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The legal community in The Hague, like that in London, was close-knit, sometimes almost incestuously so. He doubted it would be very long before Piet knew all about Sondra Cabot.
And thereby guessed what had brought him here to his door tonight?
A man couldn’t be convicted for being tempted, Marcus told himself wryly, as Piet led the way to his study.
He had first met Piet when they had both been studying law, and he had attended a course in The Hague. It had been this which had first given him a taste for international law and he and Piet had remained friends over the years.
Piet and Elise had been guests at his marriage to Eleanor. Piet was also Vanessa’s godfather, although he and Julia had never liked one another. In contrast, Eleanor and Elise had got on very well together, although on the surface they did not have much in common, since Elise did not work, devoting herself full-time to then-four children and the various charity committees on which she worked.
In Piet’s study, the desk was littered with papers, a large bulky file open.
‘A very complex and tragic case,’ Piet announced as he saw Marcus glance at his desk. ‘I am to defend a man accused of murdering his twin granddaughters. Yes, it’s very shocking,’ Piet agreed when Marcus made a small sound of distaste. ‘Elise did not want me to take the case.’
‘He’ll be convicted?’
‘Oh, yes, without doubt. Naturally we had initially intended to plead diminished responsibility, but the psychiatrist’s reports and the man’s own statements…’ He shrugged.
‘They have him under heavy guard. He has already tried twice to take his own life, and I am not sure whether it would simply be kinder to allow him… However, that is a very dangerous line of thought for men such as us. We are here simply to plead the fact of the case as best we can, and to thank God that this primitive male jealousy which can so often be the curse of our sex does not affect us.
‘The true tragedy of the case is that he actually loved his granddaughters, loved them but believed that his wife loved them more than she did him. A familiar story…’ He glanced at Marcus. ‘We have all heard it before.’
‘Yes,’ Marcus agreed heavily, frowning to himself. Piet was right; male jealousy could be a destructive, dangerous thing. How many men had he heard say that they had killed their wives, their lovers rather than lose them? How many men had he heard speak enviously and resentfully of women’s relationships, friendships, closeness to their friends and family, feeling that that closeness excluded them and threatened their relationship?
As he himself had felt about his mother’s relationship with his grandmother? And Eleanor’s desire to draw Vanessa closer to her?
‘And you,’ Piet was saying. ‘What brings you to The Hague?’
‘Oh, the usual thing,’ Marcus told him absently. ‘One of my clients has a case before the International Court-just a preliminary hearing this time—a formality really.’
‘And Vanessa, my goddaughter. How is she?’
Marcus gave him a wry look.
‘Ah, like that, is it?’ Piet commiserated. ‘These teenagers; they suffer so, poor things, and us with them. Our eldest is fourteen now; his voice has not yet quite broken but he insists that he is a man; an adult. One minute he is telling me I have no right to interfere in his life, the next he is running to his mother, hiding behind her skirts.
‘She is too soft with him.’ He shook his head and then paused. ‘There, you see, it is just as I was telling you before. Elise accuses me of being jealous of him and, although I do not admit it to her, sometimes I think there is perhaps a grain of truth in what she says, although it is not so much him I resent but all that he represents. And he seems to sense it and play on it. I tell you, Marcus, sometimes he would try the patience of a saint, but then, when I swear I could quite easily murder him, I look at him and remember that he is my son, my child, and I feel myself melt with love for him.
‘It will be hard
er for you, of course, and for Eleanor; to be the mother of a teenage stepdaughter is not an enviable task.’
‘I’ve tried to tell Eleanor that, but she takes it all so personally… blames me, I think sometimes… believes that I’m encouraging Vanessa in her antagonism towards her. Nell has this idiotic idea that by moving to a huge barn of a house in the middle of the country she will somehow be able to weld us all into one big, happy family…’
‘And you don’t agree?’
‘Not really. The house is isolated, in need of a complete renovation and redecoration. None of the children is used to living in the country. Eleanor herself… She thinks I’m deliberately being awkward. She can’t see that all I want to do is to protect her from being hurt…’
He saw the look Piet was giving him and grimaced. ‘All right, so I’m not particularly keen on the move myself, but I honestly don’t think it would be right for any of us, including Nell; but she can’t see that. She thinks…’
He broke off and gave a small, exasperated sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Piet. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my problems.’
Piet spread his hands in a gesture of acceptance.
‘What else are friends for? I think, my friend, that there is far more here than just a move of house. You say that Vanessa and Eleanor do not get on. Could that not make Eleanor feel vulnerable, and Vanessa as well…? They are, after all, two women loving one man, hmm…?’
‘Vanessa, vulnerable!’ Marcus shook his head. ‘If you could see her… hear her. Sometimes I wish…’ He paused, not wanting to admit even to one of his oldest and closest of friends how resentful he sometimes felt about the strain Vanessa’s presence placed on his marriage.
Resentful of whom? Vanessa for being there? Or Eleanor for not being able to find a way of dealing with her? Or was his resentment fuelled by both of them; by their femaleness… their difference… and his inability to find a logical male answer to the emotional trauma of their relationship?
