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Authors: Anita Brookner
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Adam.
‘I’m afraid he will have to come to terms with it.’
‘Look at it from his point of view, Zoë. He is of a different generation. As, I suppose, I am.’
‘That argument doesn’t hold water. All women are in the same boat now. The Women’s Movement . . . ’
‘Yes, I have heard of it,’ she said drily.
‘We’re free now,’ I went on. ‘We don’t have to respect men, be grateful to them. It’s their turn to respect women, to allow them some space . . . ’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that space. What will you all do in it, apart from complain?’
‘Your generation didn’t complain enough!’ I said furiously. ‘I wonder if you realize that?’
‘Of course I do. But really opportunities for change are so rare. I was brought up to admire men, to be grateful to them. I may have wanted freedom, but I also wanted protection. Support and protection. I hope you never find out what it is to live without either.’
It seemed as though we were having an argument. Her voice was slightly raised, her indignation unmistakable.
‘And are you grateful?’
‘Of course I’m grateful. Simon has given me more than I expected, certainly more than I deserved.’
‘There you go again. Deserved!’
‘Yes, deserved. There was no way, as you would say, that I could otherwise have entertained hopes of living in the sun, with a man who is kindness itself.’
‘Why didn’t he like Adam? Why was he so rude?’
‘He wasn’t rude, darling. He was shocked. And really your friend’—still my friend, not Adam—‘was quite rude himself.’
‘It was because he felt unwelcome.’
‘That’s unfortunate, certainly. But I don’t think he had any thoughts of that kind. He just found us very dull. Not what he was used to, perhaps.’
‘You didn’t like him either.’
‘I did, in fact. I could see he was attractive. But Simon was so put out that I had to take his part. You and I are his family, after all.’
‘Why has he no family of his own?’
‘I believe there is a nephew somewhere, but they seem to have lost touch. Now he has only me. And you, of course. Come back and see us soon, darling. Don’t be upset. We love you; we love to see you. You know you can always invite one of your other friends.’ She meant my girlfriends, or, as we were now trained to say, women friends.
‘I’ll think about it. In any event I’ve got exams soon. I’ve got a lot of revision and so on.’
‘Yes, of course. We’ll talk on Saturday. And it would be nice if you had a word with Simon. He does miss you, you know.’
I nearly asked her if she were happy, but realized in time that this would strike her as ill mannered. Besides, I had no further wish to know. The subject was closed. As Adam had said of his own mother, her happiness was not his affair. I could never achieve his degree of insouciance, which I privately considered astonishing. But as my ambition now was to resemble him as closely as possible, I left the matter of my mother’s happiness unexamined.
6
My studies ended—satisfactorily, to my surprise—and my working life began. Almost immediately I was given a thesis by a Japanese professor to work on: the grammar needed checking, hesitant English to be tactfully corrected. This would keep me in London for the rest of the summer, for which I was oddly grateful. Between Nice and London there reigned an air of embarrassment, even of constraint. My mother, while continuing to assure me that they both longed to see me, was equally anxious, or so it appeared, that another visit on my part might be postponed. I surmised that she knew about Simon’s watchfulness, was shocked both on his behalf and on mine, and no doubt also on her own. I doubt whether she ever brought this matter into the open, but I did not doubt that she knew about it, may even have witnessed it. I preferred not to understand what may have passed between them on that night, which I now viewed with horror. She would have had to be
‘I’m afraid he will have to come to terms with it.’
‘Look at it from his point of view, Zoë. He is of a different generation. As, I suppose, I am.’
‘That argument doesn’t hold water. All women are in the same boat now. The Women’s Movement . . . ’
‘Yes, I have heard of it,’ she said drily.
‘We’re free now,’ I went on. ‘We don’t have to respect men, be grateful to them. It’s their turn to respect women, to allow them some space . . . ’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that space. What will you all do in it, apart from complain?’
‘Your generation didn’t complain enough!’ I said furiously. ‘I wonder if you realize that?’
‘Of course I do. But really opportunities for change are so rare. I was brought up to admire men, to be grateful to them. I may have wanted freedom, but I also wanted protection. Support and protection. I hope you never find out what it is to live without either.’
It seemed as though we were having an argument. Her voice was slightly raised, her indignation unmistakable.
‘And are you grateful?’
‘Of course I’m grateful. Simon has given me more than I expected, certainly more than I deserved.’
‘There you go again. Deserved!’
‘Yes, deserved. There was no way, as you would say, that I could otherwise have entertained hopes of living in the sun, with a man who is kindness itself.’
‘Why didn’t he like Adam? Why was he so rude?’
‘He wasn’t rude, darling. He was shocked. And really your friend’—still my friend, not Adam—‘was quite rude himself.’
‘It was because he felt unwelcome.’
‘That’s unfortunate, certainly. But I don’t think he had any thoughts of that kind. He just found us very dull. Not what he was used to, perhaps.’
‘You didn’t like him either.’
‘I did, in fact. I could see he was attractive. But Simon was so put out that I had to take his part. You and I are his family, after all.’
‘Why has he no family of his own?’
‘I believe there is a nephew somewhere, but they seem to have lost touch. Now he has only me. And you, of course. Come back and see us soon, darling. Don’t be upset. We love you; we love to see you. You know you can always invite one of your other friends.’ She meant my girlfriends, or, as we were now trained to say, women friends.
‘I’ll think about it. In any event I’ve got exams soon. I’ve got a lot of revision and so on.’
‘Yes, of course. We’ll talk on Saturday. And it would be nice if you had a word with Simon. He does miss you, you know.’
I nearly asked her if she were happy, but realized in time that this would strike her as ill mannered. Besides, I had no further wish to know. The subject was closed. As Adam had said of his own mother, her happiness was not his affair. I could never achieve his degree of insouciance, which I privately considered astonishing. But as my ambition now was to resemble him as closely as possible, I left the matter of my mother’s happiness unexamined.
6
My studies ended—satisfactorily, to my surprise—and my working life began. Almost immediately I was given a thesis by a Japanese professor to work on: the grammar needed checking, hesitant English to be tactfully corrected. This would keep me in London for the rest of the summer, for which I was oddly grateful. Between Nice and London there reigned an air of embarrassment, even of constraint. My mother, while continuing to assure me that they both longed to see me, was equally anxious, or so it appeared, that another visit on my part might be postponed. I surmised that she knew about Simon’s watchfulness, was shocked both on his behalf and on mine, and no doubt also on her own. I doubt whether she ever brought this matter into the open, but I did not doubt that she knew about it, may even have witnessed it. I preferred not to understand what may have passed between them on that night, which I now viewed with horror. She would have had to be
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