Chapter 8

My mother was on to me.

But what did she know exactly? And for that matter, how did I know that she knew? These were the metaphysical questions I had been grappling with since she had joined me in the kitchen. At first, she’d greeted me cheerfully enough but soon, our chitter-chatter subsided as I came to realise I was under scrutiny. I felt as transparent as glass. It was a rum thing, this maternal intuition of hers.

What I couldn’t work out was how she knew. I didn’t think anyone had seen what Enide and I had been up to the night before. Even if they had, how would Mother have been made aware of it? I was sure the telephone hadn’t rung this morning. It was all rather baffling.

Not that I harboured any shame, or feared reprimand. After all, I was an adult — newly minted, perhaps — but a fully-fledged one nonetheless. Besides, it wasn’t as if Enide and I were engaging in some deviant or aberrant conduct. Even so, I was inclined toward discretion and preferred to keep things with Enide under wraps, at least for now.

There were a couple of reasons for my reluctance. Firstly, with our families so tightly interwoven, I was keen to avoid any strife or awkwardness. Secondly, having lived apart from my mother and sister for so long, I was ill at ease when it came to broaching certain intimate topics with them.

Mirrla joined us while I helped Mother prepare breakfast. She was already dressed, resplendent in her school uniform. Though it shames me to admit, lewd thoughts flooded my mind as I recalled what Enide had insinuated about the goings on at my sister’s school.

When I came to the table, Mirrla smiled up at me. I smiled back, my face a little tight as I fought back images of uniform-clad schoolgirls engaged in acts of sapphic frottage. I blame this, at least in part, on all the smutty books my friends and I read at school. We traded these in much the same way as cigarettes are in prisons. My proclivity for this kind of fiction did little to make my imaginings less vivid.

Mother began her inquest on a pleasant note. “How were things with Enide last night?” she asked as she joined us at the table.

“Uh, fine,” I replied, reaching for a bread roll.

“You came back late.”

“We stayed in town for a bit,” I replied without elaborating.

“Do anything nice?”

“Oh, nothing special.”

“Did you stop for a drink?”

“Ah, yes ... at the Konnagatt.”

“Not too many I hope,” Mother said, fixing me with a stern look.

“No Mother — just the one,” I reported, resisting the urge to roll my eyes petulantly.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Mother said approvingly. “It was good of you to fetch Eni from the station.”

“Er, yes ... it was no bother.”

Mirrla’s eyes darted back and forth between us like a spectator at a fast-paced racquet game. It was apparent that she knew something was afoot.

“Are you seeing her again today?”

“Uh, yes ... later, I expect,” I stuttered, omitting the fact that I was counting down the seconds to Enide’s arrival.

“What about Andra?”

“Not back till the afternoon,” I said quickly.

I struggled to think of a way to curtail my mother’s cross-examination. In the end, I hastily smeared butter and jam on half a bread roll and stuffed it whole into my mouth. With my mouth bulging, Mother relented and paused her enquiries. She scrutinized me closely, her face bearing a strange expression. Her gaze conveyed both amusement and maternal concern for her firstborn’s welfare, all at once.

Finally, in tacit acknowledgement of my reluctance to speak, Mother smiled and changed tack. Mirrla could barely conceal her disappointment. The remainder of breakfast was spent in pleasant conversation about less delicate topics. Afterwards, I tidied up the kitchen while Mother and Mirrla readied themselves, and then I drove them to their respective destinations before returning home.

I took a hurried shower, worried Enide might arrive and I wouldn’t hear her at the door. Afterwards, I towelled myself dry with all the meticulous attention of a shoeshiner, whistling all the while. I spent a long time brushing my hair, leaving it shiny and glossy, as if it had been licked into place by a gigantic mother cat.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but compare myself to the wealthy boys I had gone to school with. My friends at Fortunbrae were fine people and didn’t lack in decency or humility. But they shared a certain trait — an innate confidence that the fine things in the world belonged to them by natural right.

“Let them,” I thought to myself. The finest thing of all belonged to me and, soon she would be knocking at my door.

That knock came just as I finished smoothing my bedcovers with military precision, hoping they would soon be thoroughly disarranged. I took one last glance in the mirror and decided my hair looked too cared for. With a quick ruffle, I rushed downstairs to answer the door.

Enide was standing with her back to the door, bathed in the warm glow of the spring sunlight that lent her golden hair an ethereal quality. It almost seemed as if she had second thoughts and was about to leave, but she turned around when I opened the door. She was wearing a lovely pale yellow dress and a cream-coloured coat with a wide lapel that reached down to her thighs. A pair of round sunglasses rested atop her head.

She didn’t smile or speak. It wasn’t a good sign — something was amiss.

I wiped the grin off my face and stood aside, wordlessly beckoning her to enter. She crossed the threshold without a sound but lingered close to me, as though she wanted me to kiss her, but her countenance was sombre and she shied away from my gaze.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I asked.

Enide replied, “Can we talk?” and walked down into the lounge without waiting for my response.

