What about the swimming pool, then?’

      ‘They haven’t found that yet.’

      ‘Well, you’ve got to stay with them all the time, Elizabeth.’ David felt angry suddenly; he hardly knew why. Through helplessness, maybe. He pictured them, white-clad, wading, unattended, but he had no idea what the farm looked like.

      Elizabeth yawned, a delicate kitty-cat yawn, then wider, gaping, throwing her head back like a lioness. ‘Norma’s going to be in the hospital for a few days at least. I have no idea what shape she’ll be in when she gets out. Maybe useless! It’s a complete nightmare.’ She put a hint of melodrama in her voice, exaggerating on purpose to lighten David’s anger, to make him laugh.

      ‘There must be some nice local woman who could help out?’ David tried to be practical. ‘It’s summer; what about a college kid or even a high-school kid?’

      ‘Oh, God, and then I have to interview them, train them! It’s so time-consuming,’ Elizabeth wailed in self-pity, half-mocking, then chuckled dryly.

      This was their married banter. David had to offer suggestions, although they both knew she would reject them. The solution had to be her own. It was a game. Comical. Cynical.

      ‘Maybe you should have gone to Nantucket?’ David was cautious.

      She was dulcet-toned but dismissive. ‘It’s a little late for that.’

      ‘Well, at least you wouldn’t be all alone.’

      ‘I’d much rather be alone!’ Now her lament was authentic. ‘The way people drop in on you there. No privacy. Having to make conversation all day long at the beach, or at that awful little yacht club. Those old ladies who ask me about your parents and your sisters!’

      She paused. She had begun to whine and she knew it. She collected herself and taunted David with a domestic point, as if she were, after all, considering his idea. ‘Anyway, we have no place to stay now on Nantucket.’

      To her surprise, he took her up on it, calling her bluff. ‘I’m sure you could rent something if you offered enough money.’

      ‘And who’s going to organize that?’ She had to struggle to get out of it.

      ‘You’ve hired a secretary, haven’t you?’

      ‘She’s new, David. I’d have to tell her what I wanted. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.’ She laughed in triumph, and David laughed, too, at the absurdity of this truth—Elizabeth’s exhaustion. At a certain point, giving one more instruction was impossible for Elizabeth.

      Then suddenly he asked, ‘Why’d you make me sell that house, Elizabeth?’ His voice went throaty with an odd, pleading fear. He wouldn’t have brought it up again if he hadn’t been drunk—drunk and, even after six months, awash in a tide of regret and confusion. He couldn’t believe that they had sold the house—no matter what Elizabeth’s feelings. ‘Now that we’ll be back in the States,’ he added defensively, as if to justify his question, ‘we’d use it so much more often.’

      Elizabeth didn’t answer. There were things she wanted to say, or at least had once wanted to say. But it was, indeed, too late to say them now. The house had been David’s family’s house; she and David had first gone there in the role of children. And even though David had bought the house from his sisters after his mother died, it was still full of childhood, of his past that was not her own past, of primordial energies Elizabeth could never control or even make terms with. Nantucket, she was thinking, was the last place she herself had felt like a child. Vulnerable, hopeful, in the extreme. As she would never be again. She and David had opened a wound between them there, and she had believed—what?

      The wound had never healed, anyway. It had only hardened. Like so many grains of sand, clammed up inside her, layered over and over with hardness—shiny, luminescent, made beautiful simply by the hardness and tenacity of her will to make things beautiful. Childhood was not a safe place. Not for children, not for anyone. She and David had needed to put childhood behind them. She could remember lying on David’s boyhood bed last summer, waiting, hoping for someone—David?—to do something, to save her, and she had thought, Stop this. She had decided there and then to take responsibility for her side of their bargain. Childhood, Nantucket, the whole toy town had to go.

      There had never been a chance to explain this to David. It was almost as if they had never been alone together since then. And time had raced on uncontrollably, childhood, middle age, disillusionment, on toward the grave. What did it matter? None of it was relevant anymore. She told him none of it now.

      Finally, he broke the silence. ‘You know one of my sisters tried to rent the house for a couple of weeks. New owner wasn’t interested. Couldn’t have cared less.’

      Elizabeth said, ‘That’s not my problem, David. And it’s not yours either. The house didn’t suit us.’

      Very little did suit Elizabeth and David as it turned out. Later, when she reflected on it, Elizabeth considered that the Nantucket house had been only the beginning. By the time it was actually sold, in January, she had begun to see just how far she might go. A whole new vision of her life.

      ‘Why don’t I just come over, Elizabeth? Tomorrow. Surprise the children. We can work things out together, about Norma.’

      Elizabeth was embarrassed. ‘Oh, God, no! I’ll manage,’ she said lightly. ‘Concentrate on work. That’s what we agreed. I enjoy being with them, watching over them.’ She felt a little afraid when she said this. As if she had volunteered to drive a long distance alone at night in severe weather. But she knew it was the right thing to say, and she was determined to do it—to watch over them. To enjoy them.

      ‘We’ve had a long day,’ Elizabeth said, ‘that’s all. We’ll be fine here once they—get settled.’

      But David didn’t let the game drop. ‘Don’t you think the kids’ll miss the beach? The ocean? It must be fucking hot where you are.’

      Elizabeth was silent. She found David’s language surprising sometimes.

      ‘I could come over for a weekend or two, if you were in Nantucket, Elizabeth. At least I’d try. It’s summer. Summer means—the ocean.’

      She disagreed. ‘The children have acres to roam right here, David, and nobody to bother them. There are woods and fields. They don’t have to compete with anyone else; they can just be free, be children. Have their own thoughts, play their own little games.’

      David’s mind was wandering. He was thinking about his sailboat. Had it been sold along with the house? Or was it still at the boatyard? He’d like to get it put out on the mooring—just in case. Maybe Elizabeth would be willing to send the children up by themselves for a weekend. They could stay in a hotel. Rent an old jeep. He thought about the water and the sky, the cold, tangled seaweed that slapped on the wooden hull when you pulled up the moorings. The azure, dimpled waves.

      ‘David?’

      He started. ‘I guess I fell asleep.’

      ‘Go to sleep, then. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

      She was murmuring, ever so soothingly, he thought. It felt to David like she was next to him, in the bed. Like she was kindly. Telling him to do as he liked, to rest. СКАЧАТЬ