Майкл Ридпат - The Diplomat’s Wife

He was leaving me all alone.

‘You are going to throw over all your beliefs, Hugh, just like that?’ I was shouting now. ‘What about me, Hugh? What about me?’

‘What about you?’ said Mama sharply. ‘This has nothing to do with you. Behave yourself!’

‘All right then, Hugh. What about you?’

Everyone stared at me. Including Hugh. The others were staring in incredulity, but Hugh understood, and I could see he was ashamed.

I wanted to scream at him. A voice at the back of my head started to yell, and I wanted to open my mouth to let the sound out. My eyes stung; I could feel the tears coming.

I couldn’t bear the humiliation of crying at my brother’s betrayal of me.

‘I’m sorry, please excuse me,’ I said, pushing my chair back and rushing from the room.

I didn’t sleep well, and I was awake when the world outside my bedroom curtains turned from black to grey, although when I drew them, the clouds had all gone and the sun was peeking over the moor.

I expected I would be the first down to breakfast, but I passed Hugh on his way out, clutching the flat cap he wore when driving.

‘Morning, Emma,’ he said with a tentative grin.

‘Morning.’ I tried to sound non-committal, but it probably came out sullen.

‘I’m off to Okehampton. I’m convinced there’s a problem with the carburettor, but they can’t spot it in London, so I’m going to try Wilkins. If anyone can find it, he can.’

‘Right you are,’ I said unenthusiastically. I am interested in a lot of things, but I have never been interested in car engines.

I kept moving towards the breakfast room, but Hugh stopped me. ‘Ems?’ He grabbed my sleeve. ‘Ems!’

I turned to him.

‘Look. I’m sorry. I really am.’

I met his eyes. I could tell he was indeed sorry.

And so he should be.

I brushed his hand away, and went in to breakfast.

I was concerned that Mr Meeke wouldn’t appear at the stables, given my behaviour the night before, but he arrived fifteen minutes after me. Jonny the groom got Tallow ready for me, and Merlin for Mr Meeke, and we set off through the woods behind the Hall. It was a glorious morning. No sign of the clouds of the day before, and the clearing skies had brought a light brush of frost. The birds seemed happy: blackbirds, thrushes and robins were yelling their heads off, with a woodpecker somewhere deep in the wood providing a percussion accompaniment.

‘Can we go up on the moor, do you think?’ Mr Meeke asked.

‘If you like,’ I said. ‘It will be lovely up there this morning.’

We left the wood and cantered across an open field to a bridle path that would lead us up and on to the open moor. Mr Meeke was graceful on a horse, and Merlin took to him.

‘Do you get the chance to hunt much?’ I asked him.

‘No. That’s the problem with being a diplomat, and the child of a diplomat. I have spent my entire life in capital cities. It’s why I like to get out when I can, and hunting blows away the cobwebs.’

‘You ride well.’

‘Thank you. I learned in Vienna when I was a small boy. They know how to ride there.’

‘Did you see the Lipizzaners?’

‘Many times. And they are more beautiful in the flesh than they look in photographs.’

‘Have you ever ridden one?’

‘Sadly, no.’

‘I’d love to go to Vienna,’ I said.

‘You should. Can’t you get your parents to send you? I’m sure I could arrange someone for you to stay with. But then I’m even more sure your mother could.’

‘She could if she wanted to,’ I said. Mother knew everyone. She spent at least half her time up in London, often leaving Papa behind at Chaddington.

‘I assume it was she who invited you down here?’ I asked.

‘Oh, yes. Jolly kind of her, really.’

I glanced at him. Did he realize why she had invited him?

He smiled at me. ‘I enjoyed meeting your brother last night. Nice chap. I’m sure he will do very well in the FO.’

I returned his smile. Of course he realized; Mr Meeke was no fool.

‘I’m so sorry I made such a frightful idiot of myself last night,’ I said. ‘I hadn’t thought about it until just now, but Mama will be furious with me for telling you Hugh is a communist. Or was a communist.’

‘I doubt your brother will need my help. He seems very capable.’

‘Yes, but you should know that when he says he has given up on communism, he really means it. That’s what has got me so upset.’

‘But you are still a believer, I take it?’

I glanced at Mr Meeke to see whether he was teasing me, but he seemed to want to know the answer. So I told him. I told him what I thought about Marx. What I thought about Lenin. How I longed to visit the Soviet Union. How I admired Beatrice Webb and Rosa Luxemburg. How I admired the Austrian Schutzbund. And how I hated our own National Government.

He listened. He asked me questions. He knew a lot.

‘But does it matter to you if Hugh has changed his mind?’ he said. ‘You don’t have to change yours.’

‘I know. I know I rely too much on my brother. In fact, he said just the same as you. Hugh has taught me virtually all I know. He has made me who I am, and I’m grateful for it. But now I feel as if he has abandoned me. I know it shouldn’t, but it just makes me angry. So very angry.’

‘I see,’ said Mr Meeke. ‘But he’s still your brother. He’ll always be your brother.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, he will. I’m just being silly.’

‘No. I can see how important he is to you. You’re not being silly.’

We climbed the flank of Dartmoor, rising high above where Hugh and I had walked the day before. Eventually, we reached the top. On one side, Dartmoor stretched out bleak and desolate, folds of grass and bog scattered with its famous tors, stacks of stone that had been dumped on the moor by a long-forgotten giant. On the other, we looked out over the hedgerows and wooded valleys of Devon towards Cornwall and Bodmin Moor in the distance. Thin February sunshine brought golden life to the leafless trees and bracken below us.

‘See that tor over there?’ I said, pointing to a cluster of rocks about three-quarters of a mile away. ‘I’ll race you.’

Tallow and Merlin were usually evenly matched, but Mr Meeke urged Merlin ahead of my mare, without using his crop, I was pleased to see. The speed, the countryside beneath me, Tallow’s muscles at full stretch invigorated me as they always did. We zipped past the tor, and I pulled up next to Mr Meeke, whose clever smile had turned into a broad grin.

‘God, I love this!’ he said.

‘So do I.’

‘Are you hunting on Thursday?’

‘I don’t hunt any more,’ I said. ‘I used to really enjoy it, but I stopped last year.’

‘That’s a shame. It would have been fun to ride out together.’

‘We can do that anyway,’ I said. ‘Papa would never believe this, but I’ve discovered it’s perfectly possible to enjoy riding a horse without killing a fox at the end of it.’

‘But what about the thrill of the chase? You can’t deny that’s real.’

I did know it was real. ‘It’s true: I do miss the thrill. But I never enjoyed seeing the hounds tearing foxes apart. And one day I realized I couldn’t pretend all that needless bloodshed wasn’t happening.’

‘But don’t you think it’s natural? For man to hunt an animal? That’s why it is so exciting; we’ve been doing it for millennia.’

‘I think it’s natural to hunt an animal for food. But not for sport. Or it’s natural in the same way it’s natural for men to be cruel, that it’s natural for men to demand the death of a gladiator in the ring. Natural isn’t necessarily right. Is it?’