The Adulteress Read online

  ‘Well, goodness, Charles, your nephew is in bad form,’ said Mother, her racquet resting on her hip, giving Captain Sanderson a hard glare.

  ‘Yes, I can’t think why.’

  Mother raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. She and Ashley Judge were playing against Captain Sanderson and Min. Though preoccupied in her flirtations with Ashley, our mother sensed something else carrying on, on the other side of the net.

  Years later Captain Charles Sanderson admitted to my Robert over a late-night glass of Scotch that it was during this very match of tennis that he fell in love with Min. Like a miracle, she released him from his tortuous infatuation with our mother. He said he could see all Min’s attributes on the court: her competitiveness, yet her fairness; her sense of fun, yet her ability to use her mind and play strategically. He said she moved as gracefully as a ballerina, her beauty beguiling him. She inspired him to play the best game of tennis he had ever played in his life, better even than before he was crippled with his bad leg.

  In the short hour it took them to beat Ashley Judge and our mother, Captain Sanderson had shed the weight of his grief, which had been oppressing him since the day his dear wife had died, and which he had attempted to block by attaching himself to our mother, a married woman. But it was Min who touched a place within him that was tender, a part of himself he had only ever shown to Meryl Sanderson before. Within that hour Charles decided he had found a new wife, for he and Min displayed all the possibilities of a perfect union on the tennis court: energy, intuition, good communication, coordination, vitality and victory. As Dr Redwidge called out, ‘Game, set and match’, Captain Sanderson shook Min’s hand and looked into her eyes. My sister smiled even more broadly than before, knowing that, yes, she had won.

  NICHOLAS

  Nicholas picks Kevin up in Virginia. His friend had never learned to drive, so he is taking the bus from Dublin to the Cavan town of Virginia. It’s late. Nicholas waits in his parked car, the dog on the seat beside him, watching the cars as they drive through the town. It’s six in the evening and the traffic is non-stop. He can see men in dark suits, driving silver BMWs and Mercedes as they power down the road, on the way home to their bored wives, and spoilt children. There are lots of women too, usually in people-carriers or shiny black SUVs, some with children, but the odd blonde in a coupé zips by. His car is an old Volvo estate. It is big, which has been useful for transporting builders’ materials, and it is reliable. Living in Dublin, Nicholas hadn’t noticed it so much, but here everyone seems to be in new cars. Watching the Friday-night traffic he realizes that Ireland has changed dramatically since he first came over from England and got married to Charlie. He wonders whether Charlie wanted him to be more like those successful professional men in the big, powerful cars. Was his lack of ambition a disappointment to her? She had often commented how could they possibly consider bringing a child into their home when they lived so hand-to-mouth? He had tried his best, started to teach the piano privately and even got pupils in a couple of the local schools. She had lived off him, because she hardly made any money from her art. Yes, why was it that he was expected to teach, but when he asked her to do the same she said no, she wouldn’t have time to paint?

  ‘It’s different for you,’ she said. ‘You aren’t composing music. You perform. You can still do that if you’re teaching, but if I’m teaching it takes up all of my creative brain.’

  ‘And what would you do if I wasn’t here, paying the rent, buying food?’ he asked crossly.

  She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and sashayed across the room towards him. It was early in the morning and she wasn’t fully dressed. ‘I guess I would starve, Nick.’

  She put her arms about him and pressed her body, still damp from the shower, against him, her wet hair tickling his neck. His anger dissipated.

  ‘You could always sell your body,’ he joked.

  ‘No one would want me. I’m too skinny.’

  He pushed her back on the bed. ‘Not for me.’

  Nicholas grips the steering wheel, staring at Virginia high street, trying to banish the memory of that morning from his mind. He lets out an involuntary moan and the dog looks up at him, ears cocked.

  On the bed with Charlie, peeling her damp pants off and leaning over her, and feeling rich because she was his. She was so light that when they made love she made him feel like a big man, powerful and strong, like those guys in the Mercedes. When was that morning they made love? It wasn’t so long ago. Within the last year, but before – surely it was before – it had happened? Maybe even then she had been lying to him. Maybe he should have changed himself, gone out and made some money, although he didn’t know quite how he would have done that. He grits his teeth. Where the hell is Kev?

