Ivy Compton-Burnett - The Present and the Past

‘It would be a simple way to help,’ said Flavia.

‘Yes, be ironic about it I meant it in all good faith. It might be the only way to do so. And I don’t think sarcasm is quite the thing for the moment.’

‘You want to see the meeting, my boy,’ said Mr Clare. ‘And we see your reasons; it will be a human scene; too much so for your wife and me. But what of the people most concerned? Would they not choose something else?’

‘Oh, I don’t think Catherine has much choice in the matter. She wants to meet her sons; the sooner the better, in public or in private; it is all the same. The main thing is the whole thing, if you understand me. There would be no trouble there.’

‘But we must do our best for her,’ said Flavia. ‘We have accepted her view and must act in accordance with it.’

‘Well, have the meeting in privacy then. Shut them all up together and leave them to work on each other, so that none of them is ever the same again. I am sure Guy will not be. If that is human kindness, have it like that. Of course your feeling for the boys is not that of a real mother. I see it could not be. And I see that it is not.’

‘I wonder what is best for all of them,’ said Flavia, in a detached tone.

‘I do not wonder. I have told you my view. But I will not interfere. I will stand aside and see mystery made, and suggestions set on foot, and the boys’ first impression of their mother constrained and spoiled. It is a strange thing to want to besmirch. Upon my word I should have shrunk from such an ordeal when I was a boy. And I have always thought of Guy as a more sensitive creature than myself.’

‘Well, what do you actually suggest?’

‘I do not suggest anything. I know better than to do so. And I have already made my suggestion. I assumed that there would be luncheon as usual, and that Catherine would come to it in a normal way, and the children join us later, as they always do. Then everything would be simple and above-board, and no one would suffer. I hate the thought of unnecessary suffering myself. And the mother and sons could be alone together afterwards. Does not that cover the ground?’

‘You make your case,’ said Mr Clare.

‘I suppose it does,’ said Flavia. ‘In a sense, of course it does. But is Catherine to wait until after the meal to see the boys? Is she to sit through an hour in suspense? We should do better for her than that.’

‘Well, let the boys come to luncheon. What is the objection there? Surely that takes in everything.’

‘We can hardly say it does not.’

‘You are making an occasion for yourself, my boy,’ said Mr Clare. ‘And I don’t say you deserve nothing.’

‘Well, and if I am,’ said Cassius, half-laughing, ‘I see no harm in it. I am sure we have one seldom enough. But my real object is to have this thing go through with the least possible strain, for you and for me and for Flavia and Catherine and everyone. And for the boys most of all. What is there to criticize in that? Why should we mouth and murmur over it, as though something discreditable were involved?’

‘Well, will you suggest it to Catherine?’ said his wife.

‘Why cannot you write an invitation in the ordinary way? What is the reason for making any difference? There is nothing abnormal about the occasion. We are simply asking a woman to luncheon, who happens to have been involved in my life. That is all it is.’

‘Well, it is that amongst other things,’ said his father.

‘She may answer that she wishes to see her boys alone,’ said Flavia. ‘It is what I should do in her place.’

‘But she will not, I tell you. Don’t you listen to a word I say? You and she are not the same. God knows I understand you both. She wishes to see her sons, and nothing else counts with her. She does not mind how or where. That came through firm and clear. You see I know her well. Indeed it was extraordinary how things came back to me. All her little words and ways seemed to fit into their place as if we had parted yesterday. Or rather as if we had parted when we were still on terms, you know. And to think that it is nine years, and that the three younger children have been born since! Well, how life goes by!’

‘So it does,’ said Mr Clare. ‘Mine has almost done so.’

‘I dread the effect of this meeting on the boys,’ said Flavia. ‘It is coming at the wrong age. They are at once too old and too young.’

‘Well, we can’t help that,’ said her husband. ‘Just prepare them for it, as if it were an ordinary thing. They will soon adapt themselves.’

‘I see that you do not know them.’

‘And I see that you do not know me. I am always seeing it. You are too busy admiring yourself to have any admiration left over.’

‘So knowledge of you could only result in one feeling?’

‘Oh, well, what do you say? Well, in what feeling? Oh, well, yes, you would take that line. Well, it might result in it. Or I think it might in this case. I do think there are things in me, that you don’t recognize, Flavia. Just as no doubt there are things in you that I don’t. But I recognize a good deal. God knows I do.’

‘Perhaps you read it in. That is an easy thing to do.’

‘Not for me. That isn’t in my line. I only see what I can’t help seeing. I don’t want to see anything more. I am sure I don’t. I guard myself against it. I don’t want to know what is below the surface. It is advisable not to know it; I have found that. And now about this letter that has to be written. Ought we to make a draft?’

‘Not if it is to be just an ordinary invitation. There should be no need. I suppose I address her as “Mrs Clare”?’

‘Well, I suppose you do. It seems rather odd, somehow. And she will have to call you the same. So there will be two Mrs Clares at the table. I might keep a harem.’

‘Well, not so much of one,’ said Mr Clare.

‘No, well, I suppose not. Well, I suppose I shall manage between them. I don’t call either of them that; that is one thing.’

‘And a thing that will dispose of any problem,’ said his wife.

‘And how about the children? Well, they don’t call either of you that either. But what will they call Catherine?’

‘Her own boys will call her “Mother”. It is what they always called her. Fabian may just remember. The little one will not use a name.’

‘Yes, that is why you were dubbed “Mater”. I remember now.

And I remember wondering why you liked it. It did not seem to suit you somehow.’

‘I did not like it. It did not suit me.” It does not now. But the name, “Mother”, was given. It belonged to someone else. I did not take what was not mine.’

‘I remember; I do remember, Flavia. And I remember how you sunk yourself in other people and forgot your own claims. And I appreciated it, my dear; and I have appreciated it ever since. It is the foundation of our life together. Whatever else has been between us, we have that.’

‘Do you wish the letter to go today?’

‘I don’t wish anything about it,’ said Cassius, sitting down and throwing one leg over the other, as if threatened by exhaustion. ‘But, as I told you, Catherine wishes it, and it is she you are so concerned for. And if you had seen her all keyed-up and tragic, you would not keep her waiting a moment longer than you could help. No one would, who had a human heart.’

‘It is you who have kept her waiting for nine years,’ said Flavia, going to the desk. ‘She need not wait much longer.’

‘Well, upon my word, what a mean speech!’ said Cassius, looking at her back. ‘Of all human meannesses give me that of a good woman. And when I say a good woman, I mean what I say. Well, what can we do to hurry things? Shall I leave the letter at the house?’