After a brief pause in the hallway, I followed her. I won’t deny that my initial reaction was a potent mix of disappointment and frustration, but I managed to calm myself once the initial surge of anger subsided. As it turned out, my concerns were unwarranted. Enide looked so dejected that my only thought was how I could comfort her.

As I approached, Enide looked at me before turning to let me help her out of her coat. The sleeves of her dress were diaphanous, tempting me to run my fingers over her soft skin. A brown and gold scarf was loosely draped around her neck, held together by a simple bronze-tinted brooch. After she turned to face me again, she looked up at me with an unflinching and resolute expression.

I gestured for her to take a seat and sat down beside her on the sofa. We kept a safe distance between us like two wary animals cautiously circling each other.

“Last night,” Enide began, “I let myself get swept up.”

I sighed. “You’ve changed your mind.”

“Have I?” she asked. “I think maybe last night was when I changed my mind — and maybe lost it a little too. Today, my mind is back to the way it was.”

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. “Enide, we talked about this.”

“No, Rody ... we didn’t,” Enide observed. “All we did was let ourselves get carried away.”

“I told you I would defer my place and stay in Earnell for another year,” I reiterated. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes ... I do — Of course, I do,” she said firmly. “And that’s the reason why I have to be honest with you. I know how hard you’ve worked for this, and I understand the sacrifices your parents have made. You can’t throw it all away. I won’t let you.”

“Eni, nothing is being thrown away,” I tried to assure her. “It’s just a year. People take gap years all the time.”

“Fine,” Enide said with a hint of resignation. “Let’s assume we do this. We spend the summer together, we spend next year together ... and then what?”

“Who knows, Enide? Who knows?” I groaned in frustration. “But isn’t that a long time from now? Time we could be spending together?”

“Rody, I ... be honest with me,” her plea sounded like a rebuke. “Are you hoping that I will eventually change my mind — that I will come up to Varcri with you?”

“Enide ... I’m not trying to wear you down, if that’s what you’re asking,” I insisted. “Yes, I hope you’ll reconsider — but if you still want to stay, then I’ll stay too.”

“Give up your place in Varcri altogether?” Enide asked.

“Yes.”

“To do what?” she demanded.

“I can go to Braxa,” I said, referring to the city’s university. “We can pamper suicidal timber sniffers together,” I added sarcastically.

Enide scoffed. “You’d sooner push them off!”

“Right now, yes, I would,” I growled through gritted teeth. “Today ... I’d gladly wring someone’s neck — save them the climb.”

Enide became even more downcast. “Please don’t be angry.”

I hung my head, feeling as if all joy had drained out of me. “Why can’t we be together Eni — why, when it’s what we both want?” I uttered miserably.

“So we spend three years at Braxa — together — then what?” Enide continued, ignoring my question.

“Do you expect me to lay out every step of our life?” I barked.

“I want you to be honest about our future,” Enide said, without conceding ground.

I reclined on the sofa and let my gaze drift upward to the ceiling. My sense of frustration and anger was mounting. I tried to get a grip, to hold back the roiling torrent. I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes, then sat up and faced Enide again.

“Then, Enide ... then I will join the army,” I told her, knowing it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“So, I am to be an army wife after all,” she said forlornly. “You gave up your place at Varcri, delayed everything by a year, and in the end, I still have to become an army wife — the thing I said I didn’t want to be.”

“It’ll only be for five ——”

“You’ll resent me for costing you your place at Varcri,” Enide interrupted. “I’ll resent you for making me an army wife. It’s an awful way to live Rody. You must see it.”

“Enide, listen to me,” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice calm. “Even if I don’t join the army, I’ll still have to do a year’s national service,” I explained. “You have to do a year of national service,” I reminded her.

Enide shook her head, “We can do our national service here,” she countered.

I sighed, recalling how my sister had suggested something similar. “If I serve my national service with the Home Guard, I’ll still end up posted to who knows what part of the country. There is no guarantee it will be here,” I explained. “We both have to do national service — we’ll both have to cope with that, no matter what. Would it be so much worse, if I served another four years?”

“Maybe I’ll stay single then,” Enide said feebly. “Carefree and unentangled.”

“I promise you ... I won’t become a career officer,” I pledged, ignoring her musings. “Five years, and I’ll be finished.”

Enide turned her head, not saying anything.

I wondered if she was softening and tried to press home my case. I slid closer to Enide on the sofa and took her hand in mine. “I don’t know what will happen — or how everything will play out — but I’ll promise you one thing — I’ll never resent you for any of it.”

“You don’t know that Rody,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You don’t know me.”

I let out a weary sigh. “Oh, Eni ... not this again.”

“It’s just sex, Rody,” Enide said. “It’s just ... bodies, glands and secretions — lust,” she continued, sounding almost bitter. She drew her hand from my grasp and stood, pacing the room. “You’ll get over it ... and realise you’ve sacrificed your future for someone who wasn’t who you thought she was. Someone who isn’t the way you want them to be.”

“Enide, I have no idea what you are talking about,” I said, sounding more ill-tempered than I had intended.