  Finally the bus pulls up, and Nicholas gets out of the car and waves over at Kev as he gets off.

  ‘Christ, I didn’t realize you lived so far away.’

  ‘We’ve half an hour’s drive yet. Wait until you see where the house is.’

  ‘What’s the dog called?’ Kev asks as he puts his rucksack in the boot, and Nicholas moves the dog into the back.

  ‘Hopper.’

  ‘Cool. After the painter?’

  Nicholas pauses. ‘No, because he hops.’

  The two men look at each other and burst out laughing.

  ‘Bloody hell, you better help me get my head out of my arse. I’ve been hanging around too many artists,’ Kevin says as he gets in the car.

  Nicholas is glad Kev has come now, grateful even. None of his other friends had bothered to visit.

  ‘Let’s get a Chinese on the way home,’ he says. ‘I don’t feel like cooking.’

  A full moon fills the kitchen with light, as the two men sit on the doorstep smoking, Chinese takeaway boxes littered about them.

  ‘This place is magic, Nick,’ Kev says, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

  Nicholas looks at the orchard, the trees lined with silver, shadows whispering between them, and listens to the solitude, the peace he inhabits. He imagines the ghostly June Fanning floating between the trees, young, beautiful and pregnant. A seed within her beginning to grow, her girlhood falling away, her womanhood ripening. Kev continues to talk.

  ‘I love the trees. They are so twisted up, like bent old men. I’ve got to take some pictures of them tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t forget you’re down here to help me dry-line.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ says Kev unenthusiastically. ‘Will we go to the pub?’

  O’Mahony’s is fairly full. Everyone looks at them as they walk in. Everyone knows who Nicholas is, but he doesn’t recognize a soul. He wishes now they had stayed at the house and just drunk beer, but Kev doesn’t seem to care what the locals think.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he says cheerily to the assembled company as he makes his way to the bar and orders them two pints.

  Nicholas sits down under the TV. All of the bar stools are taken up, and a small group of men are playing cards on the counter. There are three clusters of couples in different corners of the pub. The men on one side of the table, and the women on the other. Suddenly he is aware of someone looking at him. A woman. He realizes with a jolt it is Geraldine. She looks completely different with make-up and her hair hanging down around her face. She has an awful red lipstick on and too much blusher. She smiles and waves, and when she does this the man sitting next to her looks up and stares at him. Nicholas realizes he will have to go over now.

  ‘Hi, I didn’t recognize you for a moment.’

  ‘Oh, yes – well, I have my glad rags on,’ she says, shifting in her seat. She is wearing a shiny pink top, which is too tight for her. It looks terrible against her hair and skin.

  ‘Ray, this is Nick,’ she titters, and Nick can see she is a little drunk.

  The man reaches out his hand, but he doesn’t smile. He is a lot older than Geraldine, with wiry grey hair and thick grey eyebrows.

  ‘Oh, you’re the fella who teaches the piano?’
he says. ‘Bought the Reilly place? Belonged to the Fannings before that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nick shakes his rough hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  Ray looks him up and down, and Nick knows he is assessing him.

  ‘And do you make a living from teaching the piano?’ he asks.

  ‘Kind of,’ Nicholas replies.

  ‘Kind of?’ Ray sneers, and Nicholas knows he doesn’t like him. He can see Ray thinks he is weedy, just by the way he is looking at him. To be honest, Nicholas wouldn’t like to get into a fight with him. Ray might be older than him, but he looks as tough as old boots. ‘I don’t know why she wants to learn the piano,’ he says. ‘It’s a bit late now, isn’t it, Geraldine?’

  Geraldine colours, unable to reply.

  ‘It’s never too late,’ Nick counters.

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe if you’ve the time to be doing such things. Some of us have to make a living, you know. All right for these women, hey?’ He gives Geraldine a jab with his elbow and she smiles weakly.

