Rachel Cusk - In the Fold

‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about,’ said Lisa.

‘Michael’s saying that he thinks we ought to be able to be what we want to be in a world that includes men,’ said Caris. ‘Perhaps he thinks we’re storing up unhappiness for ourselves.’

‘I just don’t think you can last,’ I said.

‘There’s no reason why we should. Needing to hang on to things is part of the problem.’

‘What about love? What about affection?’

‘You see!’ said Caris triumphantly. ‘That’s why we don’t let in men — they’d be telling us to relax —’ she assumed a collapsed position on the sofa ‘— and to stop being so uptight!’

‘But what about it?’

Caris sat up and smiled mysteriously. ‘I love my sister and my sister loves me,’ she said. ‘Besides, there are plenty of people who don’t get love and affection in their marriages. Look at Vivian, for pity’s sake.’

‘If you ask me,’ intervened Lisa, ‘Vivian’s brought that on herself.’

‘Anyway, what does it matter?’ said Caris. ‘We’re more than just our sex, you know — we campaign, we do environmental projects, we get involved in justice issues.’

‘It sounds like a laugh a minute,’ said Adam from the kitchen.

‘Right now,’ said Caris, for some reason consulting her watch, ‘loggers are ripping down primeval rain forest in Tasmania and dousing the land with napalm. Does that not mean anything to you?’

‘Not really,’ said Adam, who had joined Lisa at the threshold. ‘Why should it? It’s happening on the other side of the world.’

‘Well, it matters to me. We’re petitioning everyone in our area and sending the signatures to the Australian government.’

‘Somehow,’ said Adam, ‘I don’t think you’ll stop them.’

‘We might!’

‘All you’re doing,’ said Adam, ‘is causing yourself unnecessary pain.’

I wondered where I had heard him say this before, and remembered it was in the hospital.

‘And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? On the list of things that have caused me unnecessary pain, you’d come out just about at the top!’

‘I think I’ll go and get the children’s tea on,’ said Lisa, in her ‘discreet’ voice. ‘Are you coming, Hamish?’

‘Oh come on,’ said Adam. ‘Not that again.’

‘He broke my arm,’ said Caris, to me. ‘He knocked out two of my front teeth. He gave me a cracked rib and concussion, not to mention bruises all over my legs.’

‘It wasn’t broken. It was fractured.’

‘It was broken, damn you! From the age of three to the age of sixteen,’ said Caris, fixing my eyes with hers, ‘my brother systematically physically abused me. From before that, for all I know.’

‘Caris,’ called Lisa distantly from the kitchen, ‘I really don’t think you ought to make those sorts of accusations.’

‘He locked me in the wine cellar where there were rats. He pushed me down the stairs. He tied me to a tree and threw tennis balls at me.’

‘That’s just what children do!’ protested Adam.

‘He shut me in the boot of dad’s car. He hit me with his cricket bat.’

‘Caris, I think you should stop,’ said Lisa from the doorway. She crossed the room and took the baby from Caris’s lap and returned to the kitchen. ‘Everyone’s mean to their brothers and sisters,’ she said, from the doorway. ‘I really think you should just get over it.’

‘Well,’ said Caris, ‘he’s your problem now, not mine.’ She rose from the sofa. ‘Sorry to mess up your evening,’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘You obviously don’t want me here so I’ll go.’

‘Do you want me to call you a cab?’ I said.

‘Oh, it’s still light,’ she said. ‘I’ll walk.’

I followed her into the hall.

‘Don’t be angry,’ I said.

She stood outside on the drive with her arms folded and her head tilted away. I felt sorry for all the time that had passed.

‘It’s all true, you know,’ she said. ‘I’m always surprised when that doesn’t make a difference.’

She was gone in a few smart crunches of gravel before I could say anything. I closed the front door behind her. From the kitchen I heard Lisa say:

‘Do you think Caris is a lesbian?’

I went upstairs and for the first time since my arrival in Doniford I took my violin out of its case and began to play. I played most of the repertoire we went through during our Friday evenings. At first the sound was loud and harsh but gradually it grew more rounded, as though it were working itself into the stiff walls and carpet and rendering them pliant. I must have lost track of time, because when I became aware of Lisa standing in the doorway the window was full of the purple light of evening. She was smiling. In the dusk her face had a bronzed look from which her hair and teeth glowed with an avid, slightly sinister whiteness. She had her arms folded and her head cocked to one side.

‘That’s really nice,’ she said. In her ‘discreet’ voice she added: ‘The thing is, I’ve just put the baby down and I’d really like her to go to sleep.’

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ll stop.’

The next day was Saturday. Beverly was taking the day off, so we agreed to work the late-morning shift while she and Brendon did the night. This meant that we didn’t need to get to the farm until eight o’clock and had to stay through until noon, which is how I came to witness the extraordinary scene that took place amongst the Hanburys that day.

For the first time, I was left to sleep until it was light. It was a luxury for which I expected myself to be grateful after the days of hard, dark, four o’clock risings, but when I opened my eyes to the grey, established daylight I discovered instead that I had been served with the unmistakable summons of despair. It was as though thoughts of my wife had formed a sort of crust or skin around me while I slept. On opening my eyes I received a startling impression of my own bondage to these thoughts; I was encased by them, to a point that apparently precluded physical movement. I realised that by getting up early all these mornings I had cheated the part of my constitution that needed time and stillness to form the fog of feeling. Lying helpless in bed I let the grey light run in its doomy legions over me. Eventually I heard Hamish rustling in his sleeping bag, and for some reason I prayed for him not to wake up yet, for it seemed unbearable to me that I should have to confront him in this state: but he did wake up. I was aware of him laboriously getting to his feet, as though he were the first human. The quivering top of his blond head and then his face appeared beside me.

‘Hello,’ I said.

‘Hi,’ he said.

I said, ‘We’re going home soon. Tomorrow maybe. We’re going home to see mummy.’

Hamish assumed a neutral expression, like a priest hearing a particularly gruesome confession.

‘I bet you’ve missed her, haven’t you?’

He nodded. As far as I knew Rebecca had not once telephoned to speak to Hamish; nor to me, as it happened, although I had been able to mask this omission by telephoning her myself. I had tried vainly to reach her the night before, which was doubtless one cause of my current prostration. The message on her mobile phone annoyed me so much that it caused feelings of actual hatred to course through me, not for Rebecca but for the phone itself, as though it were holding her hostage and repeatedly releasing the same fragment of her. I imagined smashing it, banging its square little face against a rock until its casing fell apart and then prising out its metallic innards.

By the time Adam and I drove up the hill, the day was windy and bright and the naked trees cast moving shadows on the grass and on the road so that sometimes their bare arms seemed to be flailing the windscreen while shards of cold sunlight hailed down from the sky. Great clouds foamed at the top of the hill, grey and white, like something beaten out of a distant ferment. I said: