Elizabeth Edmondson - Voyage of Innocence

‘Well, there’s nothing wrong with sharing a bed.’

‘My pet, when I say go to bed together, I don’t mean they doss down for a sound night’s sleep. It’s for sex, for heaven’s sake.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

Vee’s upbringing had been sheltered, but she still felt she had a reasonable grasp of the facts of life. Books, a chatty maid and earnest discussions with her more sophisticated friends at school had sorted it out for her – or so she thought. Of course, it was a taboo subject for her parents, as it was for most of their generation. More out of embarrassment than principle, she thought.

‘I expect your mother was going to tell you about men on the eve of your wedding,’ said Claudia. ‘And she wouldn’t think to mention about men’s other tastes. Perhaps she doesn’t know, I’m sure my mother’s a terrific innocent about that kind of thing.’

What about Hugh? He’d been to public school. Only Hugh never talked about sex or love or anything like that.

‘Maybe there are men like that, but Hugh isn’t, what did you call it? Queer. He’s perfectly normal.’

‘My pet, of course he’s queer, everyone knows that. He’s had a tremendous thing going with Giles, why do you think they share a set?’

‘Most of the men share sets. It’s how they room at men’s colleges. They’re old friends, from school.’

‘Yes, and some are friends, and then there are those for whom two bedrooms aren’t really necessary.’ Claudia took Vee’s arm, and drew her out of the way of an angry student on a bicycle. He swept past them, ringing his bell in violent disdain. ‘You can’t tell me you didn’t know.’

Vee felt as though the world had just opened and spat her out. Hugh in bed with another man, for sex? It was inconceivable. ‘And disgusting, I don’t know how you can say such things, Claudia.’

‘They don’t find it disgusting at all, they like it, or they wouldn’t go to bed together.’

‘I don’t know how you can bring yourself to say such things.’ Vee broke away from Claudia, desperate to escape from these awful revelations, and plunged into the traffic, causing a delivery van to stop with a squeal of brakes and a stout woman cyclist to swerve and nearly come off.

‘Vee, I’m sorry,’ Claudia called after her. ‘Honestly, I’d never have said anything if I thought you didn’t know about Hugh and Giles. I mean it’s as obvious as the nose on your face.’

Tears were pricking Vee’s eyes as she whirled round to shout at Claudia. ‘Not to me it isn’t.’

Claudia caught up with her. ‘That’s because you’ve led such a sheltered life in the Deanery, didn’t the girls at school talk about it?’

Vee had bitten her lip in her agitation, so hard that she’d drawn blood. She dabbed at her mouth with the back of her glove.

Claudia put a hand out to touch her cousin’s stiff shoulders, but Vee shrugged her roughly off.

‘Well, it’s as well I’ve enlightened you. You’d have found out sooner or later. Ignorance and innocence aren’t the same, and ignorance can get you into terrible scrapes.’

The glory had gone out of the day, and Vee stalked through the lodge at Christ Church with her head held high and her stomach churning. She walked unseeing past the Custodians in their habitual bowler hats, and almost ran across Tom Quad, wanting to get away from Claudia. Past the great Wren Library, unnoticed, even in the beauty of the reflected late-afternoon light. She dashed over to Staircase Three, but there she stopped.

She didn’t want to see Hugh. Not after what Claudia had said. To do that – what exactly – with Giles? No, Claudia was making it up. It was one of these fancies she’d picked up from her strange London life. Her brother was potty, who was to say that Claudia didn’t have a loony streak as well? Vee wasn’t going to believe her, and that was that.

The outer door, that they had learned to call an oak, was open. Inside, Hugh was stretched out on a sofa in front of the blazing fire, a pipe in his mouth, fanning himself with a copy of the Spectator . He leaped to his feet, and came over to give Vee a hug.

She shrank away from him, hating herself for doing so. This was Hugh, her brother, not some monster conjured up by Claudia, damn her.

‘What’s up, old thing?’ he said. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. If you thought you did, don’t worry, it’s probably just Bartlett, my tutor, he’s been dead for centuries, only no one’s noticed yet. Giles, buck up over there and yell for Tewson to bring tea.’

Tall, exquisite Giles. She stared at him, her mind still unable to cope with Claudia’s bombshell.

No, Claudia had got it all wrong, at least about her brother. Perhaps one or two men might be like that; all right, she could accept that. Although she hadn’t said so to Claudia, there had been talk at school about Oscar Wilde. And what did men do, two of them? She drew back from these uncomfortable anatomical thoughts and went over to the window.

The quad outside was half in shadow, half glowing in the autumn sunlight. That was like her, she thought, she’d been walking in the sun, and now the shadows had caught up with her. Unreal shadows, things of the darkness of the night and restless dreams, and no more substance in them than such phantasms had. Curse Claudia, for even suggesting such a thing.

Giles came over to her with a cup of tea, and as he went back to the table, Vee saw him touch Hugh lightly on the shoulder. Hugh turned and smiled at him, a smile of such sweetness and affection that there could be no doubt at all about the intimacy that existed between the two men.

The cup and saucer slipped through her fingers; the delicate porcelain smashed in pink and white chips on the dark wooden floor, tea splashed on to the carpet.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said mechanically. ‘How clumsy of me.’

‘The Dresden is wasted on you, Vee,’ said Hugh. ‘It’ll be an enamel mug next time. Tewson, we’ve had a spillage, come and see to it, would you? Giles, pour out another cup for Vee, and this time, for heaven’s sake hold on to it. Have a biscuit, that’ll soothe your nerves, I never saw you so on edge. That’s what education does to a girl, I see how right all the misogynists are.’

This Hugh was almost a stranger to her. The brother she’d grown up with at the Deanery seemed to have vanished, to be replaced by this new person, a person she knew nothing about. Was this the brother she had confided in, moaned about their parents to, shared jokes with, laughed with when he did his merciless drawings of York notables, the brother who laughed when she did an imitation of the senior clergy wresting the tall palms from each other’s grasp on Palm Sunday, in an effort not to have to carry the small and weedy ones?

The memories crowded into her head, a jumble of images and voices.

That was the brother of her childhood, of the Deanery, of times that had gone. Here, in front of her was the man, with his own life, his own feelings – and his own attachments. To Giles.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, putting down the fresh cup with a bang. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘Not in here,’ said Giles. ‘Down the stairs, turn right before you get to the door. Claudia, do you want to go with her, to hold her head?’

‘No,’ said Claudia. ‘Leave her alone, she’s just had a bit of a shock, that’s all,’

‘Oh?’ said Hugh, enquiringly.

‘Nothing you two need to know about,’ said Claudia.

As Vee stumbled down the stairs towards the lavatory she heard Claudia talking.

‘Are you going to cut the cake? Is anyone else coming to tea? I feel like meeting some new people.’

‘I hope John Petrus may drop in,’ Hugh said. ‘Brilliant man, Fellow of Balliol, and …’