William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

practice it, as a woman. She fooled everyone, except Isaac Wolff, who loved her.”
    “How terrible!” Her face was filled with amazement and anguish.
    For a moment he did not understand. Surely Hester, of all people, could not be so quick to judge automatically and cruelly. His sense of disillusion was so sharp for an instant hecould think of nothing else. It was not the Hester he knew, who was so close that her loyalty and her compassion were part of the framework of his world.
    Hester was not even looking at him. “It must have been there every day,” she said softly. “Pulling at her both ways, until it tore her apart. She was a woman, she loved Isaac Wolff, but she could never marry him. Even by being with him she risked branding him as a criminal.” She focused her gaze, meeting Monk’s eyes demandingly. “Can you imagine it? Can you imagine the scenes between them? She must have been terrified for him, not knowing which way to turn. And he would have loved her enough to take love, take time together, the sharing of dreams, great things, aspirations and the wonder of thought and idea and passion.” She winced as she said it, her eyes bright. “And little things that hurt, the small disappointments.” Her voice cracked. “The sudden ache for no reason, the tiredness, the confusion, just the need not to be alone … and the jokes, the silly things that make you laugh, something beautiful, a splash of sunlight, a particular flower, a kind act, the ironies and the absurdities, the little victories which can mean so much.”
    Her voice shook. She took a long, slow breath. Her lips trembled. “And she couldn’t! Every time she was with him put them both in danger from prying eyes, people with cruel and inquisitive minds. No wonder she sought friendship with Zillah Lambert. It was at least a moment of sharing something, to see pretty things, a woman’s things, perfume, silks, gowns, all the things she couldn’t afford ever to have herself. Imagine what she risked if she had ever, even once, worn a dress!”
    He started to speak and then stopped.
    “Why do we do that?” Suddenly she was savage, her voice thick with emotion. She stared at him as if demanding an answer. “Why do we make rules about what a person should be … I mean rules that don’t matter?
Why
shouldn’t a woman be an architect, or a doctor, or anything else? What are we so frightened of?” She lashed out with her arm. “And why do we make men pretend they aren’t afraid or don’t make mistakes, like women and children? Of course they do. We all know theydo, we just cover it up or look the other way. It’s much easier to admit you were wrong, and go back and do the right thing, than it is to go on adding evasion to evasion, one invention after another to conceal the last, and then you probably aren’t fooling anybody, except those who want to be fooled.”
    He did not interrupt, knowing she needed to say it all. Anyway, he agreed with her.
    She scowled at him. “Look at Gabriel and Perdita.” She clenched her hands. “He’s been taught to be brave, never to explain, never to ask for help. He’s been given a hero’s image to live up to, and he’s riddled with guilt because he thinks he can’t. And she’s been taught to be helpless and stupid because that’s what men want, and all she should do is be a sweet-natured, obedient ornament.” Her face was puckered, all her muscles tight. “And she has to sit by and watch him hurt, because he thinks he should be looking after her, and he can’t even look after himself.”
    She drew breath. “And that idiot Athol Sheldon bumbles around telling them it would all be all right if they just behaved normally and forgot the grief and pain and the horror as if it never happened and all those people never died. It’s a mockery of the reality of life. It makes me so angry I could …”
    She was at a loss for words. He could not remember ever seeing that before. He wanted to say something to show he understood and felt the same anger and loss.
    He also thought, against his will and with a curious, sharp hunger, of all the things she had said about joy and not being alone, of having the opportunity to share with someone the bonds of honesty and familiarity which are the deepest of all friendships, the losing of the barriers of fear, which divide.
    He reached forward and took her hands and held them in his, quite gently, feeling after a moment her fingers respond. It was not