affairs and beach stones

V - II

THIS EVENING I told a lie. It was late, and Harry was in the kitchen, making himself something to eat. He'd been out all day, as usual. I stood in the doorway, watching him slice cheese and Harryatoes and arrange them on bread. Standing there, I remembered how, when we were first married, he would sometimes surprise me by making lunch at the weekend. I recalled a soft omelette with cheese melting inside, and, once, French toast with streaky bacon and maple syrup. I'd never tasted maple syrup before, and he'd told me, very proudly, that you had given him a bottle of the stuff, as a gift.

He peered beneath the grill, watching his cheese bubble in the heat.

'Dr Wells came today,' I announced, sitting at the table. He gave no response, but I was determined to do this. So I waited for him. I did not want to lie to my husband's back. I wanted to lie to his face.

When he'd put his meal on a plate and collected a knife and fork, I asked him to sit with me. He'd got through most of his food before he wiped his mouth and looked up.

'He said Louis doesn't have long to live,' I said, keeping my voice steady.

Harry continued to eat until he'd cleaned the plate. Then he leant back in his chair and replied, 'Well. We've known that all along, haven't we? It's time for a nursing home, then.'

'It's too late for that. He's got a week.' Harry's eyes met mine.
'At the most,' I added.
We held one another's gaze.

'A week?'

'Maybe less.' After giving this information a moment to sink in, I continued, 'Dr Wells says it's vital that we keep

talking to him. It's really all we can do now. But I can't do it all by myself. So I was thinking maybe you could.'

'Could what?'

'Talk to him.'

There was a silence. Harry pushed his plate away, crossed his arms and said, very quietly, 'I wouldn't know what to say.'

I had my answer ready. 'Read, then. You could read to him. He won't respond, but he can hear you.'

Harry was watching me carefully.

'I've written something,' I said, as casually as I could. 'Something that you could read aloud to him.'

He almost smiled in his surprise. 'You've written something?'

'Yes. Something I want you both to hear.'

'What's all this about, Marion?'

I took a deep breath. 'It's about you. And me. And Louis.'

Harry groaned.

'I've written about – what happened. And I want you both to hear it.'

'Christ,' he said, shaking his head. 'What for?' He was staring at me as if I'd gone utterly mad. 'What on earth for, Marion?'

I couldn't answer him.

He stood up and turned to leave. 'I'm going to bed. It's late.'

Springing from my chair, I grabbed his arm and made him face me. 'I'll tell you what for. Because I want something said. Because I can't live with this silence any more.'

There was a pause. Harry looked down at my hand on his arm. 'Let go of me.'

I did as he asked.
Then he fixed me with a stare. 'You can't live with the

silence. I see. You can't live with the silence.'

'No. I can't, not any more.'

'You can't live with the silence, so you make me break it. You subject me and that sick old man in there to your rantings, is that it?'

'Rantings?'

'I see what this is all about. I see why you dragged the poor bastard here in the first place. So that you could give him a bloody telling-off, just like at school. You've written it all down, have you? A catalogue of wrongs. A bad school report. Is that it, Marion?'

'It's not like that ...'

'This is your revenge, isn't it? That's what this is.' He took hold of my shoulders and shook me, hard. 'Don't you think he's been punished enough? Don't you think we've both been punished enough?'

'It's not—'

'What about my silence, Marion? Did you ever think about that? You have no idea ...' His voice cracked. He loosened his grip on me and turned his face away. 'For God's sake. I lost him once already.'

We stood together, both breathing heavily. After a while, I managed to say, 'It's not revenge. It's a confession.'

Harry held up a hand, as if to say, No more, please.
But I had to see this through. 'It's my confession. It's not

about anyone's wrongs but my own.'

He looked at me.

'You said he needed you years ago, and that's true. But he needs you now, too. Please. Read it to him, Harry.'

He closed his eyes. 'I'll think about it,' he said.

I let out a breath. 'Thank you.'