Robert Goddard - Borrowed Time

“I hadn’t promised anything when she left. But I did try. The disgrace and the mockery a formal complaint by her could bring down on me was a sobering thought. It made me see reason. For a while, anyway. I wrote her an apologetic letter, saying she wouldn’t hear from me again. And I meant it. I really did. I went back to Cambridge after Easter determined to knuckle down to my studies and forget this ludicrous pursuit of an older woman.

“For a while, I almost thought it would work. But once my exams were over, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. A bloke I shared a landing with, Peter Rossington, said he was looking for a partner for an inter-rail trip round Europe that summer. You know, the cheap rail pass tour most students do at least once. Well, it was either that or Surbiton. Not much of a contest. I said I’d go with him and we agreed to set off early in July. Until then, I had nothing to do but laze around Cambridge and think. About Louise. About how I might still make her change her mind. About how I might yet persuade her to give herself to me, even against her better judgement. I stayed on till the bitter end of full term and was still there when the third year students came back to graduate. Including Sarah. Which meant Louise was bound to come to Cambridge as well. I wheedled out of Sarah which hotel her parents would be staying in. The Garden House. A big modern place on the Cam, behind Peterhouse. The graduation ceremony was on the last Friday in June. They were to arrive on the Thursday and leave with Sarah on the Saturday.

“I should have left on the Wednesday, of course. Or sooner. But I didn’t. I hung around, hoping for a glimpse of her. Maybe even the chance of a talk with her. Early on Friday morning, I started walking along the riverside path on the opposite side from the Garden House. Down past the hotel and back. Again and again. Hoping she might see me from her room, even though I didn’t know if they had one facing the river. Well, she must have noticed me and walked round from the hotel to confront me, because suddenly she appeared on the path ahead, approaching from the Mill Lane end. And she was angry. ‘Are you mad?’ she demanded. ‘You agreed to leave me alone. What do you mean by patrolling up and down like this?’ I pretended it was all a big mistake. I just happened to be taking a stroll there, with no idea she was staying at the hotel. It was obvious she didn’t believe me, but she couldn’t prove me a liar either. In the end, she just walked away. I ran after her, begging her to stop and talk. But she wouldn’t. I followed her all the way down Granta Place towards the hotel. Eventually, just inside the entrance, she stopped and rounded on me. ‘My husband’s waiting to have breakfast with me in the restaurant,’ she said. ‘Do you want to join us, Paul? Do you want me to tell him what’s going on? There’ll be no going back if I do.’ Well, I wasn’t ready to confront Sir Keith. Not then. Not just like that. Her bluntness shocked me. I mumbled some kind of apology and beat a retreat.

“But it could never be a permanent retreat. I hung about the streets, watching the procession to the Senate House. Then I slunk round to the Backs and spied on the lunch party at King’s for graduates and parents. I caught a glimpse of Louise, looking radiantly lovely. Sir Keith was with her, of course. It was the first time I’d seen him. Naturally, he looked completely unworthy of her to me. I crept away and left them to it. I was utterly miserable by then. Depressed and disgusted with myself. Yet I was still so much in love with her I simply couldn’t put her out of my mind.

“They left next morning. I spent the weekend drinking. And formulating a plan. I was due to meet Peter in London on Wednesday. That gave me two days when I might be able to get Louise on her own. I didn’t know whether she’d be in Sapperton or London, so I decided to hedge my bets by going to Sapperton first, on Monday. I drove over there that morning. Arrived about eleven o’clock. Parked near the church. Spied out the land. Tried to think exactly how to approach her.

“I was sitting in my car at the end of the lane leading to The Old Parsonage when Sarah came past, returning from a stroll, I suppose. I didn’t see her coming and she spotted me straightaway. I trotted out some story about visiting an aunt in Cirencester and diverting to Sapperton to see if Sarah was free for lunch. Well, she seemed to be taken in by it. Nobody else was at home, apparently. She suggested we drive to a nearby pub. And I had to go along with it now I’d started, so off we went. To the Daneway Inn, down in the valley below Sapperton. It wasn’t exactly a relaxing occasion. I think Sarah was puzzled. Worried, perhaps, that I might want to start things up again between us. Maybe that made her nervous. And talkative as a result. Whatever the reason, she told me more about her family than she probably realized.

“Sir Keith was in London. But Louise had gone over to Kington to visit Oscar Bantock. ‘She sees quite a lot of him,’ Sarah said. ‘I suppose there’s nobody else she can discuss Expressionism with.’ I didn’t make anything of it at first. Sarah was going to Scotland at the end of the week for a holiday with some other lawyers from King’s. Her parents were off to their villa in Biarritz at the same time. Rowena would join them there when her school broke up for the summer. All very cosy and convenient.

“We had some tea back at The Old Parsonage. Then I left, not sure what to do next. But, driving back to Cambridge, I suddenly saw the answer. Louise hadn’t told anyone about me. Why? Because she felt sorry for me? Or because she was afraid her husband mightn’t think she was a wholly innocent party? Maybe he already had grounds for suspicion. About Oscar Bantock, perhaps. Or somebody else. Maybe they weren’t the devoted couple she’d claimed.

“It’s strange, but I think I could have eventually accepted her rejection of me if I’d gone on believing she was a faithful wife. It was the idea she might not be that got to me. If she was going to betray her husband, the warped logic of my mind said it ought to be with me. Not with some derelict old painter or God knows who else. She wasn’t being fair. She wasn’t giving me a chance.

“I didn’t go back to Sapperton. With Sarah there, it was just too risky. Besides, I didn’t need to. She’d told me where I could find her mother. All summer long. I met up with Peter in London on Wednesday. We set off for Europe the following day. We spent a long weekend in Paris, then headed for Italy. I said I wanted to stop off in the French Alps, knowing Peter was champing at the bit to see Florence and Rome. After an argument in Lyon, we agreed to split up. He went on to Italy. I made for Chamonix. Well, that’s where I told him I was going. Actually, I returned to Paris and caught a train to Biarritz.

“I arrived there late on Thursday the twelfth of July. Booked into a cheap pension near the station. Next day, I tracked down L’Hivernance and hung around, hoping to see Louise leaving on foot. Or Sir Keith leaving, so I’d know she was alone. Nothing. Except they drove out together in the early evening. Heading for some posh restaurant, I assumed. I gave up. But I was back the next day, determined to be more resourceful. After I was sure everything seemed quiet, I scaled a wall round the side and crept through the garden towards the house. There was nobody about. But, as I got closer, I heard voices coming from one of the open ground-floor windows. Closer still, I recognized one of them as Louise’s. The other was Sir Keith’s. They were arguing. I can’t tell you what pleasure-what hope-that gave me. If they were going to split up, I might catch her on the rebound.

“I never did get close enough to hear exactly what was said. But it was obvious Sir Keith was angry. He mentioned Bantock. ‘That bloody dauber,’ he called him. And he said he was leaving next day. ‘So what you do is your affair, isn’t it?’ I couldn’t catch Louise’s answer. She spoke more softly than him. Kept her anger in check. Anyway, some gardener showed up then, so I had to run for it. By the time he spotted me, I was disappearing over the wall.