All the Beauty of the Sun by Marion Husband

Author:Marion Husband
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Accent Press
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

DANIEL SAID, ‘I NEED to speak to you.’

In his shirtsleeves in his garden, wondering where to begin on the weeds that had grown up under the close protection of the viciously thorny roses, George turned to see Iris’s husband standing over him. At once he turned back to the roses, concentrating on the grey thorns that grew thickly all along their stems. He felt as though his heart might break out of his chest, a cowardly feeling, one, he supposed, that adulterers must endure from time to time. Only he hadn’t expected this feeling so soon; he had hoped that a fair god might have given him a little more time with Iris. He should have known that there was only Daniel’s god, vengeful and pedantic.

He took off his spectacles, folded them and placed them in his shirt pocket; he didn’t want them broken; nor did he want to appear older and weaker than he was. Turning to face him he said, ‘Shall we go inside?’

‘Yes. That would be for the best, I think. More private. I think you will want this to be kept private.’

George looked up at those few windows that overlooked his garden. He wasn’t on speaking terms with any of his neighbours, not since Paul’s conviction; it didn’t matter to him at all if they witnessed his further humiliation. But he supposed it mattered to Daniel, and he owed him privacy, at least.

He led him across the lawn that needed mowing, past the summer house that needed repainting, up the steps to the terrace that needed the sludge of last year’s leaves removing, this year’s horse-chestnut blossom, twigs and moss swept from its corners. He led him through the French doors to the dining room he never used, where the dust had settled thick enough for the mice to leave prints, where the sun had worn holes in the curtains. Grace had chosen those curtains, he realised, as he led Daniel Whittaker along the passage and into his study. Grace had asked him if he thought they were ugly. He wondered why he thought of this now; it wasn’t one of those few memories of her that came most often to him. He remembered Grace because of Iris, of course. She had made all kinds of memories resurface, as though he was reconnecting with his life – coming back to life. And now his resurrection was to end. He imagined telling Whittaker that he couldn’t stop him from seeing Iris – and that they were running away together; how defiant he would sound, how idiotic.

In his study, where the grate was still grey with last night’s ashes, a newspaper, tea cup and crumb-strewn plate still on his desk, the curtains still closed, George motioned that Daniel should sit down and went to draw back the curtains. The sun would shine into Daniel’s face, disadvantaging him. He opened the window because the room was warm and stuffy and he was ashamed of this stuffiness as much as he was ashamed of anything.

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