Ultimate Prizes. Susan Howatch

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Ultimate Prizes - Susan  Howatch


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expand on his buccaneering career in the Church. His purpose in calling at the vicarage that morning was to thank Alex for recommending him to the Bishop, but he wound up by delivering an insufferably priggish lecture on the theme that the ultimate prize for any priest – as a bigoted Anglo-Catholic he always called clergymen ‘priests’ – could only be union with God.

      ‘How did I manage to keep a civil tongue in my head?’ demanded Alex as soon as Darrow had stalked out. ‘I must be getting saintly in my old age! And to think that according to Lyle her husband remains one of Darrow’s most devoted admirers!’

      ‘Ashworth’s busy being an army chaplain in North Africa. If he was trying to run an archdeaconry where Darrow was on the rampage, he’d soon modify his admiration, I promise you! What on earth will life be like at the Theological College once that pirate prances through the front door?’

      ‘I prophesy charismatic wonders, incense in the College chapel and a collective nervous breakdown for the remaining staff. And talking of nervous exhaustion … Am I forgiven for speaking my mind to you about Grace last night?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘I really am sorry if I upset you, Neville.’

      ‘My dear Alex, let’s ring down the curtain on the scene and forget all about it!’

      ‘Very well, but before the curtain finally reaches the ground, may I just ask if you’re taking my advice about bearing Grace off on a second honeymoon?’

      ‘Drop the subject, Alex, there’s a good fellow – just drop it,’ I said, brandishing a voice of steel alongside my friendliest smile, and he hastily began to talk of other matters.

      But that night in the bedroom I found myself saying to Grace: ‘How would you like a week’s rest before the school holidays begin? We could leave Primrose and Sandy in Manchester with Winifred and go to a hotel in the Lake District.’

      Grace, who had been brushing her hair, paused to stare at me in the triple mirror. ‘But is it still possible to take holidays there?’

      ‘I’m sure it is. Holiday-makers are only banned from the south and east coasts.’

      ‘But I couldn’t possibly leave Sandy with Winifred! He’d wear her out.’

      ‘Maybe she wouldn’t mind being worn out in order to give you a rest! After all, you’re always saying what a wonderful sister she is.’

      ‘Yes, but she’s not as patient as I am, and –’

      ‘No one’s as patient as you are with that little monster! Personally I think a touch of impatience now and then would do him no harm at all!’

      ‘But Neville –’

      ‘Why are you beating around the bush like this? The issue’s really very simple: do you or don’t you want a second honeymoon?’

      ‘I suppose I’ll have to say I do, won’t I?’

      ‘For heaven’s sake!’ I exclaimed, no longer making any effort to conceal my exasperation. ‘What sort of answer’s that?’

      ‘The sort of answer which I’m sure you require of a perfect wife.’

      ‘Grace, if you weren’t so constantly obsessed with perfection you wouldn’t make such ridiculous statements!’

      ‘I obsessed by perfection? But Neville, you’re the one who’s obsessed! You – chasing the prizes of life, never able to rest, never being satisfied –’

      ‘What rubbish, of course I’m satisfied! I’ve got the perfect wife, the perfect home, the perfect family – I’ve won all the ultimate prizes of life! Well, nearly all of them –’

      ‘Darling, listen to me.’ Rising to her feet she turned her back on the triple mirror and we faced each other. ‘I’m not a prize. I’m a person. I can’t just be kept in a glass case on a mantelshelf. I have to move in the real world, and in the real world I can’t be this perfect wife of your dreams. I do try to be – I keep trying and trying – I try so hard because I don’t want to disappoint you, but –’

      ‘You could never disappoint me.’

      ‘No? Supposing I tell you that I don’t want to go away to the Lake District unless we take Sandy and Primrose with us? Darling, we simply can’t dump them on poor Winifred for a week! It’s just not fair to her, and besides I wouldn’t enjoy myself – I’d spend my whole time worrying in case they were unhappy. I admit I do want a rest, but I’d much rather wait until our family holiday in July.’

      ‘Very well.’ I turned away.

      ‘Neville –’

      ‘No need to say another word. You’ve spoken your mind and I still think you’re perfect. Happy ending. Now let’s ring down the curtain on the scene and forget I ever mentioned the idea,’ I said in the most equable voice at my command, and withdrew at once to my dressing-room.

      V

      I found myself unable to concentrate on the Evening Office, and an attempt to pray proved futile. However when I eventually returned to the bedroom in my pyjamas Grace said at once: ‘Darling, could we compromise? If we changed our plans and spent our family holiday in the Lake District instead of Devon, we could leave all five children with Winifred for the first forty-eight hours and have that little holiday alone together after all. I don’t think Sandy could destroy Winifred in two days, and since Christian and Norman are old enough to be helpful with the younger ones, I wouldn’t spend all my time worrying about how they were getting on.’

      ‘Splendid! I’ll cancel Devon immediately.’

      ‘We’ve left it rather late in the day to change our plans – and of course it would involve a longer journey just when the government’s telling us we shouldn’t travel unless we have to –’

      ‘We do have to – and I’m sure we can easily find a cottage to rent. I’ll look at the holiday advertisements in today’s Church Gazette.

      She kissed me. ‘You’re not cross with me any more?’

      ‘My dearest love!’ I said. ‘When have I ever been cross with you?’ And before either of us could answer that question I took her in my arms.

      VI

      The letters began to arrive. Dido wrote as she talked: fluently, with eccentric punctuation. She used a pencil which always began sharp and ended blunt, probably as the result of her copious underlinings.

      ‘Dear Archdeacon, before I bare my soul to you I must tell you all about my background so that you can see my troubles in some sort of illuminating perspective …’

      I learnt that her father had made a fortune by profiteering during the First War, and had consolidated his wealth by adventurous skulduggery in the City. He was currently chairman of an enterprise called the Pan-Grampian Trust and now played golf regularly with various luminaries of the Bank of England in an effort to consolidate his hard-won respectability. In addition to his house in Edinburgh and his nine-bedroom flat overlooking Grosvenor Square he had not only the usual millionaire’s castle in the Highlands but a country mansion in Leicestershire where his daughters had pursued their passion for hunting. His wife, however, never left Edinburgh.

      ‘… poor Mother is a good person but very shy. How glad I am that I haven’t inherited this devastating handicap! Fortunately Father’s mistresses have all possessed gregarious dispositions in addition to superb connections in society, so my sisters and I have been able to surmount the difficulties which were inevitably created by Mother’s beautiful retiring nature.

      ‘Merry (that’s my sister Muriel, now Lady Wyvenhoe) and darling Laura (who became the Honourable Mrs Anthony Fox-Drummond) and I (who’s


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