A Great Deliverance

“Their relationship was one of those quirks of fate in which two men find themselves locked together in a number of ways which are generally better not discussed between them.”

The relationship between Hillier and Webberly demonstrates the complexities of social class in Britain at this time. Though they are nominally from the same class background, they have different levels of success. Hillier is upwardly mobile, to the point that he has been knighted, whereas Webberly seems stuck in a rut, much to his wife’s annoyance. The competitive, tricky nature of social class is shown through the theme of The Dangers of Class Bias in Great Britain that the novel explores.

“At thirty years old, Barbara Havers was a decidedly unattractive woman, but a woman who appeared to be doing everything possible to make herself so.”

Havers lives in a patriarchal society, where women are judged on their looks in a way that men are not. Rather than cede to these gender expectations, however, she actively rejects them. She has internalized the misogynistic expectation that women’s worth should be linked to their appearance and has decided to increase her unattractiveness as a political statement. This exemplifies the theme of How Patriarchy Enables Predatory Behavior Among Men in the novel.

“He wondered, not for the first time, if this partnership of two such antipodal personalities had even the ghost of a chance for success.”

Though Webberly’s wife is obsessed with the competitive nature of social class in Britain, Webberly himself is actively interested in bridging class divides. He deliberately arranges for a partnership between Havers and Lynley because they represent different social classes. Webberly’s subtle egalitarianism—and the implied rejection of the importance of social class—may suggest why he struggles to please his wife, since he has no real interest in engaging with a system that he believes should be dismantled.

“She looked up quickly and caught the guard dropping over Mr. Patel’s darkface like a mask when he saw her expression.”

In 1980s Britain, racially homogenous communities are a class signifier. Lynley lives apart in the wealthy, white Belgravia, while Havers lives in the multicultural, working-class Acton. While Havers herself is not prejudiced against nonwhite people, the novel suggests that the presence of nonwhite peoples in British communities is symbolic of the changing face of British society.

“Hey, girl, Jim was watching that!”

Havers’s father, Jim, refers to himself in the third person. Early in the novel, this is presented as a character quirk. As the profound nature of the family’s grief becomes clearer, however, the quirk reads more like a process of dissociation. Like his wife, he is struggling to deal with the death of his son, Tony. Rather than face reality, he and his wife have retreated into an alternative reality, one defined by fictional holidays and self-destructive behavior. Jim, by referring to himself in the third person, disassociates himself from the individual he once was, from the individual who still feels grief and pain.

“Blessed Helen. God, what a wonderful anchor she’d been in his life this past year!”

Lynley is self-centered, ignoring the feelings of those around him. He is in love with Deborah, an unrequited love that motivates his womanizing and his aloofness. Though he can feel the pain of this unrequited love, he refuses to acknowledge that Helen is just as much in love with him as he is with Deborah. Instead, he consoles himself with the assurance that she is his “wonderful anchor” (68) rather than his spurned admirer of whom he takes advantage.

“He waved a fork at the other two.”

Hank plays a small but significant role in the narrative. As an American, he exists outside the expectations surrounding class and etiquette that preoccupy the British characters. His indifference to social class and manners—such as pointing with his fork—is shocking and thrilling to the people who have spent their lives adhering to very strict social guidelines. As such, Hank’s behavior helps to elucidate the boundaries of class and the ways in which they constrain the British characters.

“He was…is William Teys’ nephew. He lives in the council cottages on St. Chad’s Lane. It’s just off the high street.”

The characters’ living arrangements serve as a map of social class. Richard Gibson lives in the council cottages, suggesting that he is poor enough to need social housing. Council houses were a controversial topic during the Thatcher years, due to the government’s use of social housing as a failed attempt to encourage social mobility.

“Tessa’s! was scrawled childishly across the flyleaf. This same declaration was in Dickens and Shakespeare, two Norton anthologies, and all the Brontes.”

Like Gillian, Tessa sought to escape the trauma and abuse of her immediate life by escaping into literature. In this respect, her desire to write her name in every book is less a declaration of ownership than a fleeting attempt to literally insert herself into a different reality. She wishes that she could become someone else, like a character in one of her beloved books, so she writes her name alongside the characters in the hope of manifesting a new reality.

“Has anyone told you about Ezra?”

Nigel Parish is not interested in whether the police solve the murder of William Teys. Instead, he views the arrival of Havers and Lynley as an opportunity to further his own agendas. Somewhat uniquely among the local people, he seeks out the investigators to tell them about his views on all the locals and to explain why their various flaws might make them worthy of the police’s attention. He views the police as a vehicle to rectify his own feuds, rather than bring about justice.

“It’s penance, Stepha, an expiation for sins committed that you couldn’t understand.”

The juxtaposition between Lynley’s inner thoughts and his stated words reveal the extent to which his public persona is a performance. He tells Stepha that he does not really know why he is a police officer; he hides the true nature of his motivation, not wanting to discuss his sins or his desire to atone. This speaks to the theme of The Corrosive Nature of Guilt. Lynley believes that other people cannot or will not understand the depths of his pain, so he masks his emotions to the world by playing a version of himself. This public persona deflects from his raw, vulnerable emotions as a defense mechanism.

