House of the Lost

CHAPTER SEVEN

Theo counted the days until that October holiday at Fenn House. The Kendals liked Melbray in autumn, and Helen and Desmond nearly always went to Fenn for two or three weeks. As Helen said, Charmery’s half term usually coincided with the half terms of Lesley and the twins, and Theo could generally come down for a long weekend as well. There were walks through crunchy autumn leaves and one or two local events which they enjoyed, and there was Desmond’s mulled wine which was nearly a legend by itself.

Guff was not there that year; he had gone to Scotland, having become enamoured of fishing – the sweet young thing from the boutique had obtained waxed jackets and waders for him, he said, although he had been shocked at the cost. Nancy was there, though, because of helping with the local Halloween Festival. You could not really trust the residents to get the decorations right, she said, they were apt to tip the thing over into outright paganism if not watched.

‘It is outright paganism,’ said Great-aunt Emily who had arrived in a hired car, pleased to be part of the festivities, but not best pleased at finding Nancy in self-appointed command of the kitchen. ‘It’s an old Celtic festival – I know that because I once had an admirer who was Irish and he told me about the Samhain bonfires. I believe there used to be all kinds of wild goings-on.’

‘Well, we aren’t going to have wild goings-on here,’ said Nancy. ‘I daresay we might run to a bonfire, though. You wouldn’t mind a bonfire, would you, Helen?’

‘Well…’

‘Desmond can make his mulled wine and Lesley and I can go into Melbray to order suitable food. Sausages and spare ribs, I think, don’t you? The twins can come with us, it’ll stop them tearing about the house like ruffians.’

‘Listen,’ said Theo, managing to draw Charmery out into the hall, ‘if we’re to get any time at all to ourselves it’ll be now while they’re unpacking pumpkins and calculating spare ribs. You only wrote to me once, and your phone was hardly ever switched on when I called. I’ve missed you like grim death for the last seven weeks, in fact it’s felt more like seven years. I’ve been through seven separate kinds of agony.’

‘I don’t think there are seven separate kinds of agony,’ she said. She was standing in the deep bay window, staring out at the autumn gardens. The soft light cast a golden radiance over her skin.

‘Charmery, come down to the boathouse with me now. I don’t mean for… I just want you to myself for half an hour.’

She turned to look at him thoughtfully. ‘All right.’ The remembered intimacy was in her voice again and she was the Charmery of Theo’s childhood – the cousin he had known since she was born and who was impossibly beautiful and unbearably exciting. ‘But I hope you want a bit more than just being alone,’ she said in a low caressing voice. ‘In fact after seven weeks I hope you want a lot more.’ She reached for his hand and Theo felt as if he had received a 1,000-volt electrical charge.

They went stealthily across the hall, trying not to make a sound.

‘Grab a couple of coats from the hall as we go,’ said Theo.

‘It’s almost like being children again,’ said Charmery, doing as he asked.

‘Tiptoeing away from the grown-ups, trying not to giggle.’

‘I never giggled.’

‘Yes, you did. I loved it when you giggled. Only don’t do it now. And mind the squeaky hinge on the garden door.’

‘What if somebody sees us?’

‘If it’s Nancy she’ll get the shock of her life to see me in this condition.’

‘Do her good,’ said Charmery, stifling one of the giggles.

The boathouse was cool and dim and smelt of autumn. Theo spread out the coats on the planks, then pulled Charmery against him, kissing her and cupping her face between his hands.

‘Will we hear if anyone comes down the path?’ she said, when he finally released her.

‘I wouldn’t hear if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rode through the shrubbery.’ A sudden stab of conscience made him say, ‘Charm, listen, I honestly didn’t mean to steamroller you into anything. We can just be on our own down here and talk.’

‘I didn’t trek all the way down here just to talk,’ she said, unbuttoning her coat.

‘Yes, but I don’t want this to seem like a…’

‘Quick casual shag?’

‘Well, yes. Although there’s nothing casual about it as far as I’m concerned. You must know how much I love you. You do know, don’t you?’

‘Yes, but stop talking about it and demonstrate,’ she said, pulling his mouth down to hers, and Theo was lost to everything in the world save the soaring bliss of being with her again.

‘Don’t make the boards creak so much,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Supposing they give way and we go down into the Chet?’

‘I don’t care. We’re going to celebrate a pagan festival later, and the pagans didn’t care about creaking planks,’ said Theo. ‘I’ll creak boards and I’ll ford the Chet with all the ferrymen of the world and sail into the sunset with you. I’ll chant pagan spells so that you love me for ever, and leap through bonfires, and—’

‘You sound drunk,’ said Charmery, laughing.

