Simon Brett - A Shock to the System

He waited for the end of this spasm of self-hatred before he spoke. ‘I still don’t understand why you’re saying all this. You said you wanted to know whose side I’m on. I’d like to know what the alternatives are.’

‘All I’m asking is: do you like Lilian?’

It did not require a lot of thought to answer that one.

‘Right. Good. Which means you’re on my side.’

‘I still don’t understand, Charmian.’

‘There are no half-measures with Lilian, no truces, no alliances. Either you’re for her or against her.’

‘Well, we’ve established where I stand.’

‘Yes. So my next question is: Do you want her looking after your children, repeating what she did to Merrily and me in another generation? She’s already started on Emma, I could see that at the cremation, already she’s training her into a “little woman”, teaching her the rules of alternating blackmail and collapse, the system of militant pathos by which she’s always run her own life. God knows what effect she’ll have on Henry, but I can’t think that it’ll be for the good.’

‘No.’

‘So do you really want her to look after them?’

‘No, of course not. It isn’t settled yet, what’ll happen to them. Obviously, it’s going to be difficult for me, being at work most of the time, you know. .’

‘Yes. Listen, Graham, I have a proposition to put to you. Let me look after the children. Let them come here to live with me.’

‘Charmian — ’

She raised a hand. ‘No, hear me out.’ Which was just as well. It wouldn’t do for him to accept the offer with too much alacrity. He should hear out her justifications, make some pretence of assessing the proposition. It didn’t look good for a new widower to abandon his children with too much enthusiasm.

‘Graham, I know some of my motives may be suspect. I know I was jealous of Merrily having children and no doubt I want to take hers over because I will never have any of my own. Also my career’s not going well, and maybe I fancy the option of doing less and staying at home to look after children. And I don’t know how good I’ll be at it. The only things I do know for certain are that I love the children and that, whatever I do, being brought up by me will do them less harm than being brought up by Lilian Hinchcliffe.’

Graham’s mind was working fast. This was better than he had dared hope. If Charmian took the children off his hands, then he could sell the Boileau Avenue house and buy the service flat he so yearned for. With Merrily’s death, the mortgage would be paid off, so whatever he got for the house would be pure profit. Of course, if Charmian was going to give up work, he would have to support her, have to pay her maintenance for the kids. .

Her voice broke into his calculations. ‘I’m sorry, Graham. I’m going too fast. I shouldn’t have rushed in. You need time to think about it. Or perhaps you think what I’m suggesting would break up your family completely. .’

He gave a little, confused shake of his head.

‘Perhaps you think I should be offering to come to the house, as a kind of housekeeper. But I can’t see that working, Graham.’

‘No.’ His voice still sounded puzzled.

‘I can’t really see us as a foursome,’ she continued with her customary bluntness. ‘I’m just talking about the children.’

‘Yes. I understand that.’ But he didn’t sound as if he understood.

‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like this. Maybe you don’t want Henry and Emma to leave the house. Maybe you’d rather get in some sort of professional housekeeper. .’

Oh no, that sounds expensive, thought Graham. His mind was absolutely made up, but the scene, he knew, required some token prevarication.

‘I’m sorry, it’s a bit sudden. .’

He looked at Charmian. The grey eyes were tense, dependent on his response.

What she had offered made excellent sense from every point of view. She had a core of common sense which the rest of the family lacked, and her current feud with her mother was bound to minimise Lilian’s influence.

Once again he felt the strange need to confide in her, to confess his murder — no, he wasn’t doing himself justice — his two murders. He felt a need for outside commendation. Again he missed his parents. He knew it was idiotic, but he wanted to phone them, to hear their impressed and reverent silence as he described his latest success. In his parents’ absence, Charmian seemed the most likely person to give him the reaction he needed.

He felt very drawn to her. Sex played no part in the attraction. Sex was now a vague recollection from his past, like a journey walked daily to school, presumably important at the time, but instantly forgotten once discontinued.

Charmian’s grey eyes looked sympathetic. She had said she always hated Merrily. She had said she would like to shake her sister’s killer by the hand. Graham wanted to see the eyes light up with surprise and admiration when he told her of his achievement.

‘Charmian, there’s something you don’t know. .’

‘Yes. What?’

He suddenly realised what he was about to do, and stepped back from the brink. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t. . I’m confused. .’

Again she misread the cause of his incoherence.

‘I know it’s a shock. Take time. Let the idea sink in. Think about it. Or ask me any details you want to know.’

‘Yes. yes.’ And with the broken delivery masking the baldness of the question, he asked, ‘What about money?’

‘Money?’

‘Yes. I mean, if you were to look after them, you couldn’t do it for nothing.’

‘Ah, I see what you mean. Yes, I had thought about that.’ She had. Sensible woman. She had thought it out in some detail and she presented her suggestions with clarity. The appeal of the idea to Graham increased. It would move the obligation to his children to that area of contractual agreement he so favoured.

But the greatest appeal of Charmian’s proposal lay in how little she was asking. With no mortgage repayments and the children mopped up by such a modest monthly outlay, he was going to be quids in. True, there were school fees, but they couldn’t possibly get to their current schools from Islington, and he recalled with relish that Charmian was a great advocate of State education. Still, time enough to sort that out.

He felt light-headed. He couldn’t believe with how little effort everything was working for him. That the force of Charmian’s hatred of her mother should be channelled so conveniently was pure serendipity. What she had offered him completed his desires. He had removed his wife from his life. Charmian was proposing to do the same service for his son and daughter. And, incidentally, for his mother-in-law.

All was quiet when he returned to the Boileau Avenue house. He had taken a taxi all the way, feeling he deserved a little pampering and celebration. He had contained the urge to leap about and shout for joy until he got home.

Inside he found the post, which had been neglected in the upheaval of the cremation. Amongst other less important items was a letter from the broker through whom he had arranged the mortgage.

From a flurry of condolence, one hard fact emerged. The letter confirmed that, following the tragic death of his wife, the outstanding mortgage on the Boileau Avenue house would be paid off by the insurance policy.

It had all worked. Graham poured himself half a tumbler of Scotch and, drinking it, began to laugh, softly at first. But as the tensions of the past weeks, of the old man’s murder, of Merrily’s murder, of the inquest, the cremation, drained out of him, the laughter increased in volume.

He was aware after a time of the door being opened and of Lilian’s bemused face framed in the space. Hers was soon joined by the shocked faces of Henry and Emma.