Rachel Cusk - The Country Life

‘Hurry up,’ called Martin over his shoulder. ‘They’ve already gone in to dinner.’

I followed Martin down the stairs, as sombrely as if to the beat of an executioner’s drum. I could not believe that I was to be made to face those whose only thought when they saw me could be that I had failed to justify my presence here and was to be sent away. He mounted his chair and span swiftly off to the right, from where the voices were coming. I stood in a void of dread and disbelief outside the door; and then reeled after Martin into the room.

What a lovely sight would have greeted me, if only I had been looking at it through different eyes! We had entered the dining room, a room I had never been in before, its novelty ornamented with the magic of a special occasion. It was lit entirely by candles, whose pale, guttering columns rose from a vast table in the centre, and whose glow in the velvety dark gave every surface the appearance of being heaped with treasure. The light glittered off glasses and cutlery, sparkled on the china rims of plates, flashed over rings and necklaces, and pooled warmly over the circle of faces gathered around the table; faces which to me were but half-familiar and at this point probably hostile, but which to Martin formed the landscape of everything that he loved.

‘Finally!’

‘Where have you been ?’

‘We’ve been calling you for hours , darling!’

The volley of exclamation caused me to shrink momentarily back into the shadows; but Martin looked over his shoulder as if to bring me to heel, and I reluctantly followed him towards the table. Now that the fog of our arrival had lifted slightly, I could begin to distinguish one face from another. There was Caroline, resplendent in some floral garment with elaborately puffed sleeves, from which the slabs of her arms protruded and rested powerfully on the table. Next to her was a man I did not recognize, with a babyish face and a very pale, oval head, the fringe of whose fair, fuzzy hair clung in a sort of tide mark around the level of his ears. Beside him sat Mark, and beside him Millie. Even in that rushed first assessment of the table, I could not prevent myself from being struck anew by her loveliness. She was wearing the same red dress in which I had seen her earlier, but her mouth glistened darkly with lipstick. Next to her sat Toby, groomed and buffed to perfection in a crisp white shirt and dark jacket; and next to him Pamela, whose impossibly girlish form was encased in a tight black dress. Around her neck was a rope of pearls. Mr Madden beamed combustibly beside her. A double gap remained between him and Caroline, which it took me some time to appreciate constituted my own invitation to dinner. Dimly I was struck by the operation of manners in this foreign, fortunate, sparkling world. It was, I understood then, their law, their discipline, their religion. I may have been scorned, reviled, found wanting; but it had been deemed correct, for reasons which were unclear to me and which I sensed had not even been exhumed for reexamination on this occasion, that I should attend dinner.

‘Stella, why don’t you sit next to Piers?’ said Pamela. ‘And Martin can slot in there beside Caroline.’

‘Happy birthday,’ I said to Mr Madden, seating myself in the high-backed chair beside him. An exquisitely arranged plate, which I understood to be the first course, sat in front of me, bearing a small dish of paté and several delicate slivers of toast.

‘Not yet!’ he barked jovially, looking about the table with abrupt, jerking movements, a bewildered, slightly desperate smile on his face, as if he were unsure whether a mistake had been made.

‘We know it’s not yet, darling,’ said Pamela soothingly, placing a hand on his arm. ‘We’re just sort of seeing it in.’

‘A toast!’ cried Toby suddenly, raising his glass.

‘Oh yes, let’s have a toast,’ said Pamela.

‘To—’ Toby looked around the table, making it clear that his toast was not dedicated to any particular cause. His eyes lighted on Caroline. ‘To Caroline’s baby!’

There was a chorus of approval. Caroline blushed.

‘And Derek’s,’ she asserted over the noise. ‘It’s Derek’s baby too!’

‘ Cawo ,’ said Derek reprovingly.

‘We know it’s Derek’s baby, darling,’ said Pamela.

‘Unless there’s something you haven’t told us!’ snorted Toby, casting around the table for more appreciation in the wake of his toast triumph.

‘It’s just that you’re our daughter ,’ continued Pamela. ‘Margaret probably feels the same about you, doesn’t she, Derek?’

‘She’s vewy pleased,’ nodded Derek.

‘I should hope she is!’ said Pamela. ‘Caroline told us you were going to name the baby after her.’

‘Only if it’s a girl,’ said Derek dubiously.

‘ Obviously only if it’s a girl, darling,’ said Caroline between her teeth.

‘Well, I should be very flattered if I were her,’ said Pamela. ‘I’ve obviously abused my children horribly. They’d die rather than pay me that sort of a compliment.’

‘ Ahhh ,’ said Toby, putting his arm around her. ‘Poor Mummy.’

‘It’s true!’ protested Pamela. ‘When I think of what I went through to bring you four lumps into the world! And never a word of thanks from any of you!’

‘I’m not a lump ,’ said Millie to Mark.

‘ Mummy! ’ shrilled Caroline nervously. ‘How can you say that?’

‘Thank you for giving birth to us,’ intoned Martin solemnly.

‘Now, now,’ said Mr Madden.

‘Thank you for fathering us,’ continued Martin, turning to him.

At this a mouthful of paté, which I had been surreptitiously consuming while the others conversed, lodged in my throat, causing me to choke.

‘Goodness!’ cried Millie.

‘Heave-ho!’ said Toby.

‘Not again ,’ said Pamela, while Martin slapped me on the back.

‘Excuse me,’ I spluttered, my eyes watering.

‘Are you all right?’ said Mark, whom I could feel watching me from the other side of the table.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, glancingly catching his eye.

There was a pause around the table while my interruption was absorbed. As if by agreement, the assembled company bent their heads to their plates or took up their glasses.

‘Mark and I have got an announcement to make,’ said Millie presently. She took Mark’s hand firmly in her own. Their slender fingers lay entwined on the table.

‘What?’ said Caroline with her mouth full, looking around as if she had missed something.

‘Oh, darlings !’ cried Pamela, catching her breath and clasping her hands to her chest in anticipation.

‘We’ve decided that we’re going to move in together,’ beamed Millie.

‘You’re going to what ?’ said Caroline.

‘Oh darlings ,’ said Pamela, more severely. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘What are they saying?’ said Mr Madden, casting about confusedly for some translation and eventually turning to me.

‘They—’ It seemed inappropriate for me to repeat the announcement, and so I sat far back in my chair, passing the responsibility to Martin.

‘They’re going to move in together,’ explained Martin. ‘In London.’

‘Move in ?’ said Mr Madden, ‘Not get married?’

‘We don’t want to get married, Dad,’ said Millie.

‘Why ever not? Caroline did.’

At this Caroline’s face immediately took on a rigid expression. The compliment had evidently taken her by surprise, but not so much that she was unable to prevent herself from being seen to be glorying in it. She put her hand beneath her chin and looked interestedly at her father.