Klara and the Sun

‘Klara, I know we said a lot of things earlier. In the car, I mean. But you have to understand, I was thinking about three, four things at once. All I’m saying is don’t take too seriously anything we said. You understand, right?’

‘You mean, when we were in the car alone? When we were parked near the bridge?’

‘Yes, that’s what I mean. I’m not saying we’re going back on anything. But I’m just saying so you know, okay? Oh, this whole thing’s getting so confusing. And Paul doesn’t help. Look at him. What’s he telling her now?’

Not far from us, the Father was leaning forward so that his face was close to Josie’s, saying something earnestly.

‘He’s so full of shit these days,’ the Mother said, and began to go to them. But before she could do so, an arm came out of the crowd and grasped her wrist.

‘Chrissie,’ Miss Helen’s voice said, ‘leave them alone for another minute. They don’t get to be together much these days.’

‘Paul’s distributed his brand of wisdom quite enough for one day, it seems to me,’ the Mother said. ‘And now look. They’re quarreling.’

‘They’re not quarreling, Chrissie. I assure you they’re not. So let them talk to each other.’

‘Helen, I really don’t need you to interpret for me. I can still read my own daughter and husband.’

‘Ex-husband, Chrissie. And exes are unfathomable, as I’m having underlined this very moment. Vance swore he’d not keep us waiting, and now look. We weren’t married, as you and Paul were, so the bitter aftertaste has a different flavor. But don’t underestimate it, Chrissie. I haven’t seen him in fourteen years, and then only fleetingly quite by chance. Is it possible we passed each other in this crowd and didn’t recognize one another?’

‘Do you regret it, Helen?’ the Mother asked suddenly. ‘You know what I mean. Do you regret it? Not going ahead with Rick?’

For a moment Miss Helen kept looking towards where the Father and Josie were talking to one another. Then she said: ‘Yes. If I’m honest, Chrissie, the answer’s yes. Even after seeing what it’s brought you. I feel…I feel I didn’t do my best for him. I feel I didn’t even think it through, the way you and Paul did. I was somewhere else in my mind and I just let the moment go past. Perhaps that’s what I regret more than anything else. That I never loved him enough to make a proper decision one way or the other.’

‘It’s okay.’ The Mother placed a gentle hand on Miss Helen’s upper arm. ‘It’s okay. It’s difficult, I know that.’

‘But I’m doing my best now. I’m doing my best for him this time round. I just need Former Lover to turn up. Oh! That’s him there. Vance! Vance! Excuse me…’

‘Would you care to sign our petition?’ The man who had appeared in front of the Mother had a white-painted face and black hair. The Mother took a quick step back, as if the white-face material would come off on her, and said: ‘What’s it about?’

‘We’re protesting the proposal to clear the Oxford Building. There’s currently four hundred and twenty-three post-employed people living inside it, eighty-six of them children. Neither Lexdell nor the city have offered any reasonable plan regarding their relocation.’

I didn’t hear any more of what the black-and-white man was saying to the Mother because the Father moved in front of me and said to her:

‘Jesus, Chrissie, what have you been saying to our daughter?’ He was keeping his voice down, but he sounded annoyed. ‘She’s acting really strange. Did you by any chance tell her?’

‘I didn’t, Paul, no.’ The Mother’s voice was uncharacteristically uncertain. ‘At least, not about…all of that.’

‘So what exactly did you…’

‘We just talked about the portrait, that was all. We can’t keep everything hidden from her. She suspects so many things, and if we don’t speak to her about any of it, we’ll lose her trust.’

‘You told her about the portrait?’

‘I only told her it wasn’t a painting. That it was a kind of sculpture. She remembers Sal’s doll, of course…’

‘Jesus Christ, I thought we agreed…’

‘Josie isn’t a small child, Paul. She can figure things out. And she’s right to expect us to talk to her honestly…’

‘Rick!’ I recognized Miss Helen’s voice behind me. ‘Rick! Come on! Vance is here, I’ve found him. Come and say hello. Oh, Chrissie, I want you to meet Vance. A dear old friend. Here he is.’

Mr Vance was wearing a high-rank suit with a buttoned-up white shirt and blue tie. He was as bald as Mr Capaldi and less in height than Miss Helen. He was looking all around himself as though puzzled.

‘Hello, nice to meet you,’ he said to the Mother. Then to Miss Helen: ‘So what’s happening here? Is everyone going to this show?’

‘Rick and I were waiting here for you, Vance. Exactly as you told us to. How wonderful to see you again! You’ve hardly changed.’

‘You’re looking very good too, Helen. But what’s going on here? Where’s your son?’

‘Ricky! Over here!’