‘But… the other thing you do… or I do… is wonder if you haven’t just found a really good excuse for having had such a strange and rather wasted life. You think, I’ve found someone to blame! I can blame the filthy old pervert in my school – let’s crucify him. But who can’t find someone to blame? Everyone has a similar tale to tell, don’t they? We get bored listening, because it’s everywhere.’

‘Is it?’

‘I think so. Another priest. Another football coach – whatever it is. And the thing is, whatever he did or didn’t do, my life would have been roughly the same – the same mixture of good and bad, and luck and bad luck. I don’t pity myself, or… if I do, I don’t want to. People get played about with! They do. Kids. Boys, girls – girls in particular. Fucked about with, and picked up and handed round. Abused, raped – I wasn’t raped. It’s a modern thing – a Western thing, I’m sure of it – we hunt for excuses and… reasons for why life isn’t as good as it should be. Tough shit, life’s hard. You had a man’s cock in your mouth – just… get over it.’

He was nodding, and trying to laugh again.

‘Get over it.’

He breathed in and swallowed. He put his hands over his face.

‘Why could I never get over it?’

29

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why you can’t get over it, I mean. Everyone I meet, in the hospice, for example – everyone has different stories.’

‘You work in a hospice. And this is meant to be your holiday.’

‘Yes—’

‘And you’re listening to just another old bore. You must have heard this kind of nonsense all day, every day—’

‘Michael, no. That’s not true.’

‘Let’s change the subject.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s… not going anywhere. I shouldn’t be using you like this – it’s me that’s the problem.’

They sat in silence.

‘I don’t know the answer,’ said Maria at last. ‘I don’t know why we carry this pain, or why some people do. And you’re wrong about the people, in the hospice, I mean. There are happy people and sad people—’

‘And the war. The First World War.’

‘What?’

‘The war.’

‘What about it?’

‘That was trauma. That was real trauma, on an industrial scale.’

She smiled at him.

‘You’ve lost me this time, Michael. What has the First World War got to do with what happened to you?’

He shook his head and frowned.

‘It was clear a minute ago. Now it isn’t.’

‘I think you are a very clever man.’

‘Not true.’

‘You are a very sensitive man.’