She went on and on as she followed a smouldering Julia back to the house, stressing the importance of Hugh’s career, and how clever he was. Strange how two women could see a single man so differently, Julia thought. Ann patently believed every word she said, and heartily approved of Hugh-the-automaton. But it was because Julia didn’t believe he was really like that that she loved him. Are we both projecting our own needs on to him? she worried. Does Hugh only exist as we perceive him? Or has he a separate existence which neither of us can see or understand? If she could see him, talk to him alone, she might be able to resolve some of her confusion.
Chance was a fine thing. Hugh had perfected the art of avoiding people, and unwelcome confrontations. Julia was frustrated at every turn, but a brief conversation with Connie persuaded her to force the issue.
‘He’s not really serious about her, is he?’ Connie mourned to her, the day before the exodus from Craemar. ‘I mean, honestly, at least I used to be able to rely on Hugh’s predictability. Lately he’s been impossible. I thought perhaps you …’ she trailed off with unaccustomed delicacy, raising her eyebrows expectantly.
Julia was warmed by her partisanship, but compelled to say: ‘I thought Ann was getting on rather well with all of you.’
‘And straining at the seams in the process,’ Connie said acidly. ‘She comes from an old family, you know, and silly as it seems in this day and age I think she feels that the Marlows are a little outré. She has these fantasies about Hugh … and you must admit it isn’t de rigueur for a New Zealand Prime Minister to have an actress for a mother and a rock singer for a brother.’
Julia gave her a strained grin. ‘You sound as pompous as Hugh sometimes.’
‘I know, darling. Infectious isn’t it? But can you imagine Ann putting up with us on an in-law basis? And we see little enough of Hugh as it is.’
‘She sticks to him like glue!’ Julia burst out. ‘And he hardly ever talks to me anymore.’
‘She’s scared, poor thing. Not half as confident as she looks—though she’s got the hide of an armadillo, and an equal amount of sensitivity. Like me to draw her off for you, so you can sink a word in edgeways?’ She tossed out the invitation casually.
‘Would you? I mean … there’s something that needs to be said.’ She would explode like an over-heated pressure cooker soon, if she didn’t.
‘Of course there is,’ said Connie placidly. ‘This afternoon, after lunch.’ And at the nervous gleam in Julia’s eye: ‘I’ll be the soul of discretion, darling.’
For once she was. As they rose from lunch Connie corralled her victim and bore her off to Michael’s study to read his play: ‘Being an English Honours, I’m sure you’re interested. It’s about the conflict between machines and man … there’s a marvellous part in it for me …’
They had barely passed through the study door before Julia was upstairs, knocking tentatively at Hugh’s door.
‘Come in, Ann,’ came the call, and Julia was pleased to hear the barely disguised impatience. So Ann wasn’t welcome any time of the day or night!
Her appearance earned her a double-take. ‘Julia!’ He recovered at once. ‘What do you want? I’m very busy.’
‘I’ll wait.’ She walked over to the fire, deliberately picking his wing chair to sit in, scuffing off her shoes and tucking her feet up.
With a sigh he carefully capped his pen and laid it down, centring it precisely on the papers in front of him. But he made no move to get up. ‘What is it that’s so important?’
‘You. Me. Us.
And her. She’s a bore.’
‘Ann is extremely intelligent.’
‘And beautiful,’ agreed Julia. ‘An extremely intelligent, beautiful bore. The conversation must be riveting when you’re alone. Do you sit and stroke each other’s egos?’
‘Isn’t this a bit childish, Julia?’ he asked tightly. Julia wondered if she had struck a nerve.
‘On the contrary.’ She gave him a provocative look.
‘We’ve been over this …’
‘No we haven’t. You wouldn’t let us. You’d rather bury your head in the sand … or should I say hide behind one hundred per cent woollen skirts, imported, naturally,’ she parodied the drawl. ‘Why can’t you be honest with me?’
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed on her small face, purified by the white light of the spot above her head. ‘But I have been honest. You just won’t accept it. I admit that on an elemental level I find you attractive, but not overwhelmingly so, as Sunday night should have told you. Consider it a momentary aberration.’
‘Aberration, nothing!’ cried Julia, furious at his coolness. ‘And it wasn’t momentary either. We were both naked and in your bed. The only reason we aren’t lovers is because you’re afraid of the depth of your own desires. Or else you’re a virgin, which I doubt, from your expertise!’
‘Don’t make this harder than it is, Julia.’
‘I want to go to bed with you, you want to go to bed with me. I don’t see what’s so hard about that,’ she persisted, pushing small, clenched fists against her thighs. She mustn’t let him steamroll her.
‘Then you’re even more naive than I thought. What you want, I can’t give.’