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When Anna and James had had their first baby, Darnard thought that this woud absorb
Carnel's time; a grandchild, out in Sunday Cove. He was certain she would be up there, every
second day. Or encouraging Anna to leave the child in Donnybrook, while she went about her
business. But Darnard hadn't understood about modern young mothers, like Anna. Silly
and...had just become the part of her own life as if they were adults. They were constantly
being strapped and unstrapped into car seats. They moved with a battery of educational toys.
They were quite self-sufficient wherever they went. Doting (kochane do szaleństwa,
ubóstwiane) grandmothers didn't come into the picture at all. And there of course that
strapped Bernadette, shacked up (żyć na kocią łapę) with that Frank, my...me.., she called
him. She hadn't been much help or support for her mother, had she? Darnard muttered to
himself about her. A lot of...had been paid for her at the college of art. Oh, quite happy to help
friends out to step in and sell things for someone who was stuck. And friends. Carnel was a
great one to be talking about the girls. Where were the girls now, when they were needed?
That Sheila, the school mistress rushing into the convent this morning as if her life depended
on it. A great friend she'd be if anyone needed one. 'I don't talk, I don't listen, I don't know
things.' Hm, marvellous. Who else was there? ..Ethel, she and Carnel have got on quite well at
one stage.
But there as well as anywhere else Carnel hadn't been able to cope. She talked and talked
about nothing returning Ethel and David's hospitality, and not accepting any more of it. Why
hadn't she just said 'Can I have her round to supper?', the way Ruth did, the way anyone did?
Anyone except Carnel.
It was fooling himself, really, thinking she would be happier without him. Fooling himself to
say she wouldn't really notice if he left. She wouldn't be able to cope. She couldn't even
master the politics of solidarity and hate like that woman the'd heard of in Ballsbridge. The
wife of the man's in the public relations agency. She'd been so outraged when he left that she
delined dozens of women on her side. He could hardly mention the man's name now, without
hearing a sibilant (syczÄ…cy) hiss, so blackened (oczerniony) had it become. No, Carnel would
do nothing like that. Darnard stopped suddenly.
Carnel would do nothing. And that was why he could never leave her. She would do nothing
at all. For the rest of his life he would come home, tell lies, make up excuses, invent
conferences, be telephoned by mythical clients who had to be seen after hours. And Ruth
would do nothing. Ruth wouldn't make a scene, demand he choose between them. Ruth could
confront nobody, insist on no showdowns (ostateczna rozgrywka, ujawnienie zamiarów).
This has been the way the things had been for two whole years. Everyone secured in the
knowledge that nobody else would do anything. Ruth knowing that she would never have to
make her mind up about him fully; Carnel knowing that she would never lose him utterly, and
he knowing that he need never be forced to say 'I'll take this one or I'll take that.' He
loved.grinning to himself. It was most people's idea of a married man's dream  an
unquestioning wife and an unquestioning mistress. But it was a bad dream. He could write a
book on what a bad dream it was. He was happy in neither place. He was guilty in both
places. The very fact that nobody was making any move, made it all the more insoluble. If
Carnel had threatened and pleaded, perhaps. If Ruth had issued ultimatums
([BltI`meItEm]), perhaps. Perhaps that might have been better! But nothing ever happened.
Until now. Until Ruth had been invited to dinner. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]