The Witness at the Wedding. Simon BrettЧитать онлайн книгу.
know. Don’t like to question it too much. If you analyse things, you can spoil them.’
‘Very true.’
‘But I think with us – well, we have a lot of similarities in the way we were brought up – I mean, very different homes, but both homes where – well, there were always secrets – nobody quite said exactly what they meant—’ Suddenly Gaby was aware of who she was talking to. She shifted her head sideways to look apologetically at Jude – a movement, incidentally, that she couldn’t have performed twenty minutes earlier. ‘I’m terribly sorry. Carole’s your friend, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean I have any illusions about how relaxed or otherwise she is in her approach to life.’ Jude’s grin took the edge off her words.
Gaby grinned too as she straightened back out on the couch. ‘So Steve grew up where there was always tension between his parents.’
‘Carole’s never talked to me much about her marriage.’
‘No. I get the feeling she has put the lid firmly down on that particular pressure cooker. But according to Steve, the atmosphere at home wasn’t great, even before they started thinking about the divorce. He coped as kids do – putting his head down, getting on with his school work, trying to avoid situations in which he might be expected to take sides. And then, like me, getting the hell out of the family home at the first opportunity. So I think that inculcated a kind of . . . I was about to say deviousness, but let’s call it caution, in his approach to life.’
‘And where does your deviousness – or caution – come from?’ asked Jude casually. ‘From what Carole told me, your parents seem to be absolutely devoted to each other.’
‘Yes, they are, but, you know, there were things in their past history, things that happened before they got married. My grandfather died around that time, and then Grand’mère had a major breakdown and . . .’ The deviousness – or caution – which Gaby had been talking about asserted itself, and her words trickled away to silence.
Jude let the stillness continue, as her fingertips fluttered over the slowly unknotting muscles of the girl’s lower back. She knew that, when she was ready, Gaby would again pick up the conversation.
‘And I think it’s that that’s making me tense.’
‘The baggage of the past?’ Jude hazarded.
‘Mm. No worries about marrying Steve.’
‘Worries about having a family?’
Jude had hit a spot there. ‘Slight anxiety, I suppose. The fact is, I was born quite premature and – I mean, I’ve been absolutely fine since, but maybe it was touch and go when I was born.’
‘Have you talked to your mother about that?’
Gaby laughed at the preposterousness of the suggestion. ‘You don’t know my mother. I’m afraid that kind of detail doesn’t get talked about in the Martin household.’
‘Oh. So are you really worried about your ability to have healthy children?’
‘No, not really. Well, it’s another worry to add to the list, you know, when my head’s full of worries, but not really a problem.’ With a visible effort, the girl pulled herself together. ‘No. As I say, no worries about marrying Steve. No worries about the arrangements either, really. I know we’ve left it late, and I’m sure there’ll be various panics and crises along the way, but equally I know we’ll be able to cope with them. Steve and I are both organizers by nature and profession. No, all that’ll be fine. It’s just . . .’
‘What?’
‘It’s the thought of the wedding bringing back to life things that should have been long forgotten.’
‘Things to do with your parents’ wedding?’
‘Not really. Well, things that happened round that time, I suppose, but— No, I shouldn’t be talking like this. It’s disloyal.’
‘You can’t be disloyal in the abstract, Gaby.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘By definition, don’t you have to be being disloyal to someone?’
‘Yes.’ The girl didn’t answer the question directly, but her next words were still revelatory. ‘The fact is, my parents are fine. Well, as fine as they’re ever going to be. I don’t mean they’re happy. I think they both find life too difficult and challenging ever to be actually happy, but they’re content. They’ve got a small, circumscribed life which they can cope with. I don’t want that put at risk.’
‘And why should your wedding do that?’
‘Well, it’s a public thing. A lot of people will find out about it.’
‘And are there people – or a person – who you don’t want to find out about it?’ Gaby didn’t answer. ‘An ex-boyfriend? An ex-fiancé?’
But no. Jude had lost her. ‘That feels so good, down in my back,’ said Gaby determinedly. ‘Amazingly warm. Is it the oil that does that?’
‘No, not the oil.’
‘Well, whatever you’re doing, it really seems to be working.’
‘Good.’
‘I feel I could leap up and play a game of squash.’
‘I wouldn’t advise you to do that straightaway. I’ll give you some exercises to do, to keep you loose.’
‘So do you think this’ll cure it? The pain won’t come back?’
‘The pain won’t come back when you’ve got rid of what’s causing the pain.’
‘But you said there wasn’t any injury, nothing actually physical causing it.’
‘Right,’ Jude agreed. ‘That’s what I said.’
Chapter Six
Gita pushed the remains of the Crown and Anchor’s fisherman’s pie around her plate. She hadn’t eaten much. For the first time since Jude had collected her from the clinic, she seemed actually depressed. Maybe the effects of the medication had decreased as her body got used to it. Maybe for the first time she was facing the reality of what she had done, the division made in her life by the suicide attempt, and the fact that she now had to face the continuity she had tried to escape.
‘I must try and get some work,’ she said, not for the first time.
‘Don’t worry. You’re not on the breadline yet.’
‘No. But it’s not just the money. For someone like me – any freelance probably – the work’s more than what you get paid. It’s a kind of self-validation.’
‘I know.’
‘For me working means I’m functioning. It’s all to do with the way I look at life. I can survive anything if I think there might be an article to be written at the end of it.’
‘So are you going to . . .?’
Jude didn’t need to finish the sentence. Gita replied firmly that she intended never to write anything about her suicide attempt. ‘I can’t stand that – journalists who only write about themselves. Television personalities who have heart attacks and then write books about heart attacks. Germaine Greer even wrote a book about her own menopause, for God’s sake. I write about other people. My attitude to them is obviously coloured by my own experiences and my own judgement, but I am not the subject of my writing, and never will be.’ She looked gloomily across the bar of the Crown and Anchor. ‘But I’ve got to get something going soon. If I can re-establish myself professionally, then maybe I can start to pick up the pieces of my private