East Fortune (26 page)

He decided to stop, make a cup of tea and go to bed. He picked up his pen, crossed out the work he had done so far, and wrote in one quick sentence:
Things forever need renewal to shine.

All he had wanted was to be kind; to do the right thing.

Douglas had never had to worry too much about money in the past (it was one of the few advantages of childlessness), but now that he was on his own he was going to have to make some adjustments. Emma had made it clear that, as far as she was concerned, he had no claim on anything other than the clothes he stood up in. Their flat was now on the market and she would only communicate with him by text or email. She did not want to have to hear his voice.

Can I see you?

No.

Can I ring you?

No.

Is there nothing I can do?

Nothing.

Douglas asked for forgiveness but Emma insisted that it was too late. He was mad to think that she would ever trust him again. He had wasted their love and destroyed their companionship. The only thing he could give her was a divorce.

Douglas did not approach Tessa for legal advice because she was already dealing with Jack and, in any case, she liked Emma too much to be sympathetic.

He wanted to keep it separate. He could not stand any more disapproval from his family. They all made it clear that he had been a fool. His mother was the worst: trying, and failing, to find something positive to say.

‘Perhaps if you're very penitent…'

‘I've tried that…'

‘I'm sure she might come round…'

‘I don't think so, Mother. She hates me…'

‘She doesn't hate you, Douglas. Nobody hates you…'

But Emma was relentless in her fury. Douglas suggested divorcing online as it was cheaper and less personal but Emma left him in no doubt what she thought of the idea.

Don't contact me any more with your stupid cheap thoughts.

Douglas found an expensive lawyer, a friend of a friend in London, who advised him to rethink the way in which he lived his life: no designer clothes, no taxis (unless he could claim them on expenses), no posh restaurants, no foreign travel, and preferably no alcohol.

Douglas was not sure that he could live without the alcohol but promised that he would always choose the cheapest wine on the menu.

‘That implies you are still going to restaurants,' his lawyer argued.

Douglas had picked her because he found her voice reassuring. Now he wished he had chosen a man.

‘And your credit cards?' she continued. ‘I assume you have more than one?'

Douglas had been kiting his accounts for years.

‘We need to budget for everything and then put a plan in place. I don't want to see you destitute.'

‘Does that happen often?'

‘Not if you do everything I say.'

‘It's as bad as that?'

Douglas tried to think of a television idea that would sell all over the world and make him proper money: a series on seven-star hotels, the secrets of the rich and famous, an exotic holiday show offering luxury on a budget. He was never going to survive directing documentaries about the relationship between art and anatomy.

His work was mainly in London and so he left Glasgow and rented a room in a friend's house. They had converted the storage cellars in their basement flat to provide ideal accommodation for a nanny, a granny, or now, it seemed, Douglas.

He left early for work each morning, had a coffee that he knew he couldn't afford, and headed on to his production company in
Soho. Previously he had hardly been there at all, working from home, only attending vital meetings, but now he surprised everyone with his diligence. He only hoped that no one had guessed it was because he didn't have anywhere else to go.

He had begun to edit two out of the three films in the series but there was still more research to be done on the final programme. He visited Windsor Castle once more to look at a selection of Leonardo's drawings. He turned over the pages, seeing Leonardo's location of the soul in a drawing of the skull. He looked at a representation of the female urinogenital system, and his observation of perforations in the pericardium for the transition of spirit.

As he leafed through the studies of the female form he thought of Julia. He began to think what it might be like when he saw her again, especially now that he was in London. But he remembered her obsession with secrecy. ‘Never call me,' she had said. ‘Store my number under a man's name. I will send you texts.' She would never have left a letter in a pair of trousers ready for dry-cleaning.

Douglas decided to call her office. He wanted to hear her voice.

It took several attempts; not because Julia avoided him but because he kept cancelling each call as soon as he had dialled her number. It was absurd, he thought. He hadn't even planned what he was going to say.

The most important thing, he decided, was to call her before he had anything to drink.

The first time he managed to dial her number and let the phone ring Julia was out. He did not leave a message on her voicemail and felt strangely relieved. He even had a glass of white wine to celebrate. After he had drunk the whole bottle and started another he called her again.

This time she was in.

‘Well, hello,' she said. ‘I didn't know you had this number.'

‘It was easy enough to find.'

‘You know you're breaking the rules?'

‘I'm sorry, I couldn't resist it.' He tried to sound charming rather than drunk.

‘It's bad behaviour.'

‘Then forgive me.'

‘What can I do for you?'

‘You make me sound like a business meeting.'

‘I'm
at work,
Douglas. People can come in at any minute. I have to look and sound professional.'

‘I'm sorry. It's just I haven't seen you for such a long time.'

‘I'm sorry. I've been busy. Haven't you?'

‘Yes, of course, but I just thought…'

‘It's not easy, Douglas.'

‘I know.'

‘We have to be patient.'

‘I'm in London…'

‘You know the rules, Douglas. Not London. I let you know when I'm going somewhere exciting and then you arrive. It seems to be working well so far.'

‘Then when can I see you?'

‘I don't know. Is something wrong?'

‘No. It's all right.' He reminded himself not to say anything about Emma. He did not want to sound desperate.

‘You don't sound good. Have you been drinking?'

‘No.'

‘I'm not sure I believe you.'

‘Just a little.'

‘You shouldn't drink so much.'

‘I know.'

‘I can't get away very easily. John's away next week and I have to look after the boys, take them to the Aquarium, stuff like that…'

‘I still want to see you.' Douglas knew that he was sounding too desperate.

‘Something has happened, hasn't it?'

‘No. It's all right.'

‘I have to go now. I might be going away next month. I'll let you know. Around the 23rd. Is that any good?'

‘I might be filming.'

