The Beaufort Sisters

‘Two and a half years old and he has the reflexes of Fred Perry,’ said Tim, showing his chauvinism when it came to sport.

‘And Sugar Ray Robinson, too,’ said George, who wouldn’t have known Fred Perry from Suzanne Lenglen but knew his boxers. ‘He gets beat at tennis, he can knock out the referee.’

Michael was a sturdy child, big for his age and seemingly without fear. He tumbled about the lawn, chasing after the ball when it was thrown to him, falling over and coming up gurgling with laughter. It was obvious that his father had now become his particular favourite, even over George. He saw Nina, threw the tennis ball at her, then rushed at her and almost bowled her off her feet.

‘Terrific tackler, too,’ said Tim. ‘We’ll put him down for Cambridge next year. Eton or Harrow first, then Cambridge.’

‘He’s going to be educated in England?’ She meant to say it lightly but it came out tart. Which was her real feeling.

‘I thought we’d discussed it.’ He managed to get the proper light note; he tossed the ball high into the air and caught it to his son’s great delight. ‘English education is still the best, despite the socialists.’

Michael saw his aunts, Sally and Prue, come out of the rear of the big house. He screamed at them, then galloped off towards them. Tim nodded at George. ‘Keep an eye on him, George. Don’t let the girls spoil him.’

‘No chance. He’s like me, a man’s man.’

As she and Tim walked towards their own house, Nina said, ‘I don’t think we’ve said a word about Michael’s education.’

‘No, we haven’t. That was why I was surprised when your father told me everything was arranged.’

‘Nothing is arranged! Did you argue with him?’

‘I no longer argue with your father. In another nine or ten years, when Michael is ready to go to boarding school, your father may no longer be with us. He’s almighty, but I don’t think he’s immortal.’

She changed the subject abruptly. Criticism was not one of her pleasures, especially of him. ‘Why home so early?’

‘I’ve decided I’m working too hard.’

‘Are you getting lazy?’ She smiled, straining to be light.

He bounced the tennis ball on the close-cut lawn as they walked. ‘Yes, I think I am. Or put it another way – I ask myself is there any point in working? Daddy, I’ve learned, is invincible. He is never going to allow me to be sacked from the oil company – he would never let that happen, for your sake. But I’m never going to get very far up the ladder, either. The truth is, I am not a businessman at heart. The thought of selling millions or billions of gallons of oil doesn’t thrill me in the least. And the word has got through to Daddy that the marketing division finds me less than enthusiastic.’

‘What’s got into you? You sound, I don’t know, shiftless. You were never like that before.’

‘I think I was, only you never saw it. Neither did I. Darling heart, don’t be offended by this. I’ve decided I like being a rich girl’s husband, but I’m not going to work at it. Steve Hamill had a word to describe me – a bludger. If one can swallow one’s conscience, and I’ve been chewing mine for some time, there’s no pain at all in being a bludger. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s the way it is going to be, I’m afraid. I enjoy luxury. Just as you do,’ he added unmaliciously.

‘I was born to it,’ she said, as if that were some sort of argument. But he was unimpressed and she went on, ‘What are you going to do, then?’

‘I’ll do what all the other bludgers – ’

‘Don’t use that word.’

He looked at her quizzically, bounced the ball a few times. She felt awkward, somehow naked; this was a crisis in their marriage and she was unprepared for it. From the maples at the rear of the park there came the plaintive note of a mourning dove; but across the lawns the laughter of Michael, Sally and Prue was a counterpoint. Somewhere a lawn-mower whirred and out on the parkway traffic growled, hummed and sighed. In the midst of an ordinary day, surrounded by the security that she treasured, she felt her life falling apart. She stared at him for some help, but he was blind to or ignored her silent plea.

‘I shan’t make myself conspicuous. I’ll fill in my time so that, if nothing else, I’ll look busy. But most of all I’ll concentrate on being a father. Just to make sure Michael doesn’t grow up in my image.’

‘Whose image do you want for him?’

‘Not your father’s.’ He smiled, but still managed to sound good-humoured.

She felt bewildered, first by Margaret’s outburst, now by this casual declaration by Tim that he was throwing in the towel. True, she had orginally wanted him to become part of the family, though at the time she had not really appreciated how much that surrendering of his independence would mean to him. But in the three years they had been married she had come to see his point, to share his determination to be his own man and not her father’s. He was not becoming her father’s man now. What was worse, he was settling for being her man, letting her money keep him. Her disappointment in him sickened her, yet she knew that she was the one who had planted the seed of corruption.

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