William Boyd - Stars and bars

“Fine woman, Henderson. See you in church.”

Henderson shut the door. For a moment he stood incredulous. Then, remembering his good news, clasped his hands together, looked heavenward and said “Thank you, God.”

“Everything go well?” It was Cora standing in her doorway.

“Yes. I think so. We got the pictures after a bit of renegotiation. I’m afraid your friend Mr Sereno has had a wasted journey.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“I thought—”

“Wrong.”

Henderson nodded. “That was, um, Monika Cardew.”

“Yeah. She comes once a week. When T.J. goes to Tallapoosa to record his Sunday Sermonette.”

“I see.”

“It’s been going on for years. Why else do you think Daddy spends so much time with T.J.?”

“Good point.” He paused. “Well, I must get to a phone. It will have to be Luxora Beach. I can’t quite see Freeborn allowing me to communicate my news over his line.”

“Are you walking?”

“No choice. My car has disappeared into thin air.”

“Feel like some company? I’d like a walk.”

♦

Henderson and Cora went down the front steps and out into the night. It was warm but from time to time a coolish breeze would blow. Cora wore an old blue cardigan over her baggy grey T — shirt and black cotton trousers. Soon they turned a bend in the road and the lights of the house were lost to sight. They walked along in silence for a while. All about them was the melancholy sound of crickets. It was, Henderson thought, one of the earth’s most evocative of noises. Like an owl’s hoot or a gull’s screech, it summed up a whole cargo of emotions and moods. Now he felt sad and relieved, weary and grateful, strangely mature and wise. Up above him the stars shone in their confusing constellations.

Cora paced along beside him, a small intent figure, the top of her head bobbing at the level of his elbow. She lit a cigarette and he smelt the smoke. As soon as they had stepped outside she had removed her sunglasses. He looked sidelong at her now but it was too dark to make out her features. What a curious, complex person she was! he thought. He couldn’t figure her out at all. Had she really abandoned a career in medicine? Or was that another Gage mansion fantasy? What was she doing whiling away her life in her father’s house? Smoking, reading? Listening to classical music? And what did she do for sex? he suddenly wondered crudely, and then felt embarrassed by his prurience. He found himself trying to imagine her naked: the slight girl’s frame, with full breasts and a woman’s hair…oddly stimulating.

“Lovely night,” he said, derailing that train of thought. “You haven’t, um, seen Duane and Bryant by any chance?”

“Bryant’s in with Shanda watching TV, I think. I don’t know where Duane is. There was some talk of him taking your car into Hamburg.”

“Bryant told me that she and Duane wanted to get married.”

“That’s not funny, Henderson.”

“It’s not meant to be. It’s true.”

“You’re kidding.” She stopped.

“I wish I were.” They started walking again.

“It sounds very unlikely to me. I mean, God, you know what Duane is like.”

“Actually, as surprising as it may sound, I’ve yet to clap eyes on him. He’s just some sort of malevolent spirit who’s commandeered my car, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, when you meet him you’ll know what I’m talking about. God, marry Duane!”

They had reached Luxora Beach. Henderson didn’t know whether to be comforted or alarmed by Cora’s words. They crossed the mall and stepped over the railway tracks.

“Bar seems to be doing a roaring trade,” he observed.

“Well, it’s all we’ve got.”

They walked down a dark side-street to the lambent phone box outside the post office.

“Won’t be a second,” he said. As he put through his collect call to Beeby he looked at Cora’s small neat figure pacing around outside. She paused to light a cigarette, looked up and caught his eye. She had an oval pleasant face, he could see, now that it wasn’t disfigured by her dark lenses. She gave a mocking curtsey. He doffed an invisible cap.

Beeby answered.

“Thomas,” Henderson said. “It’s done. He agreed.”

“You’re sure?” Beeby gave a shout of exhilaration. “Henderson, you amazing man!”

“We shook hands on it ten minutes ago. I’ll get everything tidied up tomorrow, be back in the office Monday.”

“Fine. Superb. But I thought you were taking a holiday?”

“Slight change of plan.”

“Have it another time.”

“Right.”

“You’re a marvel.”

After some more praise, he hung up. He made one more call, to Melissa.

“Melissa, darling, it’s—”

“Get her out of there, you bastard, or I call the cops!”

“What? Who?”

“My baby , you bastard, that’s who! You’re meant to be looking after her. She called me today, says she wants to marry someone called Duane. I mean, Duane? I ask you. Look, Henderson, I’m warning you—”

“Calm down, Melissa, calm down, for God’s sake. There’s no need to worry.” He felt his armpits moisten. “It’s nothing, some girlish fantasy she has. A stupid crush. There’s no problem — we’ll be back on Monday.”

There was a pause. Melissa started again, this time tearful.

“But I am worried, Henderson, I am. She said she wasn’t coming home, that she was going to stay with this Duane person. She said she was very happy. It just didn’t sound like her.”

“Exactly,” he soothed. “A passing infatuation. She doesn’t know what she’s saying, really. I’ve already spoken to her. Everything will be fine and we’ll be back on Monday, I promise.”

He uttered some more consoling platitudes and hung up. He wondered how he had managed to sound so confident and reassuring — he didn’t feel it. He stepped outside the box, shaking his head.

“It’s uncanny. One problem clears up, another steps into line.”

“What is it?”

“Bloody Duane and Bryant. That was Bryant’s mother, reaching hysteria point. The stupid girl phoned home.”

“Take it easy,” Cora touched his arm. “I’ll get Daddy to talk to Duane — end of problem. He always does what Daddy tells him. Always.”

“Would you? That’d be wonderful…I don’t know what she’s playing at. She’s only fourteen, for Christ’s sake. At fourteen I still had two years to go to my first kiss.”

Cora laughed disbelievingly.

“No it’s true. We tend to be late developers in England — if we develop at all. They lock you away, you see, for the duration of your adolescence with lots of other boys.” He frowned. “It’s a long haul,” he added.

They set off back through the town to the Gage mansion.

“You know that painting, the one you call ‘Demeter and Lambe’?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Well, I’ve discovered it’s not Demeter and lambe. It’s Demeter and Baubo.”

“So? Is that important?”

“Not really. Vaguely interesting.” He explained what he had learned of the myth. “It seems that Demeter broke her fast and came out of mourning when Baubo flashed her…her privates at her.”

“Her privates? You mean her cunt?”

“Well, yes.”

“Say what you mean, Henderson, say what you mean.”

“Sorry. I was just wondering what it could be all about. What it all signified.”

“Demeter has had her daughter stolen, right? She goes into a kind of deep mourn. But she cheers up when Baubo shoots her a view of—”

“Precisely.”

“Well it seems pretty obvious to me what it’s all about.”

“Does it?” He looked across at her. She looked back at him. He stumbled on a stone. Cora grabbed his arm.