Susan Howatch - Ultimate Prizes

As we entered my study that night he said almost before I had closed the door: ‘Will you think me intolerably impertinent if I offer you some paternal advice?’ and at once I said lightly: ‘You know very well I enjoy your impertinence – go ahead!’ But I was alarmed. I have an aversion to people in authority who dole out paternal advice. Such behaviour always reminds me of my Uncle Willoughby.

‘It’s about young Miss Tallent.’

‘Oh yes?’ I said, somehow contriving to remain cool as the temperature in the room appeared to soar to a tropical heat.

‘Yes.’ Alex, whose hatred of hypocrisy and endless crusades for truth had won him plenty of enemies during his episcopate, was hardly a man to be deterred by coolness. ‘Neville, next time you meet an alluring young woman at a dinner-party, don’t disappear into the moonlight with her for more than five minutes. And next time you meet Miss Tallent – if there is a next time – don’t disappear with her at all. I’m a great believer in the pleasures of an amitié amourcuse , but such friendships are best conducted with happily married women escorted by their happily married husbands. Dabbling with a fast little miss isn’t conducting an amitié amoureuse. It’s playing with fire and asking for trouble.’

‘Quite.’ To my fury I realized I was blushing; this unfortunate adolescent handicap is one which I have never quite managed to outgrow. Deeply embarrassed I turned aside to realign the photographs of my children on the mantelshelf.

After a pause Alex said tersely: ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but I always speak my mind, as you know, and on this occasion I’m speaking purely out of a concern for your welfare. You mean a great deal to me, Neville. I’m very fond of you – and I’d hate to see your career take a wrong turn.’

I was outraged. To spell out his affection – to indulge in sentimental utterances – to violate our delightful friendship by acting like some mawkish heavy-handed father – it was intolerable. Speech was quite beyond me. I could only grab the photograph of Grace and start polishing the silver frame furiously with my sleeve.

‘Don’t misunderstand,’ said Alex at last. ‘I’m sure the little escapade tonight was innocent. But where an attractive woman’s concerned any man – even a clergyman – perhaps especially a clergyman – has an almost limitless capacity for self-deception.’

I finished polishing the frame and set it back on the mantelshelf. Then I said in my politest voice: ‘I take your point. Thank you for your advice. Is there anything else you wish to say?’

‘Well, as a matter of fact there is.’ I should have remembered that when Alex was exercising his compulsive candour he was virtually unstoppable. ‘Can you tell me if there’s a financial reason why you don’t have a nursemaid living in to attend to my delightful godson in his more exuberant moods? Because if there is indeed a financial reason I hope you won’t be too proud to accept my offer of help. I’ve money to spare and I’d be happy to do anything which might ease the situation.’

Once more I was appalled. In my stiffest voice I said: ‘What situation?’

‘My dear Neville, I’ve been staying here for three days and I’m neither blind nor deaf! It’s patently obvious to me that Grace is at the end of her tether!’

‘Nonsense. I concede she’s a little tired at the moment because she’s still recovering from the Easter holidays, but now that the three older boys are back at school she’ll soon recover. Very good of you to offer help but it’s not necessary. No problems financially. No problems of any kind, thank you.’

‘Neville, I know you’re a proud man, but wouldn’t you find it helpful – just for once – to admit that everything in the garden isn’t quite as lovely as it ought to be? If Grace is so exhausted that she can barely cope with her domestic duties, how can she possibly deal satisfactorily with her responsibilities as an archdeacon’s wife? She deliberately evaded the dinner-party tonight, didn’t she? Well, as it happens that wasn’t a disastrous evasion, but what are you going to do when a really crucial engagement turns up, an engagement vital for the well-being of your career? Or in other words, how is Grace going to summon the extra energy she’ll need to keep up with you in the future? If you were to engage a nursemaid –’

‘That’s not what Grace wants. She couldn’t bear another woman constantly in the nursery.’

‘Then engage a full-time cook-general!’

‘That’s not what Grace wants either. She couldn’t bear another woman constantly in the kitchen.’

‘I’m getting rather tired of hearing what Grace wants! What do you want? It seems to me, judging from your behaviour tonight, that you’re beginning to feel short-changed!’

Somehow I managed to control my temper. I heard myself say in my most colourless voice: ‘You couldn’t be more mistaken, Alex. You’ve utterly misread the situation, but on the other hand, why should I expect you to read it correctly? The truth is no outsider can really know what goes on in any marriage.’

‘Well, that’s true enough,’ said Alex dryly, deciding to wipe the tension from the conversation by exercising his caustic wit. ‘No one knows the half of what’s gone on in mine.’ He turned aside but as he opened the door he was unable to resist the urge to proffer still more unwanted advice. ‘Deposit Primrose and Sandy with a kind neighbour,’ he said, ‘and take Grace away for a second honeymoon before you get tangled up with another fast little miss.’

‘There won’t be another fast little miss. Perhaps you can’t be blamed for drawing quite the wrong conclusions from my idiotic behaviour with Miss Tallent, but let me assure you now, once and for all, that Grace is a perfect wife and I adore her.’

‘Splendid! Very well, I’ll now stop overstepping the mark in my usual outrageous fashion and take myself off to bed before you try to hit me with those clenched fists of yours. Good night, Neville. God bless you. And do try to remember that I’ve spoken only with your welfare in mind …’

I was so angry with this cavalier attempt to meddle in my marriage that although I was tired I lay awake fuming for over an hour in the dark. I hated Alex thinking that Grace was temporarily less than perfect. I hated him telling me facts I already knew. And I hated him suggesting facile solutions when I knew very well that the problem was more complex than he in his ignorance supposed. I could not simply impose a cook-general or a nursemaid on Grace against her will. After all, it was she, not I, who would have to deal with the woman, and if Grace felt unable to cope with a stranger in either the kitchen or the nursery, any effort on my part to employ someone suitable would only be a waste of time. Also I knew from past experience that Grace interpreted my suggestions about employing additional help as implied criticisms of her ability to be the perfect wife and mother. Then no matter how hard I tried to reassure her that no criticism was intended, she became more depressed than ever. Eventually, I was sure, the problem would be alleviated when Sandy ceased to need constant maternal supervision and embarked on his career as a schoolboy, but until that golden moment when he skipped off to begin his first day at kindergarten, it seemed my best course of action was to help Grace by being loyal, loving and endlessly sympathetic. I had to make up my mind never to complain about her melancholy, never to reproach her for shying away from the social life she should be sharing with me and never, never, never to lose my temper. I was always mindful of the fact that Sandy could hardly have been conceived without my assistance, and if he was now complicating our lives I had a moral duty to ameliorate the situation by being a perfect husband.