Tremor (7 page)

‘I believe I did.'

‘Now she has gone to do something else. But do not say you have not helped her. She is carrying your love with her. If you continue to give her that love you will be helping and supporting her in the way she now most wants.'

‘And when she returns?'

Letty Heinz wrinkled her eyebrows. ‘The way she spoke, Mr Burford, I do not think she will return.'

‘Of course she'll be back,' said Henry Hayward heartily. ‘I give her six months maximum. Why, it's outrageous, what she's done, and before long she'll realize it and return to the fold.'

Henry Hayward was Ann's elder brother; he had been with the Federal Reserve Bank but was now retired. He came over the following day, with his wife; they had been almost due for their annual visit and presumably this crisis, this outrageous defection on the part of his little sister, was reason enough to accelerate their arrival. Lee had never been close to Henry. He always felt in his bones that Henry thought Ann had married a bit beneath her by not marrying someone who had been to Groton. Henry seemed to remember his school and college days with a sort of retarded affection. Even at sixty-eight he still referred to his membership of the Hasty Pudding Club. Lee, on the other hand, so far as he ever thought of it, recalled his first terms at Harvard with some discomfort, where he had been one of an underprivileged group, living in a rooming house near Central Square and being only tolerated by those who came from fashionable schools.

Now, almost as if Lee were ill, Jessie Hayward virtually took over the running of the house, frightening Della and irritating Hannah in the process. In fact Lee did not find the extra company unwelcome at this time. He had a rooted objection to discussing his affairs with anyone outside, but this was family, and they could talk and talk and talk over and over the strange desertion that had taken place. Lee telephoned his office and told them he had flu and would not be in for a few days. For the moment his cases, those interesting cases, could go hang.

But being at home did not do much for him, and he mooned about the house, allowing Jessie free rein in everything she suggested. One day they drove to Dartmouth to see the old man, but very little came from it to shed light on what to Lee was still a complete mystery. The only irritating incident of the visit was over lunch, when Jessie asked her father-in-law whether he thought there was a man involved. Henry and his father both pooh-poohed the idea, and then, as it were, turned to Lee seeking confirmation.

Lee put down his knife and fork and said: ‘After what has happened I guess anything is possible, but I'd say we lived in as near complete harmony, Ann and I, as you can get in this world. There's never been another man in her life – that I
would
have known – I mean in the years past – and there's never been another woman in mine.'

‘It's the boats,' said Simon Hayward with conviction. ‘When she used to come down here she would be busy as a bird dog, in and out and up and down the causeway. It's just the boats and the sea.'

Nevertheless, the suspicion, once put into words, did not altogether go away, and when they got home he began to search through his wife's papers and personal belongings. All he found was a very long letter from Althea, dated February, going into great detail as to what their life in New Zealand, in the Bay of Islands, in a boatyard, was really like, and making no attempt to glamorize it; though it was clear from some of the phrases that she by then knew what Ann was about. One of her sentences ran: ‘ I know you say Lee would loathe it all, but do you not think it worth giving him the choice?'

Other than this, the only contributory evidence was a drawer full of yachting magazines and brochures about life in New Zealand. As he closed the drawer he thought: ‘I
would
have loathed it, every damned minute of it. I loathe the wet messiness of small boats, the fiddling with ropes, the scrape of sails, the smell of tar. And I'm easily seasick and I have a prosperous law business which I would not
dream
of leaving. So it would not have been much good her inviting me to throw everything up here and go with her! The option that Althea did not think it worth suggesting was that Ann should throw her silly romantic dreams into the discard and continue to live her life in Concord.'

A couple of days later he was in the garden and saw Letty Heinz leaving the house, about to mount her bicycle. He called to her, and she turned eagerly, her face upturned, ready to smile at him if his expression permitted it. His expression did not permit it. He had a sneaking suspicion that she still knew more about the whole affair than she had so far told him. She might have encouraged Ann in her wild and scatter-brained scheme.

