The Forever Girl

10



John Galbraith lived on his own in a house overlooking South Sound. The house was older than others around it, having been built when the land in that area was first cleared. It was modest in scale compared with more recent constructions, and less ostentatious. A recent storm had brought down several of his trees but the house itself was still largely obscured by vegetation when viewed from the road, and it was only once on the driveway that one could see the full charm of the Caribbean-style bungalow. A deep veranda ran the length of the front, giving an impression of cool and shade. The exterior was painted light blue and the woodwork white – a local combination that could still be seen on the few remaining old Cayman cottages. It was a perfect colour scheme for a landscape dominated by sea and sky.

John, who was in his early forties, had been in the Caymans for almost fifteen years, having arrived several years before David and Amanda. He was now the senior local partner in the accountancy firm in which David worked, and would become, so everybody said, an international partner before too long.

He was unmarried – a fact that led to the usual speculation, but none of it substantiated. There were rumours about his private life, of course, about boyfriends, but if these ever reached him, he showed only indifference to gossip, and cheerfully enjoyed the company of women, who found him sympathetic and a good listener.

Amanda encountered John socially at drinks and dinner parties. She and David had been to his house on several occasions, and had entertained him themselves. As a spare man who was good company at a dinner party, he was much in demand by hostesses seeking to balance a table. He could be counted on to talk to any woman he was seated next to without giving rise to any complications. He could be counted upon, too, never to mention business, which formed the core of many of the other men’s conversation. People said there had been a tragedy in his life somewhere, but nobody had discovered what it was. There was one wild theory – risible, Amanda thought – that he had killed somebody in New Zealand, where he originally came from, and had come to the Caymans to escape prosecution.

He was not in when Amanda arrived. She had thought that she would probably arrive too early – it would have taken time for them to dock the other boat – but she wanted to be sure that she did not miss him. She had no idea what plans he might have, but she thought there was a danger that he had been invited to the Hills’ – she knew he was friendly with them – and she would have to see him before that. At the Hills’ it would be too late, as he might say something to David.

She parked her car on his driveway under the shade of a large Flamboyant tree and began her wait. The minutes dragged past; after half an hour, she got out of the car and stretched her legs; after an hour she began to wonder whether she should write him a note and slip it under his front door. It could be brief – a request that he say nothing about seeing her in the boat and offering to give him her reasons later on, when they could meet to discuss it.

She had a notebook with her in the glove compartment of the car, and she took this out and began to compose the note. She was writing this when she heard the car and, looking up, saw John’s dark blue Mercedes coming up the drive. He slowed down as he drew level with her and peered into the car. Recognising her, he gave a wave and continued to the garage at the side of the house.

Amanda left her car and walked up the drive to meet him.

“Twice in one day,” joked John. “Is everything all right?”

“I wanted to thank you,” she said. “But you dashed off.”

He smiled, and gestured to the front door. “Come in. I’ll make some coffee, or something cooler?”

She followed him into the house.

“I must say,” he began, “that I’ve often thought about what would happen if one lost power out there. I don’t have a boat myself, but I’d always have an auxiliary engine if I did. Something to get one back through the reef.”

She agreed. “It seems reasonable.”

He led her into a sitting room at the front of the house. From the windows at the end of the room, there was a view of a short stretch of grass and then, framed by trees, the sea. On the walls there were paintings on Caribbean themes: a Jamaican street scene, a small island rising sharply out of the sea, a couple of colourful abstracts.

He invited her to sit down while he went to prepare coffee. “Where’s David?” he asked. His tone was level. “Working, I suppose.”

“Yes.”

“Not my fault,” he said. “I keep telling him to work less. He puts the rest of us to shame.”

“Yes, I think so too. But …”

He looked at her expectantly.

“This isn’t easy for me,” she said.

He stared at her, and then sat down. He would make the coffee later.


“It’s about today? About that business out at the reef?”

She nodded. “I know what you’re probably thinking.”

He held her gaze. “I try to keep out of other people’s private affairs,” he said. “It crossed my mind that it was a bit … how should I put it? Surprising that you were out there with … what’s that doctor’s name again?”

“George Collins.”

“Yes. George Collins.” He paused. “I hardly know him. I’ve met him once or twice at the usual functions, but they seem to keep to themselves for the most part, don’t they?”

“They do.”

He sighed. “I didn’t think it was any of my business what was happening on that boat.”

“But there wasn’t anything happening,” she blurted out. “We just went out in the boat together.”

He stared at her for a moment, as if he was deciding whether to say something. Then he shrugged. “Well, that’s fine then. You’ve made the point that it was just a casual trip. I’ll go and make coffee.”

“No,” she said. “That’s not the point. The point is that David doesn’t know that I went out. I didn’t tell him.”

He stared at her. “Oh.”

“Yes. I didn’t tell him. George bumped into me at the tennis club and asked me on the spur of the moment.” That was not strictly true, she thought, but it would become too complicated if she had to explain further.

“He just suggested it? Like that?”

“Yes.” She wondered if that sounded implausible.

He seemed to be weighing up the likelihood of her telling the truth. “So what you’re saying is that this was an unplanned outing that you didn’t tell David about. And now you think that David will be …”

“Will be suspicious.”

He looked out of the window. “You must forgive me,” he said. “As a bachelor, I’m not sure that I understand how these things work. Are you saying that a husband would automatically be suspicious if his wife went off on an outing with another man?”

