Barbara Vine - The Minotaur

I told no one what I had discovered about the nature of Largactil, for I was sure the Cosway sisters would be uninterested and Dr Lombard take no notice or, more likely, be angry at my interference. I knew myself that I was being presumptuous, unlearned as I was in medical matters. Still, I watched John very closely, noting as one could hardly help doing that he was far more alert than usual, more human , occasionally speaking, trying hard to read, and at mealtimes arranging his own potatoes and carrots in patterns and slicing the tops off his eggs himself. I asked Ida about his sight – the other sisters never wanted to talk about John – but she looked unconcerned.

‘He can't see very well and his glasses aren't strong enough for him. Even if he puts them on you can tell he can't read the paper unless he uses a magnifying glass as well.’

This confirmed what I had seen myself. I lay awake a long time that night telling myself I must speak to Dr Lombard, whatever the consequences. The worst that could happen was that he would abuse me as a lay person presuming to teach a medical man his business, but surely I could bear that. I am afraid I eventually told myself that at least John was not taking the drug at present, perhaps would not even after Mrs Cosway came home if she were still incapacitated. She might even assume Ida or I was taking on this duty. So I said nothing and wondered many times afterwards if I should have, if my speaking out might have altered events. But I doubt it. I doubted it then and I do now. Only if John had made a miraculous recovery from his disease or disability or whatever it was, if he had suddenly got better and taken himself away would he not have been involved.

I went to see Mrs Cosway once while she was in the cottage hospital, accompanying Ella one evening. She seemed less than pleased to see us, which I attributed to Dr Lombard's being at her bedside. Without letting go of her hand, which he had been holding when we came in, he began telling us, though no one had asked, the origin of his name.

‘Lombard comes from the Italian “Longibardi”, the long-bearded, but I'm afraid you young ladies are in for a disappointment if you expect me to wear a long beard.’

Behind their backs, Ella cast up her eyes but I think she liked being included with me as a young lady. I have no more idea if his explanation for his name was true than I have for the accuracy of any of his strange irrelevancies. Leaving, he told us never to eat the liver of a polar bear, an eventuality possible only if one lived in the Arctic. The amount of vitamin A it contained was enough to poison us. Mrs Cosway said, ‘You know so much, Selwyn!’ and put up her face to be kissed.

On the way back to Lydstep Old Hall, Ella opened her heart to me. ‘I told Felix I'd come and see him this evening. After all, it's only eight. He said I could come if I liked and give the place a clean. He'd be in the pub. To be fair, I had offered to do some cleaning, it's in an awful state.’

‘Why can't he take you to the pub?’

‘He says I'll cramp his style. But this doesn't upset me as much as you might think, Kerstin, because I know he's beginning to depend on me. And he talks about the future, about me being there. I mean, he says things like he may go away for Christmas and it'll be good to know I'll be there to keep an eye on the place. The same if he goes to Spain next summer, as he sometimes does. He sees me as a permanency, you see.’

‘I do see,’ I said, marvelling at the man's effrontery and her acquiescence.

‘I would love to stay the night sometimes. Women always want that when they're in love, don't they? Just to lie side-by-side with him all night would be so wonderful. He says no, he can't share a bed with anyone.’

I had been invited to the Trintowels for the following day. It was my weekend off but in the circumstances everyone conveniently forgot this and I couldn't be bothered to remind them. I would take the next one instead when Mark would be back from his family wedding. I had much to tell him.

Going to White Lodge and spending the evening there showed me as perhaps nothing else could have what an ordinary English middle-class family was like by contrast with the Cosways. Not quite ordinary of course, for the Trintowels' was a big house, though not half the size of Lydstep Old Hall; they were obviously well off and both parents professional people. But they had about them what the Cosways, for all their efforts, so conspicuously lacked, a country Englishness, so that they had flowers in their garden, heating in their house, comfortable furniture, a kitchen modernized since the 1920s, a sense of humour, friends, and good manners.

Mrs Trintowel asked me to call her Jane. I did so and continued to do so up until her death thirteen years ago. She was warm and kindly without being effusive, a great talker and benevolent gossip, ‘a woman of a few words, a few hundred thousand words’, as her elder son, my husband, used to say of her. She was also bossy, a trait which didn't show itself to me until later. Her warmth put me at my ease immediately. I am not shy but at White Lodge I was not even diffident after the first few minutes. James's father made me laugh by saying as soon as we had shaken hands, ‘My wife is dying to hear all about the Cosways and so, I admit, am I,’ though it was the Trintowels who told me about them.

I had never realized – there was no reason why I should – the degree of curiosity with which the village regarded the occupants of Lydstep Old Hall or how bizarre the Windrosians found them. The Trintowels enlightened me. Everyone knew of the long love affair between Julia Cosway and Selwyn Lombard and vague threats were made (‘he said she said he was going to report him’) of alerting the General Medical Council to what was going on. Eventually Mrs Cosway left Dr Lombard's list and went to a doctor in Great Cornard but the rest of the family remained in his care. The resemblance to him of the youngest child had not passed unnoticed, the unfortunate nose being the giveaway.

‘Everyone knew, though no one talked about it much,’ Jane said, ‘for the child's sake.’

Ida had been engaged. She broke things off when it was discovered the man had a criminal record.

‘Robbery with violence and indecent assault, my dear.’

I said it seemed a curious combination, which made Gerald Trintowel laugh.

‘Julia Cosway found out. She put private detectives on to him, the man showed no outward sign of being anything but law-abiding. We met him, didn't we, Gerry? Can you believe it?’

I tried to be careful not to be indiscreet, always difficult with someone like Jane Trintowel. Reminding myself that these people were my employers and I lived among them, I thought I owed them some loyalty, at least not to disclose things I had seen and heard which could only be known by an insider and confidante. Perhaps I shouldn't even have listened. To avoid doing so in the company of these kind and hospitable people, about to give me dinner, was beyond me.

‘Ella is rather sweet, I've always liked her. She has tried so desperately hard to get married, coming on strong with one man after another…’

‘Come on, Ma,’ said James, ‘you can't possibly know that.’

She ignored him. ‘And then it's Winifred who finally gets engaged. Eric Dawson is fearfully dull but a parson ought to be dull, don't you think? He's nice as well. I hope they'll be happy.’

‘Kerstin is probably deeply embarrassed by you expecting her to betray her employers' secrets, you know.’ This was Gerald, shaking his head in halfhearted disapproval of his wife. ‘I've noticed if you haven't that she listens but she doesn't say much.’

‘She's just not a talkative person, are you, Kerstin? I mean, who talks as much as I do?’