The Water's Lovely (38 page)

It was what she had waited for these past thirteen years. The truth would come now, she knew it. It should be happening at home in the house Andrew was going to take her away from, not here in this new, pretty, newly furnished flat. Truth can be told everywhere, she said to herself, it has no home, and she wondered if she had made that up or was quoting from something she had read.

‘You did kill Guy, didn't you? You did drown him? I haven't been wrong all these years? It wasn't Michael, was it? Michael wasn't in the house that afternoon?'

Heather looked steadily at her. Her face was no longer indignant or incredulous but sad, as if she had carried a great sorrow for years and perhaps she had. ‘No, you haven't been wrong,' she said. ‘Michael – God, no.' A silence fell. They sat there like two people who have just met and can't speak the other's language. Then Heather said, ‘I think you've just been wrong about why.'

‘You did it for me. Because you thought I needed protecting from Guy. You thought I didn't like the way he came on to me. But I did. I encouraged him. I was fifteen – what did I know? Then he got ill. He was very ill, you know, he had a terribly high fever. Mum thought he was going to die. I must have been very selfish. I just saw it as keeping him from me. I used to hope he'd come to my room at night and get into bed with me and his illness – well, it postponed that. You haven't got much patience when you're a teenager.'

‘I know that,' said Heather. ‘I mean I know all that, what you're saying.'

She had gone very white. Heather was normally very healthy-looking with tanned skin and pink cheeks but now all that colour seemed to have drained away. Lines appeared between her eyebrows and above her cheekbones. She aged ten years. Ismay watched her hands curl into fists and clench hard. ‘I know how you felt about Guy,' she said, ‘and how he felt about you.'

‘You can't have. You were thirteen.'

‘I know because he told me. I don't know how to put this, Issy, but he wasn't – well, a good person. People used to say someone like him was wicked but “wicked” means something else now. It means nice or lovely. Guy wasn't either of those things. He was a paedophile.'

Ismay didn't know why she was appointing herself his defender. She felt Heather was being unjust. ‘You can't call a man a paedophile because he fancies a fifteen-year-old who sets out to attract him. I really did do that. I sort of lay in wait for him. If he came on to me I came on to him.'

She hesitated, realising suddenly that she was doing it, she was talking about it to Heather. The impossible was happening, the something she had known she would never do. Here she was, doing that impossible
and Heather was answering, white-faced, stricken Heather with her clenched hands and eyes that stared. ‘I suppose I was in love with him,' she said. ‘He was a sort of forerunner of Andrew. Andrew looks a bit like him, don't you think?'

‘More than a bit,' said Heather. She let herself slump forward, dropping her shoulders in a conscious effort to relax. Her voice was steadier. ‘That was why I found it so hard to talk much to him. I found it hard to be ordinarily nice to him and of course he noticed. But sometimes I'd find him sitting in the flat and I'd fancy for a moment it was Guy sitting there.' She looked suddenly cold but didn't quite shiver. ‘I really hated Guy,' she said.

‘Would you tell me what happened that day?'

‘The day I drowned him?' It was horrible to hear her say it so openly in that stark, cold voice. ‘Can I have some more wine, please? I said that to my mother-in-law once and she said she'd never known a guest in her house ask for anything before. Sorry, I'm stalling.'

‘But you did drown him?'

‘Oh, yes. Of course I did. I'll tell you. I'll tell you now and I won't put it off any longer.' Heather took a long slow draught of her wine and shivered a little. Then she began. ‘You remember I was going to go out that afternoon. I was going to play table tennis at my friend Greta's. Guy was in bed. I suppose he was asleep. I don't know. I never went into that room when he was in it. Greta phoned and said not to come because she had to go with her mother to see her gran in hospital. I went out into the garden. Do you remember that swing seat we had? I sat on that with a book I was reading. It was
Tess of the d'Urbervilles
and I thought it was the most boring book I'd ever read. But I did finish it – oh, yes, I finished it. Somehow I can't leave a book I've started unfinished.