Enide exclaimed sharply, “Really!? Shall I spell it out for you?” She marched over to me and squatted on her haunches in front of me. “You have no idea what’s going on around you do you?” she accused. “I’m not some pure, innocent girl who’s been sitting here waiting for you to come back — and I’m not going to pretend to be one. I’m not going to be your perfect little virtuous army wife, Rody. I won’t wait patiently for you to come back while you make a reputation for yourself in some forsaken place.”

“What!? Pure? Innocent? Isn’t this all a bit hysterical?” I demanded harshly. “You really have been spending too much time among the timber sniffers.”

Something about Enide changed — her expression altered and her face became hard. She seemed to have come to a decision, as though she had deliberated within herself and arrived at a conclusion in her own mind.

“Rody ... it’s just sex,” she repeated. “Just bodies ... that’s all,” she added soothingly, speaking as if she were placating a stray. “We needn’t get hung up about it,” she stated calmly, sounding utterly detached. “Here ... let me show you.”

Enide pushed my legs apart, then dropped to her knees between them. She pressed back against my chest and I leaned back before I realised what was going on. By the time the penny dropped, she’d started to run her hands up my thighs, toward my crotch.

“Eni ... no.”

“Rody ... relax,” she whispered as if trying to put me in a trance.

“Enide — stop it,” I demanded more urgently but she didn’t seem to hear me. Enide’s hand continued to glide over my lap as if she were simply smoothing out the pleats in my trousers with a feather touch. Then suddenly she began to deliberately outline the contours of my cock with her fingers, causing me to draw in a breath.

The part of me wanting to put a stop to this was losing out to the part that wanted to let Enide go on. I had enough presence of mind to be ashamed of myself.

Enide reached for my belt, staring me straight in the eye, daring me to stop her. She pulled the flap out of the buckle provocatively with practised ease. Her actions were deliberate like a performance.

“Sit back Rody,” Enide told me boldly. “I know what I’m doing.”

It was as if her words had struck me like a whip across the face. A red mist flashed through my mind. Suddenly, I didn’t feel in control of my body. I saw a vision of myself slapping Enide hard and saw her fall to the floor. I heard the clap of my hand against Enide’s face — heard her cry out in pain. I was drenched in rage.

I suspect I may have blacked out for an instant. I was holding Enide’s wrists in my hands — I had seized them more like — digging my fingers into her arms. I let go of my grip with a start, not out of concern for Enide, but from the disorientating realisation that I hadn’t hit her.

It finally occurred to me to look at Enide’s face. Though she appeared alarmed, she was clearly unhurt — she was un-struck. I could have fainted with relief.

“Stop it,” I repeated breathlessly.

Enide rose to her feet, her expression inscrutable. I wanted to say something, but my wits had yet to fully recover. She retrieved her coat without bothering to put it on and hurried towards the door.

I called after her. “Wait ... Eni.”

She stopped in her tracks and spun around. “Can’t you understand?” She demanded, her voice on the verge of breaking into a sob. “Look how you reacted!” she seethed. I shook my head but was unable to summon the words to counter her.

“I’m not who you are looking for — you are not who I’m looking for,” she berated me with an unsteady voice, laced with anger and venom. “Why don’t you just fuck me and get it out of your system!”

I looked down at the ground, closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. I decided it was best to clamp up and let Enide leave. I wanted her gone. I couldn’t bear to hear her speak like this anymore.

Enide left and closed the front door behind her. I took a deep breath, then another. My mind was racing. For a while, I concentrated on the silence inside the house and tried to clear my head. Without moving, I strolled from room to room, conjuring up as much detail as I could. Nothing stirred — nothing moved — nothing made a sound.

The sound of the convertible’s engine shattered the silence — a distinct bark, followed by a steady growl as it drove away. I realised Enide must have been in the car for a while before setting off. I envisioned her sitting motionless behind the wheel, attempting to collect her scattered thoughts, just as I had been.

I felt wretched.

I needed to get out of the house, to go out and find somewhere to ... be, to think. But first, I had to make arrangements for the afternoon.

The last thing I wanted was to talk to Mother about what had occurred. With her penchant for reading me like an open book, I suspected that my chances of concealing the turmoil between Enide and me were close to nil.

I rang Mother’s office and left word that I wouldn’t be able to collect her after work that day. Instead, I’d leave the car outside her office and make my own way back later.

I drove to town and left Mother’s car in front of the office. The prospect of small talk with a garrulous cabby was beyond my endurance so I didn’t hail a taxi and walked back instead.

On the way back, my mind kept cycling through everything that had transpired. Thoughts kept circling in my mind, over and over, until I couldn’t stand being inside my head any longer. Back in my room, I lay on my bed and spent a fascinating hour contemplating a small indentation on the ceiling.

Before Mother returned from work, I made my exit from the house and set forth to a nearby cafe-bar. I had never set foot inside — it had always exuded a less-than-salubrious air. When we were children, Enide and I used to imagine all manner of dubiousness and unsavoury activities were taking place there whenever we passed its grubby exterior.