When he did not speak she said: ‘I have called in to see Hannah to see if there is any word yet from Mrs Burford.'

‘Have you had any?'

‘Oh no. I do not expect any – not yet. She promises sometime she will write.'

‘Do you know if she is travelling alone?'

‘Oh yes, I think so. At least, she only bought but one ticket.'

‘Which way was she travelling?'

‘To Los Angeles, and then across the Pacific.'

‘Perhaps she was joining someone – some other guy.'

Letty looked up at him quickly. ‘She never mentioned anyone. I do not think that is to be considered possible, Mr Burford. That was not – never in her thoughts.'

Some birds were quarrelling in a nearby maple.

She said: ‘You were very much in love with her.'

He fingered the Phi Beta Kappa ring on his left hand. ‘We were deeply attached to each other.'

‘Do you not have any sympathy for what she has done?'

‘Perhaps I could find some sympathy if I could understand.'

‘I assure you she was not happy to leave.'

‘But she did leave.'

‘She said before she left that she hoped you would understand – and accept. She said she thought you loved her enough for that.'

‘Never mind love. It is a betrayal of our – our wonderful companionship.'

Letty was silent.

He wondered why he so disliked her.

‘Your family are staying long, Mr Burford?'

‘No, leaving tomorrow.'

‘I'm sure you will have made all – all arrangements?'

‘Some, yes. Not all.'

‘I do not know if I can help any more.'

‘In what way?'

‘If later on you wanted to play bridge. It was just a thought. I would arrange it, the way I did for your wife.' When he did not answer she went on: ‘I simply mean, I know the house and could make sandwiches or bake a cake or whatever …'

She knew the house.

He said: ‘I can manage.' And then, aware of his brusqueness and his own reputation for good manners, ‘But thank you. If I think more of it I'll let you know.'

Before Henry and Jessie left Jessie said: ‘ It'll be too early for you to make any plans, Lee, but I suppose you won't go on living in this big house alone.'

‘I've decided nothing yet.'

‘Naturally. Shall you keep both the maids on, d'you think?'

‘Probably. Hannah's a good worker. And Della is always willing and helps with the garden when she hasn't anything else to do.'

‘There are one or two very nice apartments for sale in Boston itself,' said Henry. ‘There's a duplex just come on the market – near the Esplanade, overlooking the river. In time you might find that more convenient. You've always been a bit far out.'

‘I shan't do anything in a hurry,' Lee said.

‘Naturally,' said Jessie again.

By now of course everyone in the neighbourhood knew of Ann's going. Their reaction varied from the quietly sympathetic to the boisterously cheerful ‘well, I'm sure you'll soon snap out of it' brigade. It wasn't, as some of them said between themselves, as if she'd
died
. She would come back; almost certainly she would come back. And if not, well, that was it. Maybe, they whispered, she'd found, or would find, a young lover. Fifty-eight was a funny age for a woman: past child-bearing but not, oh not, past wanting a bit of action. Sometimes at that age you couldn't keep them away from it. Lee was a good-looking, good-tempered man, but lawyers tended to get dried up, prosy. Who would blame her if she found she could do better? There was also a little wry amusement among those who did not like the Burfords so well, that their formal marriage had at last fallen apart.

Lee went to San Francisco for a few days' vacation. He had many good friends there but none of them had had any recent letters from Ann. Yet the friendship he was offered had the effect of making him feel more alone. He and Ann had been constant travellers, and he suspected it would be quite hard to discover some corner of the world where her shadow did not fall. The one place he was certain he would not visit was New Zealand.

He was almost relieved to get home. It was absurd to feel the break, the desertion, less among the most familiar of surroundings; but at home his work took up the days and often the evenings. He brought more work home with him. He thought of resuming the bridge evenings, which he had enjoyed, but could not summon up the enterprise. Letty Heinz had offered to help him, but Letty had dropped out of his life and he had no wish to bring her back into it again.

