Turning back to her packing she whispered, ‘Forgive me.’ She whispered the same thing into the steady, cool hotel lobby, into the noise and bustle at the station and in the dusty, jolting carriage that took them north. ‘Forgive me.’ It was pathetic and ridiculous that she was talking to a God she doubted existed. Or, if He did exist, He had stopped listening to human prayers long ago. Yet she still feared punishment and retribution for her thoughts.

Everything was topsy-turvy.

42

ENID BEHAVED MARVELLOUSLY in front of Vivian’s staff. She gave Vivian a detailed account of Mabel’s activities over the past three days, including foodstuffs consumed and hours slept. She did not glance at Howard as he played peek-a-boo, causing the baby to giggle and gurgle. She simply commented that she hoped the business with the solicitors had been successful and then suggested that she and Howard leave promptly, insisting that Vivian must want Mabel to herself. ‘No doubt you want to unpack immediately and get settled. It’s always so nice to be home, isn’t it?’

As they walked back to their cottage, she was less subtle and accommodating. Without preamble she demanded, ‘How could you? How could you be so stupid and so selfish?’ Enid knew her son too well to fail to see what had happened. They were both glowing, delirious; they couldn’t take their eyes off one another. She loved him too well to keep her thoughts to herself.

‘I’m not trying to be either stupid or selfish,’ replied Howard calmly.

‘She’s a married woman, Howard. She’s married to the man who affords you protection. He does that so that you can stand by your principles, not so you can lie with his wife.’ He heard the fear in his mother’s voice and felt sorry enough to attempt an explanation, even though he was a man and really didn’t have to explain or justify himself to her, hadn’t felt the need to do either since he was eight years old.

‘You don’t understand. It’s not sordid or wicked. I love her.’

‘It had to be her, did it?’ His mother looked hot and bothered. Her hat was askew.

‘Yes, apparently it did.’ People said it all the time. ‘You can’t choose who you fall in love with.’ Howard had always been quite ambiguous in his feelings towards such a sentiment, which was more often than not vocalised to excuse some chaos brought down on innocents because of the self-interested behaviour of the not-so-innocent. He felt a bit embarrassed to find himself articulating the platitude, but at the same time he thought it was true. He had not decided to pursue Vivian, nor had she tried to seduce him. It was bigger than that. Besides, they had a right, didn’t they? A right to happiness. ‘He doesn’t treat her very well,’ he added in a half-hearted attempt to convince his mother to see things his way.

‘Does he beat her?’

‘No.’

‘Does he womanise?’

Although understandable, Howard thought his mother’s line of reasoning was beneath her. A man’s worth as a husband should not be quantified by the absence of abuse. ‘Possibly, in France. Most of the soldiers do, it’s encouraged.’ His mother looked irritated.