She wanted to laugh. Was he that unaware of how the world worked? “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. And he would be. As would a wife.”

“Always?”

She thought about this. “Well, it depends on the circumstances. You couldn’t go out for dinner with another man, for example, unless you discussed it with your husband first.”

He asked about the position of an old friend of both husband and wife. Could he take the wife out for dinner if the husband was away?

“Of course. An old friend could do that, yes. As I said, it depends on the circumstances.”

“Well, that seems reasonable enough. But …” He frowned. “But you’re telling me that David would think that you and this doctor … George Collins were having an affair?”

She did not answer him immediately. It was possible that David would not form that impression, but there was a good chance he would. She explained her anxiety to John, who listened attentively. But halfway through her explanation, she faltered.

“I suppose I should tell you the truth.”

She saw the effect that this had on him. He drew back slightly, as if offended.

“I would hope you’d tell me the truth,” he said stiffly. “Who likes to be lied to?”

“I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t want to be lied to. The problem is, you see, that I’ve felt attracted to George Collins. I like him. I’d go so far as to say that I’m interested in him, but I haven’t been having an affair with him. We discussed it – yes, we did talk about it, but it hasn’t gone anywhere.”

He looked at her intently. “I’m sorry that you feel you can’t trust me with the truth.”

She was aghast. “But what I’ve just told you is absolutely true.”

“Is it?”

She became animated. “Yes, it is. It is the truth.”

He held her gaze. There was an odd expression on his face, she thought; it was as if he were just about to pull the rabbit out of the hat.

“Well,” he said evenly. “If that were the case, then I must have imagined what I saw from our boat.”

She looked puzzled.

“I saw,” he continued, “the two people in that boat kissing. I’m sorry, but that’s what I saw. I just happened to be looking through my binoculars at the time. We’d seen the signalling and I was interested to see what was going on. I looked through my binoculars.”

She stared at him in silence. George had kissed her – that brief, entirely chaste kiss of relief. It was not even on the lips. A kiss on the cheek. And he had been seen.

“That’s not what you think it was,” she stuttered.

He spread his palms in a gesture of disengagement. “I saw what I saw. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions.”

“He kissed me when he saw that you were coming to our rescue. It was the equivalent of … of a hug. That’s all. There was nothing more to it than that.” She paused. “I promise you, John. I give you my word.”

She could tell that he did not believe her. And had she been in his position, she would not have believed herself either.

“Well, I don’t think it has anything to do with me,” he said. “As I said, I like to avoid getting involved in other people’s entanglements. I know that these things happen, by the way. I’m not standing here being disapproving.”

“I feel so powerless. I can’t make you believe …”

He interrupted her. “You don’t have to make me believe anything, Amanda.”

“I’m not cheating on David,” she said, putting as much resolution into her voice as she could muster. “I want you to know that.”

“Fine. So you’ve told me.”

“But I need to know: will you tell David about what happened today?”

He rose to his feet. His tone now was distant. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to lie. I know you may have little time for it, but I happen to hold a religious position on these things. I will not tell a lie.” He looked at her. “Does that make me sound pompous? Okay, it does. But that’s where I stand.”

She struggled to control herself. Tears were not far off, she felt, but she did not want to break down. “You don’t sound pompous, John. And I’d never ask you to lie. All I’d like to ask you is not to tell him about my being out there in the boat. That’s not a lie. It’s just …”

“Concealment?”

She tried to fight back. “We don’t have a duty to tell everybody everything. That’s not concealment, for heaven’s sake.”

He seemed to reflect on this. He walked to the window and looked out across the grass to the sea beyond. She thought: he’s never been involved in the messiness that goes with relationships. He doesn’t know. He’s a monk, with a monk’s understanding of life, which is not how life is for most of us.

“I’ll not say anything,” he said after a while. “I won’t mention the incident to David, but, and I’m sorry to say you won’t make me change my mind on this, if he were to ask me about it, then I would have to tell him the truth.” He turned to face her. “And that truth would be the whole truth.”

She knew what he meant by this. If he were asked, he would mention the kiss.


She nodded her acceptance. Then she said, “John, may I just say one thing more? I haven’t lied to you today. I promise you that. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Apart from what you’re hiding from David.”

She looked down at the floor. She would not lose her temper.

“You know something?” she said. “You think that you understand things. You don’t, you know. You’ve kept yourself apart from the messy business of being an ordinary human being with ordinary human temptations and imperfections and … and conflicts. You’re looking at the world through ice, though, John.”

His look was impassive, but she could tell that she had wounded him. She had not meant to do that, and she immediately apologised. “I’m sorry. That came out more harshly than I intended. I’m very sorry.”

He held up a hand. “But you’re right,” he said. “I have kept myself away from these things you mention. But have you any idea – any idea at all – of what that has cost me? You don’t know, do you, about how I’ve come back here sometimes, at night, by myself, and cried my eyes out? Like a boy? You don’t know that, do you?”

“I’m sorry, John …”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to burden you with that. It’s nothing to do with you.”

She got up and went towards him. She put an arm around his shoulder, to comfort him. He flinched at her touch.

“I understand,” she whispered. “I understand.”

“Do you? I don’t think people do.”

“They do. Some may not, but most do.”

After that, they were, for a time, quite silent. She moved away from him and told him that she would not stay for coffee after all. He nodded, and accompanied her, unspeaking, to the door. The heat outside met her like a wall.