A few weeks later, a letter from Ann.

Darling Lee,

The longer I am away from you the greater the feeling of enormity oppresses me at what I have done. Yet I hope and pray that once the terrible feeling of the first break has passed you will be finding life comfortable and easy without me. I have now reached Auckland and Althea has met me, and we are staying a night at this hotel in Queen Street before embarking on the last stage of my journey tomorrow. The weather is lovely, the people are lovely and everyone most welcoming.

The trip has been tiring, constantly bumpy, and we had to spend an extra day on Fiji because an engine was malfunctioning. So we arrived a day late, but with the constant time changes I honestly cannot tell whether it is Wednesday or Thursday! There's a lovely bridge across the harbour here, just opened, which is as handsome as Sydney's. It is a fine city, with sea on almost all sides, and I bought some postcards of it, but then it seemed too trivial to send them.

We leave for Kerikeri on the Bay of Islands tomorrow, and I am eagerly anticipating what I shall find there. Forgive me for my eagerness, which was certainly not motivated by any eagerness to leave
you
. But it is a strange and wonderfully exciting world! We shall be at the extreme northernmost tip of New Zealand, with 700 miles of water between us and the next substantial piece of land, which is New Caledonia. (Or maybe only 500 to Sydney. I will learn more in due course.)

Dearest love,

Ann

Their next-door neighbours, if you could call them that, were the Carters, who lived on flatter ground about a hundred yards up the road. Bel Carter, who did not play bridge, took to walking over on a Sunday evening to see him and take a coffee or a highball. She seemed concerned for his future and obviously wished to share his thoughts more personally than he wished to share them with her. Bel Canto, as Ann always called her because she had a fair voice and aired it frequently at local concerts, was fortyish, a tall, dark woman with the dignity which came of the long possession of private money. Her dignity did not prevent her from having an eye for an eligible man, but Lee hoped her interest in him was only that of a friendly neighbour. Her husband, who was as old as Lee, was attached to Boston University and wrote books on maritime history. Bel was very relieved, she said, that Lee had no immediate intention of altering his lifestyle. The usual questions about Ann and the prospects of her possible return had already been exhaustively discussed.

Bel said: ‘Is that Mrs Heinz in your employment still?'

‘She never was – except for a while in '56 when Ann was convalescing. Why?'

‘I've seen her about the house once or twice.'

‘When?'

‘Oh, last week. Thursday, I think it was. And the week before. Pretty woman, isn't she.'

‘She was Ann's friend – I hardly know her.'

Later he asked Hannah, who said, ‘Oh yes, sor. She brought the kitchen curtains back. Mrs Burford had asked her to repair them. Then she came back this week to bring a cake she had baked, and just to see how we was managing.'

Weekends were hardest to fill. With the summery weather he was able to play golf most of the two days, only stopping when he was too tired to go on and therefore almost too tired to feel lonely. On wet days he drank rather a lot and played bridge at the Club. In lonely moments he tried to concentrate on his practice, and on a paper he was going to read at Boston University advocating a change in the law which would permit lawyers to practise beyond their own state frontiers.

The two maids took it in turns to cook his evening meal, but then Della fell ill so he started eating out three evenings a week. It wasn't an unwelcome change, because Della's Puerto Rican cooking was oily for his taste. One night he went to the Paul Revere on Gray Street and found Letty waiting at the next table. She half smiled at him and he nodded, but after the meal he stopped her when she was disengaged and said: ‘I didn't know you worked here.'

‘Well, I am sort of temporary while the other girls take their holidays; but I am hoping it will become permanent.'

‘I have heard from Mrs Burford.'

‘Oh, have you? How is she?'

‘Well enough, it seems. She hadn't then reached wherever she is going, so it was just a letter to say she had arrived in New Zealand.'

‘Oh … Oh, I see.'

There seemed nothing more to add. Then she said: ‘Have you been playing bridge, Mr Burford?'

‘Quite a lot. But not at the house.'