‘The french windows to the balcony were open and just before four I saw Guy come out on to the balcony in his dressing gown. He saw me and he called out, “Hi, Heather. Lovely day, isn't it?” ' It was but I didn't answer. I didn't look up. A bit after that I heard the water running. I'll always hear that sound, Issy, the running of water, the flowing of water. It's not that I don't like water, the sea, swimming and all that but it seems to have an importance in my life sort of out of proportion. Anyway, I sat there, trying to read that sad miserable book and soon I heard the running water stop and I knew Guy must be in the bath.

‘The day before when Guy was downstairs I'd been in their room to borrow a comb because I couldn't find mine. While I was there I must have taken my cardigan off and left it on a chair. It was a warm day but starting to cool down and I needed my cardigan. Nothing would have made me go into that room when I knew Guy was there but he wasn't. He was in the bath.

‘I went upstairs and into their bedroom. I couldn't see my cardigan. Mum had put it in my bedroom but I didn't know that. The door to the bathroom was wide open. He must have heard me, though I was careful not to make a noise. He called out, “Heather, would you bring the shampoo in here, please?” I didn't want to. I didn't believe he'd wash his hair in the bath. But I did take it in. I don't know why.'

‘He was in the bath and he called you in? A girl of thirteen? Heather, is that true?'

‘Oh, yes, it's true. This is all true. You know I won't lie. I went in and he was in the bath and the bath was full of foam. You know how it is with a foam bath. You can't see the person's body. I remember I was thankful for that. You could later – when the foam went. I put the shampoo on the shelf thing by the taps, not looking
at him, and then he said something to me. Something awful or I thought it was at the time. It
was
when you think how old I was. I mean, how
young
. I thought, I'll stop this now, now before it's too late, and I picked up his feet and lifted them up high and his head went under – and you know the rest.'

It was very silent in there, high up above London. From the window in daylight you could see tall landmarks, the dome of St Paul's, the Post Office Tower, and in the distance on a fine clear day the silver-grey shine of the river with an unidentifiable bridge over it. Tonight, in the winter dark, it was just a spread of lights, some still, some winking in varied colours, one which flashed brightly every few seconds. Ismay walked away from the window and sat down again.

Heather said, ‘What are you going to do?'

‘I don't know. You said I know the rest. I don't really. What did you think
you
were going to do?'

‘After I'd drowned him? He fought and struggled but he was weak, Issy. Under the water he was so white, sort of parchment colour. I could see him very clearly because all the foam had gone. Funny thing, wasn't it? All the foam had gone. My dress was wet and my legs were wet. I dried them on a towel but not my shoes. I didn't think of my shoes. You asked me what I thought I was going to do. I thought I'd run away. It was the only thing I could do, though I didn't know where I'd go or anything.

‘That's why I came downstairs. I hadn't heard you and Mum come in. I hadn't any money or any clothes with me but I came down because I thought I'd go out of the front door and run away. You were there, looking up at me, and I couldn't speak. Mum spoke to me. She said, “Why are
you so wet, Heather? Where have you been?” and then I spoke. I said, “In the bathroom. You'd better come.”'

‘And we did and found Guy drowned. Someone must have phoned the police but I don't remember who. Not me.'

‘It was Pam. Mum phoned Pam. She came straight over. The police came later. And a doctor, though anyone could have seen he was dead. All the time I was thinking I couldn't run away now. We didn't talk to each other at all, you and I and Mum. Mum wasn't in the sort of state I'd have expected. She was calm. I was terribly frightened, Issy. When the police came, the inspector and the other one, I thought they'd take me away, and then Mum told them we'd all been out together, buying school uniform, but I hadn't gone into the shop, I'd waited outside. I suppose even then I knew she'd said that so that if they questioned the shop man he'd say I didn't try on any clothes. And I said that was right. And you said the same.' She paused. ‘You say I don't tell lies – well, I did then, about as big a lie as anyone could.'

‘The inspector is the man Marion Melville married.'

‘Really? I suppose this was his manor or whatever you call it. I wonder if he remembers. After he'd gone and the other one had, I expected you and Mum to ask me what really happened and I couldn't understand why you didn't. I thought Pam might, but she had other things on her mind. That was when Michael left her. Why didn't you ask?'