‘I am. I’m drunk on you. I’d quote poetry to you if I could remember any. Wait a minute…’ He foraged in his jacket for the condoms and pushed her back on the folded coats. Her body, when he entered it, felt like silk and she gasped and arched her back, pulling him deeper. Ecstasy seared Theo so violently that his mind seemed to splinter into hundreds of fragments, and the dim boathouse shivered and blurred all round him. For a moment he was afraid he might be about to pass out or have a heart attack, and it would surely be the ultimate irony to die now.

He did not die, of course, and he did not pass out. He tumbled into a helpless explosive climax. He felt Charmery shiver and heard her cry of delight at almost the same time. He wanted to grab this moment and save it for ever.

They were still tangled together, Charmery’s hair tumbling over Theo’s bare chest, when there was the crunch of footsteps outside, and a voice said, ‘Theo, are you in here? Because they want some help pacing out a site for the bonfire.’ The voice stopped, but Theo, jolted out of the warm half-sleep of pleasure, had already recognized it as belonging to Helen Kendal. Her footsteps came along the path, and a shadow fell across the timbers of the landing stage. For a moment there was only the dark outline of her figure against the golden autumn afternoon. Then she stepped into the boathouse itself and Theo saw the horrified shock on her face as she took in the scene that confronted her.

He managed to pull his jacket across his thighs and sit up and say, with as much dignity as possible, ‘Helen – I’m really sorry you had to find us like this, but—’ He broke off. Helen Kendal was white and there was a pinched bluish look round her lips. ‘I know it’s a shock,’ said Theo, wanting to banish the dreadful look, aware that Charmery was sitting up beside him and pulling on her jeans. ‘But you’ve probably suspected how I feel about Charmery,’ he said. ‘I’ve always loved her.’

‘Oh, dear God,’ said Helen and for a moment Theo thought she was about to faint. Then she stood up a bit straighter, as if squaring her shoulders to receive a great weight, and although Theo felt absurd and at a disadvantage sitting in the draughty boat-house like this, he said, ‘This isn’t so very terrible, is it? I know Charmery and I are cousins, but our fathers weren’t brothers, they were cousins, so we’re only second cousins. And I want to marry her in a year or two – it’s what I’ve always wanted.’

Helen was not quite crying, but she was not far off and she was clearly distraught.

‘Theo – you can’t marry her.’

‘I don’t mean right now.’

‘You can’t marry her – ever,’ she said, as if Theo had not spoken. ‘Not ever.’ There was a moment when she seemed to struggle with some huge inner conflict, then she said, ‘You’re brother and sister.’

The golden afternoon outside spun into a confused blur, and the world narrowed to the dim confines of the boathouse. For several moments Theo could not speak and he could scarcely even breathe. This is a nightmare, he thought. It must be. This is the really bad moment just before you wake up. At last, he managed to say, ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s true,’ said Helen, and now she was crying properly. ‘I wish it weren’t. Charmery, my dearest girl, I’m so sorry.’

Charmery was huddled over, hugging her knees, her hair falling forward to hide her face. When Helen made a clumsy movement to kneel next to her and put her arms round her, Charmery brushed her away with an angry gesture. Theo was unable to tell if Charmery was crying, so he turned back to Helen, and with difficulty, said, ‘Could you explain? Is Desmond my real father? Is that what you mean?’ But he was already aware of disbelief, because it was impossible to think of his mother and Desmond together, and it was equally impossible to think of his mother betraying Helen by sleeping with Helen’s husband.

For a while he thought Helen was not going to reply. She was still half kneeling on the landing stage, her arms wrapped about her as if for warmth, but she finally managed to go on.

‘Desmond isn’t your father, Theo. It’s the other way round. Your father was Charmery’s father. John Kendal and I had an affair just before he died. I have no excuses,’ said Helen, helplessly.

‘Haven’t you?’ said Theo, through the choking fury against his father. ‘Did Desmond know? Did my mother know?’ He thought there was a split second before she replied, but then she said, ‘No. Neither of them knew.’

