The House at the Edge of the World by Julia Rochester Read Free Book Online Page B

at us all.
     ‘Please,’ he said, to Jane, ‘tuck in.’ He held the bread basket
     towards her. ‘I’m sorry that there’s no bread,’ he said.
     ‘I’ve been neglecting my duties.’ She took from it a piece of damp
     Ryvita. Corwin cut himself a huge chunk of the cheese that we had found lurking at the
     back of the fridge and from which we had removed the mould. I understood that we were
     hungry, and that this salad in front of us, bursting with tomatoes and radishes and
     spring onions and boiled eggs, was somehow miraculous – blessed even. Suddenly I had an
     appetite for the commiseration food in the freezer. I was going to eat it all. Matthew
     said, ‘I’m sure we must have a bottle of wine somewhere. Corwin, would you
     find some wine to offer our guest?’
    Corwin, whose charm had been slipping a
     little, revived and jumped up from the table. He was reminded that there was no weapon
     in Jane’s arsenal as powerful as Matthew’s amiability, and this cheered him
     enormously. Matthew turned to me. ‘Morwenna, dear. Glasses.’ I took from the
     sideboard the crystal glasses that had last been used for Christmas dinner. Jane pushed
     the salad around on her plate. She had nibbled a tiny cardboard corner of Ryvita and
     abandoned it. Mum ate nothing. She sat and glared with a furious despair at Matthew, who
     was eating heartily, as though she were about to hurl herself upon his sword.
    Corwin came back with wine and poured a
     glass for everyone, even Jane, who attempted to demur. She was about to say something,
     but Matthew lifted a glass and said, ‘I think, don’t you, that now that we
     are gathered, we should say a few words about John?’
    Corwin and I stopped eating. Jane sat back
     in her chair and murmured embarrassed assent. Mum’s expression, fixed on Matthew,
     remained combative. Under the table, Corwin tookmy hand. Matthew said,
     ‘We can’t pretend to share our grief. Each of us is alone with our own sense
     of loss and we may not intrude upon each other’s emotions. However, we may make a
     simple toast: to our beloved John. May his soul find peace.’
    Corwin and I muttered, ‘Dad!’
     Jane pushed her nose towards the glass with a cat-like sniff, and Mum laughed and said,
     ‘Christ, Matthew. You always were a pompous old arse! But here’s to John –
     or what’s left of him.’ Theatrically, she lifted her glass and took a good
     challenging swig. ‘You and John!’ she said. ‘All that tramping over
     the cliffs communing with the elements!’ She stopped herself. ‘OK,’
     she said. ‘That’s enough of that! What happens next?’
    ‘Well,’ said Matthew, pushing
     off gently on Mum’s wave of hostility. ‘In the absence of a body, we have to
     petition the court to issue a death certificate.’
    ‘I know all of that,’ said Mum.
     ‘I’m not an idiot. I was there when that infant policeman was explaining it
     all to us. I meant, what happens with me? Your pleasant arrangement with John was based
     on the assumption that you would cop it first, which you haven’t.’
    Corwin opened his mouth to frame a question,
     but Mum said, ‘Shut up, Corwin. You keep out of this.’
    ‘Keep out of what?’ I asked. I
     was beginning to realize that I was the only person in the room who didn’t know
     what was under discussion.
    ‘Your dear father and grandfather held
     the view that it was too vulgar to discuss money and property,’ hissed Mum.
     ‘They just did this tasteful, gentlemanly “One day, son, all this shall be
     yours” thing. Only it shan’t.’
    Jane allowed herself a smug little sip of
     wine, as though modesty prevented her taking any credit for the quality of Mum’s
     performance.
    ‘Mum, don’t you think
     you’re being just a little bit melodramatic?’ asked Corwin, in his best
     conciliatory voice.
    ‘Oh, hark at you,
     Little Lord of the Manor-in-waiting!’ retorted Mum.
    The room darkened a shade or two. Outside,
     the mist was