‘I don't know. I suppose if we didn't ask we could go on accepting Guy had done it himself. That it was an accident, I mean. One thing we did do. We tried it out to see if you could have done it. Mum got into the bath and I lifted her feet up and her head went under and she couldn't have pulled herself up till I let go. So we knew you could have done it.'

‘If it wasn't all so ghastly,' said Heather, ‘I could laugh. At the idea of you and Mum doing that, you know. Was it knowing all that which drove Mum crazy?'

‘I don't know. No one knows. It was easier for me. After all, presumably she'd loved Guy. She had that loss to bear. And she couldn't have known why you'd done it. I did.'

Heather looked at her curiously. ‘Why did I do it, Issy?'

‘For me,' Ismay said. ‘To save me from Guy. Even if I didn't want to be saved, you thought I ought to be, didn't you? Nothing had happened, though I'd wished it would. I knew you'd done it for me and I think that's the reason I never told anyone.'

‘I didn't do it for you, Issy. I did it for me.'

It was as if she was trying to speak a language in which she'd only had a few lessons, a strange tongue whose grammar she hadn't even begun to master. ‘What do you mean? I don't understand what you mean.'

Heather nodded. ‘That night we stayed at Pam's – do you remember that? – and we both came downstairs because there was a wasp in our room. Do you remember?'

‘Of course I do. That was when Guy first saw me.'

‘He saw two girls, Issy, not one. He saw me as well. I think we both attracted him but you – you have to forgive me for this – showed pretty plainly what you felt. And you were older. That was part of the trouble. Did you never wonder why you got all that kissing and fondling but nothing more? Why he never did what you wanted and came to your bedroom?'

‘I suppose I thought there wasn't the opportunity. Or maybe he was scared of going that far.'

‘He wasn't scared,' Heather said. ‘He came to mine.'

This time Ismay was silent, looking down at the
empty wineglass in her hands, not daring to meet her sister's eyes. Outside, halfway up in the sky, that single light flashed on and off, on and off. She was as Heather had been when she came down those stairs, speechless.

Heather went on, ‘I don't want to hurt you but since I'm telling you all of it, I have to tell you this. Guy wanted you but he stopped wanting you because you so plainly wanted him. Does that make sense? I said he was a paedophile. He kissed you and had you sitting on his knee to distract attention from me. But I was the one he wanted because I didn't want him. That's the kind of man he was. He told me so. He said, I need a girl who looks like a woman but who's innocent like you are. You don't want it now, he said, but I'll make you like it. You'll see. That was when he came to my room and – well, did it to me. There was only the once. He got ill after that. What could I do? I couldn't tell Mum. It's the old story. That's how men like Guy operate. She won't tell and if she does they won't believe her.'

It was surely the longest speech Heather had ever made.

‘He actually had sex with you? He raped you?'

‘Yes, you could call it that. I didn't struggle, though. I was afraid he'd hurt me. Well, hurt me more.'

Ismay put her head in her hands. Just for a moment. ‘What did he say to you when he was in the bath and you went into the bathroom?' she asked. ‘You said he said something awful to you.'

‘Yes. Maybe if he hadn't said it I'd never have drowned him. He said, “How about coming into the bath with me, Heather? The water's lovely.”'

‘Oh, God, Het. He deserved what he got.'

‘I don't know how many times I've heard those words. “The water's lovely.” Every time I've been to the seaside. It always makes me wince.'

‘Let's finish the wine. Do you know, I can tell you now, I was so worried about it all when you met Ed that I thought I'd have to tell him, sort of not let him marry you without knowing this thing about you.' She poured the last of the wine into their glasses. ‘I never did tell him, of course.'

‘Oh, Ed knows,' said Heather. ‘I told him.'

‘You
told
him?'

‘I had to. A few days ago. I told him everything.'

‘What did he say?'

‘He said he loved me and we'd never talk about it again. He didn't exactly say I was justified but that's what he meant. And we have talked about it again. He does love me and things are just the same – I think – but still … He never used to be sad, Issy, but he's sad now.'