Philip was immensely charismatic, funny and charming, and Kate found herself wishing she had had the chance to meet him. She could see why her mother had become so fond of him over the years.
After trawling through Philip’s childhood and hell-raising early adulthood, the conversation became more serious as he talked about his difficult marriage to Helen Kilgannon, Will’s mother. He spoke movingly of his ultimately futile attempts to cope with her manic depression. He was ruthlessly self-critical, not sparing himself as he explored his ineptitude in dealing with his wife’s disintegration, his shortcomings as a husband and father, and his ultimate failure as both with the breakdown of his marriage and the abandonment of his child.
‘Looking back,’ Philip said, ‘I can’t believe how crass I was. I mean, I was a grown man – pretty resilient, I liked to think – andIcouldn’t cope with Helen’s illness.Icouldn’t live in that house any longer. I had to leave to save my sanity. So I walked out and left my teenage son to deal with it alone. He was only a boy.’
The camera lingered mercilessly on his face, registering every flicker of emotion. The sadness and regret in his eyes made him seem older.
‘So you feel you were wrong to leave when you did?’ Richard’s hushed voice came from off-camera.
‘Yes, absolutely,’ Philip said matter-of-factly.
‘How did you feel about it at the time?’
‘Well, guilty, of course – but not enough to stop me doing exactly what I wanted.’ He smiled self-mockingly. ‘I thought I had a right to be happy.’
‘And didn’t you?’
‘Not at my son’s expense,’ he said shortly. ‘But I come from a generation that scoffed at the notion of staying together for the sake of the children, or working at marriage – the whole idea of self-sacrifice. We believed that personal happiness was paramount.’
‘You don’t believe that any more?’
‘Well, it’s utter nonsense, isn’t it? It’s what you tell yourselfbecause you don’t want to admit the truth – that you’re too lazy or selfish to do anything remotely difficult or unpleasant. We’re led to believe that life should tickleall the time. When it doesn’t tickle any more, you simply move on. It’s an infantile view of the world.’
‘Getting back to your first son, what’s your relationship like with him now?’ Richard probed gently.
‘Non-existent,’ Philip said laconically. ‘He doesn’t speak to me – won’t have anything to do with me. I don’t blame him.’
‘What caused the breakdown in that relationship?’
‘When Helen died, he blamed me.’ Philip paused. ‘And then, instead of helping him deal with it, I packed him off to boarding school. In that awful American phrase,’ he smiled witheringly, ‘I wasn’t there for him when his mother died.’
There was a long pause.
‘It wasn’t entirely selfish,’ Philip said eventually. ‘I thought it would be good for him – toughen him up. I was afraid he’d turn out like his mother – too sensitive for the world. But I underestimated him. He was well able to take care of himself – stand up to me. I think he takes after me more than his mother.’
‘Have you tried to reconcile with him?’
‘Yes, of course – I’m trying all the time. But, as I say, he’s like me – stubborn, implacable and convinced he’s right, which, of course, in this case he is.’
‘So he’s right not to forgive you?’
‘Yes,’ Philip said, only the tensing of his jaw betraying any emotion.
‘Why?’
‘Because it was unforgivable,’ Philip said, with devastating simplicity, looking his questioner square in the eyes.
The camera lingered relentlessly on Philip’s face in the silence that followed. He blinked rapidly, starting to chew his lipas the silence stretched painfully. He was so exposed, so defenseless, it was almost unbearable to watch.
‘You really believe that?’
‘Yes, I do. I think he’s right not to forgive me. I respect him for it.’
‘You respect him for being implacable… resentful?’
‘I respect him for knowing what’s right and not accepting anything less – for having the courage of his convictions.’
‘Even if it means that he’s cut you out of his life?’ Richard probed.