‘Keep it free – a few days either side of the 23rd. I'll call. Sorry, someone's coming into the room. Thank you for your call, Mr Henderson; I'll see what I can do. Of course. Goodbye.'

Douglas was determined to see her even if it was only to remind
himself what Julia looked like (she had refused to allow him to take her photograph in case someone discovered it –
was he crazy?).

The only clue she had given him was that she was going to the London Aquarium. He decided that the following week he would go there every day and wait for her.

He knew it was mad but he didn't care.

The Aquarium was hot and crowded, a world full of noise and hazards. The only animate objects at peace were the fish. Douglas learned that a hundred and nineteen different species were discovered in the Thames each year, and that, in 1984, in Upton Park, smelt and flounder had fallen on the streets of London from the sky.

‘I don't think so,' a man was saying. ‘I think it was West Ham fans having a laugh.'

All around him parents were becoming increasingly exasperated by their children.

‘That's
enough,
Frank.'

‘Do your shoes
up,
Katy.'

‘For God's
sake,
Matt.'

Douglas watched couples kissing, holding hands and pushing buggies. He would probably never know what it was to be a father.

Children filled the corridors.

‘Which one's Nemo, Mummy?'

‘Where's Doreen?'

Douglas stepped back to let other families pass. This has nothing to do with me, he thought. I have nothing in common with anybody here. I only want to be with her.

It took him three days to meet Julia and he had begun to give up hoping, knowing that he was making himself ridiculous. In the end, she must have seen him first. He could see her walking briskly away.

‘Julia,' he called.

She turned round and pretended she had not known he was there.

‘Douglas? What are you doing here?'

‘Looking at fish.'

‘I didn't know you were interested in marine life.'

‘You'd be surprised what I'm interested in.'

Douglas could see her two children looking at him.

‘Hello,' he said. ‘I'm Douglas.'

‘This is Mr Henderson,' Julia interrupted. ‘He's a colleague from work. This is Tom, and this is Sam. Say hello, boys.'

Her sons looked at their own feet.

Tom was a spiky-haired nine-year-old dressed in a Chelsea football shirt and a baseball cap. Douglas realised that he was the type of boy that parents describe as ‘full of energy' but everyone else thinks a pain in the neck. He ran ahead, banged on glass walls that had signs specifically imploring visitors not to disturb marine life, and put his hands into every tank he could, roughing up the water and shouting, ‘Die, fish, die!' His younger brother Sam was the opposite: a freckle-faced redhead who clung to his mother at all times.

Julia was looking for some kind of escape but recognised she was trapped.

‘Go ahead and look at the fish, boys. Stay on this level. I'll join you in a minute. Go on!'

They waited until the boys were looking at the sharks, mirroring their movements through the glass, trying to provoke them.

Julia's formal tone changed.

‘What the hell are you doing, Douglas? Are you crazy?'

‘I'm just a colleague from work. We bumped into each other.'

‘Don't you dare start following me around.'

‘I'm not. I was here anyway.'

‘I don't want you stalking me.'

‘I'm not stalking you. I just happened to be here. I'm not desperate or anything.'

‘I'll be the judge of that. Honestly, Douglas. I told you to wait.'

‘It's just a coincidence.'

‘Since when did you start visiting aquariums? Don't
ever
do this again.'

Tom interrupted.

‘Mummy, can I have a shark?'

‘In a minute. Mr Henderson is just leaving. Go and look at the piranhas.'

Douglas waited once more until the boys were out of earshot. He knew that this was his last chance.

‘Where are you going next?'

‘God, you'll be lucky after this performance.'

‘It's not a performance.'

‘I don't believe you.'

‘Trust me.'

‘Never.'

‘Where are you going? When can we meet? You can tell me.'

‘Moscow.'

‘Is that around the 23rd?'

‘I'll send you a text. This is mad. You were insane to come here.'

‘I've told you. I was here anyway.'

‘That's such a lie.'

‘Just let me come to Moscow. I promise I'll behave.'

‘That's another lie.'

‘It depends what you mean by “behave”.'

‘You'll need a visa.'

‘Thank you.'

‘I'm not promising anything.'

‘I'm not asking you to make any promises. I'd just like to see you. But if it's difficult I can wait. You don't have to do this. I was only asking. If you can't see me then I'll understand…'

Douglas had managed to retract as much as he dared and could feel Julia relenting.

‘I suppose we could just “bump into each other” there,' she said. ‘It'll be freezing but it's a great city. The corruption is almost refreshing. You can get anything you want as long as you have money…'

‘I'll get a visa.'

‘I have to go. Remember what I said. Just don't…'

‘I won't.'

‘I mean it…'

‘I said I won't…'

‘See you in Moscow then.'

She leaned forward. Douglas thought she was going to kiss him but she whispered in his ear.

‘Bastard.'

Douglas left the building and decided to take a walk by the river. He would stop in a wine bar and think about what it might mean to keep seeing Julia.

He realised he had pushed it too far and damaged his cause. But he also knew that wherever Julia was he would seek her out. Every time she offered him the possibility of a meeting he would go.

Before the Lent term began Jack took to his bed. He was determined to stop worrying about Krystyna and finish his work on the
De Rerum Natura.
He unplugged his phone and scattered papers, dictionaries and rival translations of Lucretius all around him, only leaving his room for further supplies of coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoons. He hardly washed. He did not shave. His life of disciplined withdrawal was complete.

He had reached the description of the plague of Athens. This had always been considered an abrupt ending to the poem and many scholars thought that Lucretius had died before he could complete it. Jack found a certain irony in the fact that the last word was
desererentur
from the verb
deserere
– to forsake, leave, abandon. Lucretius had left the reader with an apocalyptic description of piles of corpses on makeshift pyres and given up on any attempt at consolation. He could have been describing the end of the world.