Isabelle ~ 8

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Chapter Eight

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After loading the dishwasher and clearing the table, they had some free time. Isabelle wanted to know where Frederick was, but he was playing football in the garden with a few other boys. “Amazing,” she whispered.

“What would you like to do?” asked Philip, who had no idea what he could do that did not involve more sitting on his bed.

“I don’t know. What do you usually do?”

“I watch TV or go to my room or do the crossword or go shopping or play football. But you’re not dressed to play football,” he observed, frowning as he realised that he felt fifteen and not as adult and educated as he was supposed to be. What did you do with a female guest? The same things as with a male guest?

“Should I be?” she asked, misinterpreting his frown.

“No,” he said hurriedly. He could not imagine her joining in a game. “I was merely critical of my not being more creative than a boy of fifteen. And I’m realising I don’t even know how old you are.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that important? I’m twenty-two. Could I use your parents’ phone? I’ll pay. I’d like to tell Oscar we’re over. I just want to have that behind me.”

“It’s in the hall. I’m sure you won’t have to pay.” He might even pay her to do that. It would otherwise feel as if he was forcing her to cheat on a boyfriend.

“Overseas calls are expensive. It always costs me so many coins.”

Philip left her in the hall and went to the sitting room where his mother had started to read a book. “Isabelle is using the phone, is that all right? She said she would pay.”

“That’s considerate, but I’m sure it won’t be necessary.”

He picked up the newspaper and started on the crossword. Someone had already started it, which made it a little easier. He half expected his mother to start questioning him, but she did not. Of course she might save that for when it was no longer quiet enough to read her book. These quiet moments had to be savoured indeed.

Isabelle returned after a very long time. “I put a few pounds by the phone,” she said. “But I have no idea if that covered it.”

“You don’t have to pay for the phone,” said Philip’s mother.

“I insist. I had to make so many calls to reach people.”

“You don’t look relieved.” Philip did not know what he had been expecting.

“Well,” she began slowly, apparently not minding that his mother could hear. “It turned out to be complicated. First he would not accept what I said. So I was firm and I also phoned my mother to say what had happened. I mean, to say I had broken up with Oscar, but that he seemed reluctant to believe it. I didn’t say I was here.”

Philip’s mother lowered her book.

“My mother seemed pleased I had done that, but she warned me that it had somehow come to my father’s attention that I was not at Estella Edgerley’s house and that he was about to send a delegation to England…”

“You said they would not care.” Philip ignored his mother dropping her book into her lap at the mention of that name.

“That’s what I thought,” Isabelle said with a grimace. “But apparently Oscar went to Estella’s and found out I hadn’t been there at all and he contacted my father…”

“I should consider it a huge pro not to have been at Estella Edgerley’s house,” Philip’s mother remarked dryly.

“Ah, you’ve read about her.”

“Your father has not?”

“Her parents are acquaintances of my aunt Suzanne’s…” She gave that a shrug. “But I asked my mother to tell my father to call off the search, because I’m safe. I suppose, though, that when I get back they will confiscate my car, so that I won’t be able to go anywhere anymore.” She rubbed at her eyes. “But who would come here to see Frederick?”

“You’re twenty-two.” He was now glad he had asked that earlier. “They cannot do that.”

Philip’s mother put her book away carefully, under the couch. Things were apparently not safe on the couch in a house full of boys. “Are you serious? You will be punished because you were not at this friend’s house? Or because you lied about where you were?”

“I don’t know if I lied, because I have every right to change my mind while I’m driving.” She spoke as if nobody could argue with that. “And if my parents are not home, why should I inform them that I’ve changed my mind?”

“But why would you?”

“Mum!” Philip tried.

“They would somehow not say anything if I went to visit Estella, but if I said I went to England to see Frederick, my father would not approve. It would make Frederick a sissy.” Her voice choked.

“And what of this man you mentioned?”

“Oscar. I was sort of seeing him before I went here.”

“Sort of.”

“I was never really – and now I knew. So.”

Philip wondered if his mother could make sense of that cryptic explanation.

“Perhaps my father liked him more than I did,” Isabelle continued. “For reasons that had nothing to do with me. But Oscar was looking forward to being important, I think, so he didn’t like it when I said we would never get anywhere. It seemed as if he did not understand I was serious.”

“Why would he be important if he stayed with you?”

“My grandfather is important. By the time my father succeeds him, I’ll have a significant share of the duties. I’ll be important.”

“I see. Can you give me your mother’s phone number?” asked Philip’s mother.

“I could, but it would be useless. My father walks all over her. I tried, but I don’t think she’ll manage to convince him.”

“We’ll see.”

“It’s still written on the notepad. I copied it from my address book.” She looked too miserable to care. “I forgot to tear off the note.”

“Good. Now why don’t you two go for a walk?”

Philip would much rather be out of the house than hear his mother make the phone call, although he had heard nothing when Isabelle had been on the phone. He stood up.