From behind the curtain of hair, Charmery said, ‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Yes,’ said Helen. She made another of the tentative gestures towards Charmery, then recoiled and looked back at Theo. ‘Desmond was very upset at John’s death – they had been as close as if they were brothers, in fact they practically grew up together. I think that’s why he accepted the overseas contract – that Eastern European state you all laugh about. He left in January – mid-1980s it was – and I went out there to be with him in May. You were born out there, Charmery – we stayed until you were old enough to travel back to England.’ She stopped, and Theo saw she was fighting tears again. ‘I told lies and I deceived people,’ said Helen. ‘People I cared about very deeply. But out of it all, I got you, Charmery. I could never regret that. Even now, even this afternoon, I don’t regret it.’

‘Well, thank you,’ said Charmery, and Theo could not tell if she meant it or if she was merely embarrassed. The thought flickered in his mind that he would have expected Charmery to challenge her mother – almost to attack her, but she did not.

‘Theo, in other circumstances I wouldn’t go up in smoke about this,’ said Helen, looking back at him. ‘It was my generation who thought it invented the permissive society, anyway. But given the real relationship marriage would be illegal, and what’s happened today – what’s clearly already happened between you – is certainly unnatural.’

Theo wanted to say it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Instead, he said, ‘If we made sure never to have children— I’d have that operation – a vasectomy.’

‘No!’ said Helen. ‘Theo, my poor dear boy, there’s no way round it. It can’t happen, not under any circumstances. I couldn’t let it happen. I’d have to tell people the truth.’

She was crying all over again, and Theo said, ‘All right. I understand. I suppose you’re right.’ At his side, Charmery was still huddled over silently, as if hugging the misery of it all tight inside her. Theo ached to put his arms round her, but knew, with sick despair, that he could not. Not ever again.

‘For the moment we’d better focus on the immediate,’ said Helen, the tears drying on her cheeks. ‘On getting through the rest of this holiday, including, oh dear God, Nancy’s bonfire. It’ll be a nightmare, but it’ll have to be done. Can you do it?’

Theo did not say he would have to focus on getting through the rest of his life. He managed to say, ‘Yes, I can do that.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and without looking at Charmery, went out of the boathouse and back to the house.

Only then did Charmery push back her hair and sit up straight to look at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘That isn’t what I intended to happen.’

Theo had hoped the world would stop spinning when Helen went away, but Charmery’s words and her tone were sending it spinning in a different direction. She’s apologizing, he thought, and before he realized it, he said, ‘You knew.’

‘I knew Desmond wasn’t my father,’ she said.

‘How did you know?’ Theo made an angry gesture. ‘It doesn’t really matter,’ he said, ‘but tell me anyway.’

‘If you must have the sordid details,’ she said impatiently, ‘I found some old letters last year – mother was having a bedroom re-fitted and there was a massive clear-out going on. There was a big envelope at the top of an old wardrobe stuffed with ancient medical cards and hospital appointments and things, so I looked to see if there was anything interesting.’

‘And?’

‘And there was a letter addressed to Desmond Kendal, dated way back – 1981 or 1982. It was confirmation of some tests.’

‘What kind of tests?’

‘Fertility tests,’ she said. ‘Only he wasn’t – wasn’t fertile, I mean. It was absolutely clear on that. Zero score. Sad, isn’t it? Some childhood illness, it said. But it was absolutely definite and clear. He could never father children, not ever. So I knew he wasn’t my father.’ She reached for his hand. ‘But honestly, Theo, I didn’t know the truth.’

‘Didn’t you ask Helen?’

‘No, I couldn’t. At first I wondered if she’d had – what do you call it? – in vitro fertilization, but I don’t think that was very common or successful in the 1980s. So then I thought she might cry among all the paint-pots and stepladders and give me a lot of guffle about star-crossed love and doomed romances – like Brief Encounter or something equally nauseating. Massively embarrassing to hear one’s mother bang on about some torrid old love affair. I didn’t want to hear it. Lot of slop,’ said Charmery, on a sudden sob.

‘But did you guess the truth? Charm, tell me honestly.’

She bent her head again. ‘I did think it might be your father,’ she said. ‘He sort of fitted the profile – he seems to have been very much part of the scene, and according to all the stories he was very charming.’

‘So I believe,’ said Theo in a hard voice.

‘I didn’t know for certain, though. Does it matter so terribly much? We could be really secret about it…’ She suddenly leaned over to kiss him, and Theo’s lips opened involuntarily and his body responded with the familiar hard longing. When she stopped kissing him, her eyes were wide and shining.

‘It’d be a really exciting secret to be lovers like this, wouldn’t it?’ she said.

