Уильям Николсон - Motherland

‘I just want you not to drink so much.’

‘Right, then,’ he says. ‘That’s easy. I won’t drink so much. What else?’

‘That’s all.’

‘You wouldn’t like me to be a better husband? A better father? A better human being?’

‘No— ’

But something has come over him that she’s never seen before: a darkness contorts his face, and all at once he’s raising his voice, speaking sharply.

‘I am what I am, Kitty. I can’t change. It’s no good. I always knew it would be no good.’

‘But Ed, what are you talking about? What’s no good?’

‘I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t do it.’

He’s shaking, almost shouting, but not at her. She watches him in terror. He’s acting as if some invisible force is binding him, and he’s fighting to set himself free.

‘I don’t want you to be anything,’ she says. ‘Truly, truly.’

She tries to touch him, to soothe him, but he throws her off with a violent gesture that shocks her.

‘No! Get off! Get away from me!’

‘Eddy! Please!’

She feels the tears rising to her eyes. But the worst of it is, she still feels angry with him. Why is he behaving like this? Why has it somehow become her fault?

He picks up his half-full glass of Scotch and drinks it, gulping it down. Then he holds out the empty glass for her to see.

‘You want to know why I drink too much? Because it’s better for you if I’m drunk.’

‘No!’ she says. ‘No! It isn’t better for me!’

Suddenly her anger comes flooding out.

‘I hate the way you tell me you’re doing it for me. You’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for yourself. You’re doing it to run away. That’s just taking the coward’s way out. You’ve no right to do that. Why should you run away and leave the rest of us to clean up the mess? It’s not fair. It’s not right. We’re all worn out by this vile winter, it’s not just you. Stop being so sorry for yourself, for God’s sake! Make a bit of an effort for once, can’t you?’

He stares at her in silence. Kitty feels the anger drain away.

‘Please,’ she says in a gentler voice.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘You know what I need? I need some fresh air.’

With that, he walks briskly out of the room.

Kitty sits down in the armchair in the corner and wraps her arms round her body and shakes. This is where Pamela finds her.

‘Look,’ she says, holding out her basket. ‘Four eggs.’ Then aware of the masculine nature of the room, ‘Where’s Daddy?’

‘He’s gone out.’

‘But it’s still snowing.’

‘I don’t think Daddy minds the snow.’

Ed returns later, and makes himself busy building a fire in the big drawing room, one of the rooms that has been closed off to save heat. He says nothing to Kitty about their argument. He comes and goes with the manner of one who has too many tasks to do to stop and talk. Kitty feels sick and miserable and doesn’t know what to do.

Louisa comes to her as she sits by the fire in the Oak Room.

‘What on earth is Ed up to?’ she says. ‘He’s pushing the furniture about in the drawing room.’

‘I’ve no idea,’ says Kitty. ‘We had a bit of a row earlier.’

‘Oh, I’m always having rows with George,’ says Louisa. ‘You’re allowed to have rows when you’re married.’

‘I don’t like it,’ says Kitty. ‘It frightens me.’

Then Ed himself appears.

‘I’ve got something to show you,’ he says to Kitty.

She follows him across the hall and through the anteroom to the drawing room. Here a cheerful fire is blazing, and there are candles glowing on all the side tables, throwing their soft light onto the red damask walls. He has moved the sofas and chairs to one end, and rolled up the carpet. A gramophone stands ready on the table by the door.

‘What’s this, Ed?’ says Kitty, looking round. The shutters are open on the tall windows, and outside the white light of afternoon makes a strange contrast with the amber light of the fire and the candles within.

‘Our ballroom,’ says Ed.

He pulls the lever on the gramophone that starts the turntable spinning, and lowers the arm with the needle onto the disc. The sound of a dance band fills the room.

‘Would you care to dance?’ he says, holding out his hand.

Kitty takes his hand, and he draws her into his arms. The high clear voice of the singer begins, and Ed and Kitty dance together, holding each other close.

If I didn’t care

More than words can say

If I didn’t care

Would I feel this way?

They dance in a slow wide circle over the bared floor, from the windows to the fire. Kitty rests her head on his shoulder and feels his breath on her cheek and wants to cry.

If this isn’t love

Then why do I thrill?

And what makes my head go round and round

While my heart stands still?

He lowers his head to hers and they kiss as they dance. When she looks up again she sees Louisa standing smiling in the doorway, with Pamela beside her.

If I didn’t care

Would it be the same?

Would my every prayer

Begin and end with just your name?

And would I be sure

That this is love beyond compare?

Would all this be true

If I didn’t care

For you?

When the song finishes they come to a stop and stand by the fire in each other’s arms.

‘My Ink Spots record,’ says Louisa. ‘I love that.’

‘Why are you dancing?’ says Pamela.

‘Because Daddy wanted to,’ says Kitty.

‘I want to dance,’ says Pamela.

So Ed puts the song on again and dances with Pamela while Kitty and Louisa watch. The little girl frowns with concentration as they dance, trying to make sure she moves in time. Ed dances with his daughter, one arm on her shoulder, one hand holding her hand, looking down to make sure he’s not treading on her toes, handling her with grave gentleness. Kitty feels almost more full of love watching him dance with Pamela than when she was in his arms herself. He has said nothing about their row, and nothing needs to be said.

The heaviest snowfall of that long hard winter comes near the end, on the first Tuesday of March. The blizzard rages all that day and night, and into Wednesday. Once again the men of the village set out with their tractors and shovels to clear the roads, grumbling to each other that the bad weather will never end. But as the next week begins, suddenly the thaw sets in. The air turns mild, and the snow that has lain so stubbornly for so long over the land starts at last to melt.

Ed travels up to London as soon as the trains are able to run again after the blizzard. There is still snow on the Downs as he leaves. Then comes several days of heavy rain, and the last of the snow disappears, leaving the land grey and waterlogged.

The postman returns to his rounds, bringing a letter from Larry.

I’ve accepted a place on Mountbatten’s staff and am off to India! By the time you get this I’ll be gone. I’m not at all sure what I’m to do, but it feels like a good time to be out of England. I’ll write and tell you all about it when I’m settled in. I hope you’ve all survived this foul winter and when we meet again there’ll be sun over Sussex.

Two York aircraft carry the viceroy-designate and his team to India. The second plane containing chief-of-staff Lord Ismay and most of the new appointments, including Larry Cornford, takes a slower route, stopping overnight at Malta, Fayid and Karachi. On the way Ismay and Eric Miéville, the chief diplomat on the mission, speak openly of the difficulties ahead.