‘Although I’d quite like to see him behind bars, in solitary confinement for the rest of his life,’ said Geraldine. ‘But not for that reason, of course. Just as a punishment for what he’s done to Jillie.’
She and Peter, intensely liberal minded, were appalled at the way homosexuals were treated by the laws, had joined one of the many campaigns to change them. It would be unthinkable to give the real reason for the cancellation of the wedding; but what one could they give?
Jillie had said she didn’t want the real reason known. ‘Not to save his skin,’ she added. ‘Just because it makes me look so stupid and naive.’
Geraldine went upstairs to Jillie, knocked on the door of her room. She was quiet now, lying on her bed, staring in front of her. Alice sat beside her looking helpless.
‘Alice – Jillie – I’m so sorry to press this, but we do have to get an announcement out, both in the form of personal letters to our friends, and in the press, tomorrow morning if possible. Certainly to our friends.’
‘I’ve got one suggestion,’ said Alice. ‘Couldn’t you just say that Jillie and Ned have decided, by mutual agreement, not to get married? Then it doesn’t sound as if Jillie is in any way a victim.’
‘I think that, or something like it, could well be the answer,’ said Geraldine slowly. ‘It will give rise to gossip, of course, but anything will. Jillie, what do you think?’
‘I think that would be all right. I keep telling you, say what you like.’
‘I’ll go and talk to Peter,’ said Geraldine. ‘Put the suggestion to him.’
Peter said he thought it was the best suggestion by far: ‘But we’ll have to tell Ned. Personally, I’d like to horsewhip him, but if he doesn’t know he may concoct some quite different explanation of his own. I’ll ring him.’
Ned answered at once.
‘Ned,’ said Peter, ‘I haven’t rung with recriminations – there’s nothing I can say that could possibly express my anger and disgust at what you’ve done to my daughter. I simply want your approval to this suggestion of the announcement we’d like to put out.’
‘I’ll approve anything. You can tell the truth if you like,’ said Ned wearily.
‘I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. No, this is the form of words –’
Ned agreed instantly.
‘Good. I’d only like to add that if I hear you are telling people anything else, I shall take you to court and sue you for breach of promise. Or rather Jillie will. And then it possibly would all come out. I’m not threatening you or blackmailing you, I’ve no interest whatsoever in your future. My only concern is for Jillie and her reputation and emotional well-being. Do I have your word?’
‘You do.’
‘Good.’ Peter put the phone down. And then sat thinking how much he liked Ned and had been looking forward to having him as a son-in-law. God, this was a damnable business.
The announcement was made, the presents sent back, and after the inevitable tidal wave of gossip and shock, everyone got on with their lives and forgot about it. Except, of course, the main players in the drama, who continued to grieve and to withdraw from human contact as best they could. Geraldine’s friends tried to wheedle another explanation out of her; she told them firmly there was none, and if they raised the subject again, their friendship would be at an end. Mercifully, there was no conjecture in the press as to any other reason, although reporters haunted number five for a few days, trying to find one.
Nobody in the world, outside the immediate closed circle, knew the real reason – apart from Ludo Manners, and of course Ned’s mother who had been fearing that something of the sort might happen for many months. She too kept silent. There was a fairly distressing scene when she telephoned Jillie and asked if she might come and see her; Jillie told her that she would rather be fed to the lions than have Persephone in the house.
‘I cannot think you have anything to say to me that I would wish to hear. Please leave me alone in future.’
Persephone travelled from Cornwall to see Ned the day after the announcement was made.
‘Well,’ she said, looking around at the disarrayed house, littered with whisky bottles, and at his white face, his eyes red rimmed with exhaustion and grief. ‘At least you had the courage to do it in the end. For which I have to admire you. But oh, Ned, why, why did you ask her to be your wife?’
‘Because I was afraid,’ said Ned, his anger at the laws that had driven him to it dispersed briefly to Persephone. ‘Afraid of being found out, branded, of imprisonment, although I believe one can opt for what’s known as chemical castration, given a fairly liberal judge. It has a very unfortunate effect on the brain, and indeed the whole of one’s body, as a side effect. I’d be afraid of losing the position in my profession I have worked so hard for, and indeed of losing most of my social circle. And I genuinely love Jillie so very much I thought it would be all right. I longed to spend the rest of my life with her, to have children. But it was not to be.’
‘Well, they’ve let you off very lightly,’ said Persephone, ‘with that announcement. They’d have been within their rights to tell the truth.’
‘I know that. I told them if they did I would not deny it. But they are an intensely liberal family. One evening at dinner I remember Peter raging at the iniquity of the laws against homosexuality. They had some QC present, who of course disagreed with him; I remained as silent as I could, but I said I agreed with Peter. He asked me if I had any homosexual friends, and of course I said I didn’t. Which I don’t.’
‘Not even Ludo Manners?’ said Persephone.
Ned looked at her in wonder. God, her antennae were effective.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘For God’s sake, Mother, he has four children, been married to Cecily for fifteen years.’
‘I know,’ said Persephone. ‘And wasn’t that precisely what you were planning?’
He was silent; then said quite savagely, ‘If you ever utter one word of suspicion about Ludo I swear I shall kill you.’
‘Darling, don’t be so ridiculous. Now, I’m going to clear this place up and then we are going out to dinner. I’ve booked a table at the Caprice.’
‘Mother, I can’t go to the Caprice. I can’t go anywhere. I’m an outcast.’
‘Well, you can’t stay here for the rest of your life. Otherwise, all the sacrifices you’ve forced on poor Jillie will be in vain. You are becoming a well-known paediatrician – don’t squander that as well. Go and have a bath, shave, put on a decent suit and drive me to the restaurant.’