‘It’s not exciting at all,’ said Theo. ‘It’s sick.’ But he remained where he was, and after a moment she slid her hand down between his legs. I’ll push her hand away in a minute, he thought. In just a minute… His emotions were in turmoil, but the familiar longing was already spreading through him like a fire. She doesn’t understand, he thought, but in the same heartbeat remembered how she had made him promise not to tell anyone about their love-making in the summer. ‘Not to my parents,’ she had said, and the memory of those words sent a spike of anger through Theo. Had she known the real truth all the time? Had she manipulated him, purely for the excitement of it. It’d be a really exciting secret to be lovers like this…

He managed to say, ‘Charmery, we can’t turn our feelings off like flipping a switch, but we’ve got to try.’

‘Why? No one needs to know. As long as we keep it from my mother and Desmond.’

‘That’s not the point.’ Theo clung to the flicker of angry suspicion that Charmery could have known the truth and it gave him the strength to push her hand away. ‘We can’t do this, Charmery. Helen’s right. Not now. Not ever again.’

A look he had never seen before came into her eyes. ‘What a hypocrite you are,’ she said. ‘So bloody moral and righteous when all the time, you’re bursting your skin to fuck me.’ She stood up. ‘Well, fuck you, brother dear, because you won’t get the chance to do it again.’

Without looking at him, she half ran out of the boathouse. Theo sat for a long time, his mind a churning mass of raw agony. But within the agony the spikes of anger were still jabbing into him. He thought if anything were to drag him through this sick despair, it would be that anger. What if she really did know? She could have done. After she found the medical report on Desmond’s infertility, she’d have been tuned in for any clues about who her father really was. Maybe she came across a letter Helen had kept, or Helen had said something unguarded. Charmery was sharp enough, intuitive enough, to piece together any small fragments. But if Theo once believed this, he might start to hate her instead of loving her.

He realized he was shivering as violently as if he had a high fever, and he managed to go back to the house and up to his bedroom. He pulled on a sweater and sat on the bed, wrapping his arms round his body in an attempt to bring some warmth back. Then he washed and got ready for Nancy’s bonfire. As he did so, he wondered how he could ever forget the sweet softness of Charmery’s lips and the helpless hard arousal between his legs when she kissed him. Even if he really did hate her now, he would go on wanting her for the rest of his life.

He returned to Cambridge and his final year, but when it came to the finals he did not get the prophesied double first. ‘A very near miss, apparently,’ said his tutor ruefully. ‘I suspect you’ve burned the candle at both ends these last few months.’

‘I have but it gave a lovely light,’ said Theo.

‘Don’t quote to the converted,’ said his tutor sharply. Then, relenting, he said, ‘I think it was more a matter of the mental energy going in other directions, wasn’t it? All those sketches for the Footlights for instance.’

But Theo knew he had lost the double first because of Charmery. There were endless nights when he lay awake aching for her, and when he thought he heard her voice inside the rain pattering on the windows. On those nights he almost wished himself living in the Middle Ages so he could order an alchemist to conjure her up there and then, and he came very close to reaching for the phone, just to hear her voice. But if once he talked to her he would want to see her, and he was afraid of discovering he did not care that she was his sister.

Despite what Helen had said, he wondered whether his mother had known or suspected the truth. She had never, for as long as he could remember, stayed at Fenn House for longer than was absolutely necessary. Was it because she knew Charmery was her husband’s love-child and could not bear to see her more than she had to? But if so, surely she would have hated Helen, and she never had. So it looked as if she had not known. Theo considered asking Petra, but knew he could not. If she really didn’t know it would tear her apart.

But although he won the many fights not to phone Charmery, news of her filtered back to him in gossipy trickles. She left school the following year, and as Petra had prophesied, did not go on to university or seem interested in doing so. The family grapevine reported that she travelled quite a lot – there were two or three months in America, and six months in France, and then another six months in Switzerland. Theo guessed Helen had deliberately arranged this to keep Charmery out of his reach. The rest of the family viewed these travels with disfavour, even Aunt Emily, saying anybody would think Charmery was a debutante or an eighteenth-century fop taking the Grand Tour. Nancy thought it all very extravagant and just hoped Desmond had enough money to fund all this gallivanting. Better if Charmery had trained for a proper job, said Nancy; Helen and Desmond should have insisted on it while the girl was still at school.

‘I don’t know what century Nancy lives in or how she copes with her sixth formers,’ observed Aunt Emily. ‘Parents haven’t been able to insist their children do anything for at least twenty years, even I know that.’

Unexpectedly, it was Theo’s mother who said, ‘But nobody’s ever been able to insist that Charmery does anything she doesn’t want to do.’