“But…what will you tell her?” Isabelle looked concerned. “Not that I have to sleep on the floor, or with a boy, or…”

“I’ll see how the conversation turns out. I might not even get through.”

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They walked side by side in silence for a while. When Philip thought he might no longer see many people who knew him, he cleared his throat. “Why didn’t this Oscar want to accept it?”

“His ego? I have no idea.” She was quiet for a few moments. “In terms of age he is the most likely candidate to marry me within the country. In terms of birth there would be one or two more, but they’re too old for me.”

“Do you have to choose from those three or do you have some freedom?” He thought the net was not cast very wide. Whoever cast it – her father? – was not likely to include him in it.

“I think…because I’m not expected to be near the top of the succession line for long, because they assume Frederick will marry, that I’m allowed some freedom. But not enough to marry an illiterate stable boy, of course. If Frederick fails to develop any interest in girls – or just one girl! – my husband needs to be someone who should be able to sustain a somewhat meaningful conversation with important people. And even if Frederick does do his duty I’ll need to do my part.”

“That’s sexist.”

Isabelle turned towards him in surprise. “Why!”

“Because if you’d been a man, all your wife would have needed to do was look pretty.”

“Oh, that’s true,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s all my mother needs to do. And husbands are even less important, because they can be made insiders to a lesser extent.”

“It’s a bizarre way of seeing things.”

“I didn’t say it was my way. A male version of my mother would drive me up the wall.”

“Why, is your mother not nice?”

“My mother is very nice. She is too nice, in fact. But, I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong about her. I thought she thought everyone nice, but she seemed happy I had dumped Oscar, so apparently she didn’t think him all that nice.”

“Is your mother popular?”

“I suppose. She smiles sweetly, she visits sick children in the hospital and she never does anything scandalous.”

“She did not meet your father behind a boatshed,” Philip deduced.

“Oh god, are you serious? Of course not! Did your parents?”

“They met each other at university, so they might have.” Or in a location similar to a boatshed, naturally. He had no idea if there had been any water there.

“And her preoccupation with preventing ‘accidents’ is professional in nature, or did you happen by accident in the back of the lecture hall?”

Philip opened his mouth and closed it.

“Don’t take me literally. I only meant, were you an accident because they weren’t careful? But now I don’t think so, because if you have an accident with an awful fellow student you don’t go on to have three more just for the fun of it.”

“I suppose.”

“They got married because they liked each other and they had three more children because they liked you.”

“I hope. It’s not raining,” he noticed. She could have stayed at the school to paint.

“It was raining earlier,” she pointed out. “It would have been tedious to paint, hide in the shed, paint, hide in the shed, and so forth.”

“True. How much time did you set aside for it?” In other words, when would she return home?

“Oh, until Tuesday or so. There’s a gala dinner I have to attend on Thursday.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what we do. We attend, we smile, we talk a bit. It’s not that difficult.” She paused for a bit. “Of course people write about us, they comment on what we wear, but we don’t have to read that. And of course I wasn’t planning to sneak away from official occasions to roll in the grass with anyone, so nobody could ever have anything to criticise in my behaviour.”

For some reason Philip believed her.

---

When they got back, Philip found his mother calmly reading her book in the sitting room. He did not know if it was his place to ask about it first because it was his mother who had made the call, or Isabelle’s because her mother had been the one called.

“I phoned your mother,” said Philip’s mother, putting her book aside. “It’s all right now.”

Isabelle sat down, looking both perplexed and worried. “It is?”

“I said you and Frederick were here.”

“And she thought that was all right?”

“She might not be telling your father that Philip is working at the school and not one of Frederick’s fellow students. If she doesn’t, it all sounds very innocent.”

“It’s all very innocent in any case,” he protested.

“But you did tell my mother about Philip?” Isabelle clearly did not know if that would be good or bad.

“Yes, I did.”

Isabelle hid her face behind her hands. “And I can stay here now?”

“Of course you can stay here.”

Isabelle had more questions, but she did not ask them. Philip did not ask them either. He was reflecting on the fact that apparently she wanted to stay here. He still did not completely understand why.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” asked his mother.

“Yes, please,” they both said.

Philip turned on the TV. When they had gone home with him he had not counted on having to spend a long afternoon wondering what to do. He watched TV. He did not really know what he was watching, but he could not talk while his mother was still reading.

Ten minutes later, however, a boy came in. “I’m going to get something to drink. All right?”

“All right. No, wait!” said Philip’s mother, getting up. “Don’t just take it out of the fridge.”

“Now what?” asked Philip when his mother had left the room to supervise that the right drinks were drunk first.

“What will my mother be thinking?”

“Knowing my mother she told your mother not to worry because she gave us a box of –“

Isabelle gasped. “Does my mother even know what they are?”

“If she didn’t, she will now.” Antiquated ideas, his mother had said, but not antiquated information. “But anyway, it doesn’t mean they will be used. In fact, this is probably the cleverest way to ensure they won’t get used,” he realised.