  Kev comes up behind Nick, one pint in each hand.

  ‘This is my friend Kevin, from Dublin.’

  ‘Would you like to join us?’ Geraldine asks, but Ray has already turned to the man beside him and is chatting away.

  ‘Thanks, but we’ve seats over there,’ Nicholas indicates. ‘I enjoyed meeting your granny.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s great. She liked you too.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Kevin asks as they return to their table.

  ‘One of my new piano pupils.’

  ‘Right-o. Husband looks like a caveman.’

  ‘Yeah, poor woman.’

  ‘She doesn’t seem your type though, mate.’

  Nick pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Your woman. She’s a bit large for you, isn’t she?’

  ‘Kev. She’s my pupil, not my girlfriend.’

  ‘Well, she fancies you, it’s obvious.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Come on, maybe you should go for it. When was the last time you had a shag?’

  ‘Shut up, Kev.’

  ‘I couldn’t go without it for long. It’s murder while Jackie’s in Greece. I might have to stray.’

  Nick looks at Kev in astonishment as he sips his pint, giving himself a white moustache.

  ‘Last time she was in America for three months I had this hot weekend with this Spanish student over for the summer. What was her name? Monserrat – that was it. Loved her name. And her tits, for that matter.’ Kev chuckles.

  ‘Are you pulling my leg, Kev? Have you been unfaithful to Jackie?’

  ‘It didn’t mean anything, Nick. It was just sex. Christ, don’t get so high-and-mighty. Jackie and me have been together since we were twenty. I mean, I love her – you know, want to have kids with her one day – but Christ, that’s a long time. It’s only natural you might have the odd slip-up. I’m sure she has.’

  ‘But do you know she has?’ asks Nick, his heart beginning to beat fast in his chest.

  ‘Well . . . not for sure. It’s always better not to talk about these things. If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s where you went wrong, mate. Never confess.’

  Nicholas can feel his cheeks burning.

  ‘What did Jackie tell you about me and Charlie?’

  ‘She didn’t tell me anything actually. She’s loyal to Charlie, you know. But, I mean, it’s obvious Charlie was crazy about you, so I thought – you know – that you must have done something—’

  ‘Me!’

  ‘Come on, Nick, don’t tell me you’ve never been unfaithful to Charlie?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  There is a pause. Canned laughter and clapping floats down from the TV, and Nick can hear Geraldine’s husband laughing loudly with the man he is sitting next to.

  Kev looks at him. Nick can see he is a little drunk, but not so drunk that he cannot see that Nick is telling the truth.

  ‘Christ! Are you serious? You’re a bloody miracle.’

  He pauses, and takes a drink from his pint.

  ‘But then, if you didn’t do the dirt, why did you guys break up?’ Kev asks. But before Nick has a chance to reply he slaps his forehead. ‘When Jackie said it was a matter of fidelity, I thought she meant you, but it was Charlie. Wow, I’m sorry. Do you know who he is?’

  ‘No,’ Nick says tightly. ‘Some artist. She wouldn’t tell me. It happened in London, when she went over for a show.’

  ‘So that’s why you broke up? Just because she screwed some guy in London?’

  ‘She betrayed me, Kevin.’

  ‘That’s how you feel, is it?’ Nicholas can feel Kevin’s gaze penetrating him.

  ‘How can you sleep with someone else, if you are in love with your partner?’ Nicholas challenges him.

  ‘Are you saying I don’t love Jackie, then?’

  Nicholas fumbles with his words. He knows that Kev loves Jackie, but they are different from Nick and Charlie. Those two were free spirits, open flirts – it wasn’t surprising to learn that either one of them might have cheated on the other. They weren’t even married. Kev had never made that commitment to Jackie. But he and Charlie were different. They had got married. They had promised themselves to each other. Of course he had been tempted, but he had never wanted to destroy what they had. And no woman had ever held a light to Charlie. She had been everything to him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Kevin is looking at him, his eyes filled with concern. Nick puts his hand up to his face. His cheeks are wet. He’s crying, and he doesn’t even know it.

