Free The Larnachs by Owen Marshall Page A

pleased with the result. The soups and entrées were all good, as was the saddle of mutton and the duck. The turkey was excellent and commented on as such, and we had two puddings as well as jellies and cheese. The wines were champagne, claret, sherry and port. William abstains now, but he provides for others. Although he rather likes his generosity to be noted, it is there, and I benefit from it, even in such difficult times as these. There is no meanness in William. If anything he has indulged his children and certain friends too much, and the comparative stringencies to which he is driven now are a source of embarrassment to him and threaten his self-esteem.
    It is interesting to see William’s attitude to the Cargills, who are a foremost family here. So many similarities in achievement and involvement both bond them and create rivalry. Edward Cargill has been as closely involved as William in the Colonial Bank and the refrigeration company, is a member of the House of Representatives and a community leader. He, too, built a grand mansion in the seventies — Cargill’s Castle, on the cliffs above St Clair. Twenty-one rooms and walls of poured concrete that were a source of amazement to many. The place is famous for its balls and parties, at some of which we have been guests, but I find it colder even than The Camp, and the trees of the drive are permanently sloped because of the wind.
    There was a terrible fire at Cargill’s following the Otago Anniversary Ball of ’92, and although Edward rebuilt, it has not regained its former splendour. He told me that the times were very different and indulgence could not be justified again. Much of considerable beauty was destroyed. William was sympathetic, yet could not repress a sense of smugness that misfortune had passed him by. He called a special gathering of the household staff to warn of the dangers of fire, and laid down that someone be designated last thing at night to check all fireplaces except those of the family bedrooms. Edward has the round, benevolent face of a Mr Cheeryble, but the edge of competition means, I think, that the two families will be public, rather than private, friends. Once, in reference to Cargill, William said with satisfaction that it must be a disappointment to such a successful man to have only daughters. Such a thought would never have occurred to my father.
    Marriage to William has disclosed no particularly unpleasant side to his nature, but I admit to some disappointment in the relationship we have in private. His physical expectations I permit rather than enjoy; more disappointing for me has been our failure to fully share an inner life. The fault may be mine also, but apart from the brief entreaties and exclamations of the marriage bed, William talks to me when we are alone much as he does when we are in familiar company. His innermost feelings and aspirations are closed to me, and he shows impatience if I attempt to draw him out. Neither has he much interest now in my own confidences and he seldom asks about my happiness, or the reasons for any despondency, or gaiety, that might mark my mood. He talks ofexternal things with confidence and at length, but is apprehensive of sustained revelation of deep, personal feeling. Annie, Bessie and Ethel are all greater confidantes than my husband. I may well be no different in all of this than most wives, but I had hoped for a soulmate.
    In many ways Dougie is more aware and companionable than his father. Although he has had no musical training and is no great reader, we have become quite pals. He is the only one of William’s adult children, apart from poor Kate, who has been prepared to accept me for myself and not as a supplanter of a mother’s memory, or a threat to expectations. Thrown together here at The Camp, we have found a growing understanding. It is our joke that he is Outside Dougie and I am Inside Conny, for he likes nothing more than to be on horseback, or fishing, or working on