stay for as long as she could. But the child, said Maria. Nevertheless Sarah’s invitation was so pressing that she summoned the courage to ask Martin whether he would approve the idea of her taking a long holiday, for the sake of their marriage, as she rather quaintly put it. To her surprise, Martin was agreeable, although in fact there was nothing very surprising about this at all, he was profoundly bored with Maria’s company and the origin ally very limited fun of kicking her about the house was already wearing off. He suggested that a nanny should be engaged to look after Edward, and chose for this purpose Angela, a typist from his office with whom he had been having an athletic sexual relationship for several months. Maria did not suspect this, for some reason. But then she had gone very soft since her marriage.
And so for nine months she enjoyed freedom, a sort of freedom anyway, the freedom to live in one of the world’s great cities, away from her husband. They were happy days, full and enriching, sunny for the most part but with always, in some corner or other, an element of shade, and not the cool and beckoning shade to which one retreats from the blaze, but the advancing gloom, dank and noisome, of her return to England and to Martin. Towards the end of her holiday this shade became so oppressive, so consuming, that Florence came for Maria to be a place of horror, and she decided to cut short her stay, leaving early one morning after writing a hurried note to Sarah, and arriving home the next day, nearly a month sooner than her husband had been expecting her.
‘There’s just one thing, Maria,’ Martin had said, that evening, after they had eaten together, and talked, for all the world as if they were a happily married couple pleased to be together again after long separation, ‘I think that Angela should continue to live here. You will find her a great help. Edward, of course, has become very attached to her. She has become indispensable to me.’
Maria now knew what he had meant.
‘You called her darling,’ she said.
Martin ignored this comment, or possibly didn’t hear it, for it was spoken very quietly.
‘You will confirm, won’t you, my sweet,’ he said to the nanny, sliding his arm around her waist, ‘that I have been the tenderest and most considerate of husbands to Maria. You would tell the court, wouldn’t you, love of my life, of her ill treatment of Edward, her cruel neglect, her failure to fulfil her obligations towards her loyal and devoted spouse.’ He turned to Maria. ‘Angela and I will marry, of course. I spoke to the vicar about it last night. The honeymoon is all arranged. We fancy a short cruise, in the Mediterranean. The tickets are all booked.’
‘Supposing,’ Maria began, but couldn’t be bothered.
‘There is no chance, my dear, simply no chance at all, of my losing the case. A divorce will be granted, on the grounds of irretrievable breakdown of marriage. Even if I choose, out of motives of sheer human decency, to suppress the fact of your adultery, I will have no difficulty in proving unreasonable behaviour. You failure to satisfy me sexually is evidence enough of that. Can you consider the humiliation involved, the self-hatred, in having to turn to a servant, a mere domestic dogsbody, for physical gratification? As for the custody of Edward, there will be no argument about that. Your unsuitability as a mother is obvious. You have attempted suicide. You have deserted him and left him to be brought up by a complete stranger while you cavorted around Europe. The court will have no hesitation in giving him over to the care of his father and his beloved nanny.’
After a silence, the nanny asked, ‘Are you going to put up a fight?’
She looked at her husband, and shivered, and shook her head. Maria knew when she was beaten.
7. Redunzl
To lose her son pained Maria no end, but to be free of Martin was in every other way a relief. It freed her to move to London,
And so for nine months she enjoyed freedom, a sort of freedom anyway, the freedom to live in one of the world’s great cities, away from her husband. They were happy days, full and enriching, sunny for the most part but with always, in some corner or other, an element of shade, and not the cool and beckoning shade to which one retreats from the blaze, but the advancing gloom, dank and noisome, of her return to England and to Martin. Towards the end of her holiday this shade became so oppressive, so consuming, that Florence came for Maria to be a place of horror, and she decided to cut short her stay, leaving early one morning after writing a hurried note to Sarah, and arriving home the next day, nearly a month sooner than her husband had been expecting her.
‘There’s just one thing, Maria,’ Martin had said, that evening, after they had eaten together, and talked, for all the world as if they were a happily married couple pleased to be together again after long separation, ‘I think that Angela should continue to live here. You will find her a great help. Edward, of course, has become very attached to her. She has become indispensable to me.’
Maria now knew what he had meant.
‘You called her darling,’ she said.
Martin ignored this comment, or possibly didn’t hear it, for it was spoken very quietly.
‘You will confirm, won’t you, my sweet,’ he said to the nanny, sliding his arm around her waist, ‘that I have been the tenderest and most considerate of husbands to Maria. You would tell the court, wouldn’t you, love of my life, of her ill treatment of Edward, her cruel neglect, her failure to fulfil her obligations towards her loyal and devoted spouse.’ He turned to Maria. ‘Angela and I will marry, of course. I spoke to the vicar about it last night. The honeymoon is all arranged. We fancy a short cruise, in the Mediterranean. The tickets are all booked.’
‘Supposing,’ Maria began, but couldn’t be bothered.
‘There is no chance, my dear, simply no chance at all, of my losing the case. A divorce will be granted, on the grounds of irretrievable breakdown of marriage. Even if I choose, out of motives of sheer human decency, to suppress the fact of your adultery, I will have no difficulty in proving unreasonable behaviour. You failure to satisfy me sexually is evidence enough of that. Can you consider the humiliation involved, the self-hatred, in having to turn to a servant, a mere domestic dogsbody, for physical gratification? As for the custody of Edward, there will be no argument about that. Your unsuitability as a mother is obvious. You have attempted suicide. You have deserted him and left him to be brought up by a complete stranger while you cavorted around Europe. The court will have no hesitation in giving him over to the care of his father and his beloved nanny.’
After a silence, the nanny asked, ‘Are you going to put up a fight?’
She looked at her husband, and shivered, and shook her head. Maria knew when she was beaten.
7. Redunzl
To lose her son pained Maria no end, but to be free of Martin was in every other way a relief. It freed her to move to London,
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