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘Here, I’ll get us a shot each. I think you could do with it.’ Kev stands up to go to the bar. Then he leans down and puts his hand on Nick’s shoulder. ‘Life’s a bitch, sometimes.’

  Nick looks up at him. ‘Kev, do you know if she’s still seeing him? Is she in Greece with him?’

  Kevin looks taken aback. ‘Of course not, Nick. Jackie and Charlie went to Greece on their own. She’s not seeing anyone. She’s in bits, Nick. When you left she was devastated. That’s why Jackie took her away. She was worried about Charlie.’

  Nick watches Kev go to the bar. He wipes the back of his hand surreptitiously across his cheek, hoping no one has noticed he was crying. It is dark in here, and no one seems to be minding them. But when he looks up he sees Geraldine looking at him, and he knows she has seen. She smiles at him kindly and he looks away. He doesn’t want her pity. His head is wrecked. He doesn’t understand why Charlie did what she did, if she was so upset when they broke up? She knew what he was like. She knew about his pride. When she slept with that artist in London, she knew she was ruining their marriage.

  They wake late, heads hammered from too much drink. Hopper wants to go with them for a walk, but Nicholas is worried he isn’t strong enough.

  ‘We can always come back,’ says Kev, slinging his camera bag over his shoulder. ‘Come on, the sun doesn’t look like it’s going to stay out for long.’

  It rained heavily during the night, and the ground is soggy as they walk through the orchard, the leaves still dripping with water. But it is warm already and there is a misty steam rising off the land. Nicholas feels sweaty, although he has just had a shower. Hopper hops along, and Nicholas keeps stopping and waiting for him, but the dog seems happy sniffing in the roots of the trees and trying to raise his damaged leg to pee every so often.

  At the back of the orchard there is a broken-down old gate.

  ‘Did you know you’ve plums there, Nick?’ Kev points to two trees beside the fencing.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘You can make us some jam when we get back!’

  Kev laughs, pushing the gate aside and entering the cool woods. There is a very overgrown path leading through the trees. He goes on ahead, and Nicholas slows down to keep pace with Hopper. Flies buzz around his head, although it is early yet, and he sees a few rabbits dashing into the undergrowth. Hopper sees them, stiffens, but thinks better of chasing after
them.

  ‘Good boy.’ Nick pats the dog and is rewarded by a lick on his hand.

  The wood smells strongly, a tangy, fresh aroma like pine, although these are not pine trees. It is as if the rain has soaked all the scents of the wood and wrung them out in the air, which is thick and cloying, full of insects, and sunlight. Huge thistles line the path, with big purple heads, and there is an abundance of dandelions. It has only been a couple of weeks since he walked in the woods and yet it feels as if there has been a riot – all the rain has caused the vegetation to go wild.

  He turns a corner and sees Kev taking pictures of the trees. It is a small gathering of beech trees on thick mossy ground, which looks like green carpet. Hopper pauses and looks at Nicholas. He sniffs the air. Nicholas looks behind him. He can hear someone, he is sure of it, pushing through the undergrowth, but when he steps back and looks again there is no one to be seen.

  ‘Just a bird, Hopper,’ he says.

  But he can’t shake this feeling of someone shadowing them, even when he reaches Kev and the two of them walk together through the trees.

  ‘Can you hear anything?’ Nicholas asks him.

  ‘Like what?’

  Nicholas turns around. ‘I don’t know, someone behind us.’

  ‘Nope. These are private woods, aren’t they?’

  ‘Strictly speaking, they belong to the people who live in that house.’

  They have reached the other side of the woods and are facing a thick hedgerow, behind which Nicholas can just see the top of the Creavys’ house. So this was where Claudette Sheriden lived. Just a short walk between the Sheriden house and the Fanning cottage. He walks up to the bushes and pushes them out of his way. There is a huge wall of nettles within them, but he uses a stick to beat them down. Kev starts taking more pictures, close-ups of the nettles and leaves.