“I wasn’t even certain how babies got themselves born when I married William.”

Tessa’s throwaway remark reveals an important subtext: that the much older William sought out a wife who was barely mature enough to know what marriage meant. Sex was a mystery to Tessa, which is exactly what made her so attractive to William. Her youthfulness and immaturity allowed him to indulge his pedophilic lust in a manner that was technically legal. That no one in the village questioned this is a dark foreshadowing of why William was able to hide in plain sight.

“How do we know William set up the shrine?”

A key irony in the detective mystery is that the detectives do not actually solve the murder. Instead, they piece together the truth that allows them to vindicate Roberta. They are so willing to believe that anyone else killed William that they invent elaborate explanations for truths that seem self-evident, rather than delve deeper into the dark reality of abuse in the household.

“For Nigel Parrish and another man were having a violent quarrel upon the bridge, directly in the path of the car.”

Havers and Lynley find that their return into the village is disrupted by a public spat between two locals. The moment is rife with symbolism, showing how the petty disputes and disagreements between villagers such as Nigel Parish are barring the inspectors’ progress. They cannot advance until the locals find a way to put aside such quarrels in the name of truth and justice.

“She jerked open the door and glared at him furiously. He was dressed to the absolute teeth.”

In addition to the wealth, security, and status that Havers believes Lynley receives from his social class, most of all, she envies is his comfort. This highlights the theme of The Dangers of Class Bias in Great Britain. His experience, his privilege, and his money seemingly prepare him for any situation, while Havers frets over every tiny detail, including what she will wear to dinner. In this respect, Lynley’s aloof public persona works against him; Havers does not know how much of his behavior is an act.

“He longed to arouse her to wakefulness, his mouth and tongue feeling the subtle, familiar changes in her body that betrayed her desire.”

Havers may resent Lynley’s performance of confidence and nonchalance, but she does not know the truth. He hides his unrequited love—and the pain it causes him—from the rest of the world. Each time he wakes, however, his subconsciousness seeps into his waking life and he cannot deny the pain. This only reaffirms his belief that he must hide his vulnerability from the world.

“I think he must have felt terribly guilty about having ignored Roberta, because he drove to Richmond directly and bought three or four different kinds of lotion to put on her skin.”

People misinterpret William’s actions as concern instead of evidence of his monstrous behavior. While his guilt is a preoccupation, it is due to his self-loathing rather than his love for his daughter. This highlights the novel’s theme of How Patriarchy Enables Predatory Behavior Among Men, as Roberta has no means of changing people’s impression of William as a responsible, if distant, father.

“Footman, servant, butler, valet?”

Deborah’s comment to the Americans may also be the clearest example of social mobility in the novel. Her father was a working-class servant, yet she married Simon and entered into a higher social class. At the same time, Deborah also hints at why Lynley could not continue his relationship with her. He felt too indebted to his status and title to marry the daughter of a servant. Now, he regrets his decision, especially after seeing how much Simon did not care about such class-based trivialities. This speaks to The Dangers of Class Bias in Great Britain.

“This was his. Daze is my mother.”

In one moment, Lynley is able to show Havers how her presumptions about his wealth and status are wrong. Rather than the token of a romantic fling, his cigarette case is a reminder of his late mother. While this is embarrassing for Havers, it also gestures toward the process of getting to know each other that has been happening throughout their investigation. Breaking through assumptions and stereotypes is painful, but it leads both detectives to appreciate and be more honest with each other.

“He saw that Farmington was at best his own mirror image, his second self, the man, indeed, he could choose to become.”

Lynley does not particularly like Ezra, whom he finds to be petty and pathetic. Yet the sight of Ezra’s romantic obsession with Stepha is a clarifying moment for Lynley. In Ezra’s pathetic behavior, he sees his own future. He sees what he will become if he allows himself to obsess over his unrequited love for Deborah. While Lynley does not like Ezra, he comes to pity him and, in doing so, is able to reach a decision with regards to his own failed romance.

“I thought I could do something right. This time. I’ve destroyed the case, haven’t I?”

Havers decided that she needed to be tough with Gillian to bring about a resolution in the case. When this backfires, Havers blames herself and her judgement. This highlights the theme of The Corrosive Nature of Guilt. She fears that she has squandered her chance to return to CID, rather than being kept out due to social prejudices about her class or gender.

“She desperately wanted to avoid giving him an opportunity to do so. It was craven. She despised herself for it.”

In one of the narration’s rare switches to Helen’s perspective, the audience gains sympathy for her by seeing how much she loathes herself for being unable to deny her love for Lynley. This is a degree of self-awareness that Lynley is only just starting to obtain, even as he comes to see himself and Helen as pathetic in the same tragic way.

“Did he make you have the naked parade, Gilly?”

Roberta’s first spoken words in the novel cut straight to the heart of her abuse. Confronted with her older sister’s honest description of her own abuse, Roberta finally feels that she can speak openly about what she endured. Yet her words are still cloaked in the same terms that her father used to abuse her. She cannot use mature, adult words like “rape” or “abuse.” Tragically, Gillian knows what she means.