Childish Things. Robin Jenkins
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Название: Childish Things
Автор: Robin Jenkins
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9780857863768
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‘You will do what suits you,’ he said. ‘You always have.’
‘Don’t we all?’ But it was useless trying to joke with him.
‘You more than most,’ he said.
That accusation of selfishness was hard to take from a man who had put his own piddling little conscience before the saving of civilisation.
‘Even your own daughters distrust you.’
Though I was sure it was a lie, I was hurt and angered.
Of course, they had always preferred their mother to me, but they hadn’t given her all their love and trust. There had been some left for me.
‘When they were children, they had to go without so that you could swagger about in expensive clothes.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Kate told me.’
If he had driven a dagger into me, I couldn’t have been more wounded. I didn’t believe him, but the very insinuation that Kate had denigrated me behind my back was unbearable.
There had been a time, after the war, when we had found my teacher’s salary insufficient, but Kate had seen to it that the girls had not suffered.
‘She didn’t trust you either,’ he said.
Well, did she? Completely? Did any human being ever trust another completely? Yes. I had trusted Kate completely.
‘Did she tell you that she was leaving her share of this house to me, not to you?’
No, she hadn’t told me.
‘I intend to leave it to the SPC.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The Society for the Protection of Cats. I have more respect for cats than for my own kind.’
I felt like heaving a cat at him but instead I was witty. ‘They’ve certainly got more dignity.’
Even when committing rape or incest, they looked dignified.
‘She never forgave you for all those women.’
‘All what women?’
In 46 years of marriage I had been unfaithful to Kate only once: Chrissie Carruthers didn’t count. In Egypt, during the war, a thousand miles from home, and the girl, dark-skinned – what was her name? – had been made to understand from the beginning that she could never take Kate’s place.
I had often thought of confessing to Kate, but shame had prevented me.
I couldn’t deny that I was attractive to women. I knew what to say to them. They enjoyed my company. Kate had been amused but never jealous. She knew that I exalted her above them all.
‘You’re ill, Hector,’ I said. ‘You should see a doctor.’
His illness – was it cancer too? – had brought out his strong resemblance to his sister.
I stood up and put on my hat. Two cats impeded me. I felt like kicking them, to get revenge on their owner, but instead I bent down and stroked them.
‘Good night, Hector,’ I said, and left.
5
Some weeks later, a few days before I was to fly off to San Diego, Susan Cramond telephoned.
‘I’m thinking of giving a little farewell dinner party for you, Gregor.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Susan.’
‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic’
Well, what did I have to enthuse about? I was an old man who needed to piss oftener than was convenient or seemly. I had had my innings and, though I had performed with some style, I hadn’t scored all that highly, except perhaps for my Military Medal. My wife had died recently and I was finding out every day how much I had depended on her. I was afraid that my going to California might turn out to be a mistake. I kept thinking that I should have gone to India, to an ashram, where I could have mourned with honourable resignation and found forgiveness.
It was myself I had to forgive.
‘Who would you like me to invite?’ asked Susan.
Ignoring Hector’s opprobrious visage, I would have liked to nominate Mrs Cardross, manageress of Colquhoun’s licensed grocer’s in the mam street. Why? Because she reminded me of Kate when Kate had been young: tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed, smiling, gracious. But of course it was out of the question even to mention her name.
‘I suppose the usual bunch of boring old buggers,’ said Susan. ‘You can’t have the Tullochs, though. They’re scored off the list. He is anyway, and she wouldn’t come without him, the silly cow. To tell you the truth, it’s really her I can’t stand, flashing that arse of hers in every man’s face.’
I was dismayed. Naively I had assumed that Millie’s incomparable posterior had been admired by me alone.
‘Why is Bill scored off your list, Susan?’ I asked.
‘Haven’t you heard? It’s the talk of the town. The big bull’s taken his pizzle to new pastures.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s left Millie and got himself a new paramour. You must have seen her. She works in Colquhoun’s, in the main street, a shop you’re never out of. Fair-haired conceited bitch. She’s separated from her husband. Tulloch’s having to pay highly to get her to open her legs. She’s driving about in a new Volvo.’
I could hardly say it. ‘Do you mean Mrs Cardross?’
‘That’s the name. Mercenary whore.’
I could have wept. The tears would have been of self-pity and self-derision. I had been meekly content to touch Mrs Cardross’s soft hand when paying for my wine and receiving my change, while Tulloch the bull had been mounting her at will.
‘Does Millie know?’ I asked, feebly.
‘Of course Patient Grizelda knows. If you ask me, it’s the best thing that could have happened to her. She should have left him long ago. So they’re out. Your tearoom pals, I suppose. I hope Henry doesn’t shit himself as he did last time.’
‘You should insist, Susan, that we all bring our potties.’
She laughed. ‘Some of us can still make it to the lavatory. I’ve been wondering if you’d like me to invite your brother-in-law, Hector Liddell.’
‘If you did, Henry would be sure to shit himself. But why invite Hector?’
‘He was at the funeral. СКАЧАТЬ