He stopped again and wondered if he ought now to wait till five 0 clock. But upset and even angered by the meeting with Randall, he felt that he could not put up with the triviality of hanging around for another five minutes. He drew a breath, long enough to apprehend that he was about to step from one world into another, and that he had no conception at all what the new world would contain. He passed through the green door, which had been left ajar, went straight ahead into the drawing-room and found himself in Emma's presence.
Chapter Twelve
EMMA sat in an armchair facing the door. She was hunched up and looked small and round, almost humped. She was wearing a voluminous dark green dress which seemed to reach the ground, and a long slim cane was leaning against her knees. She was watching the door intently as he entered. She was smaller than he remembered. Hugh looked down at her in silence. The sense of being at last in her presence the occurrence of something impossible, something contradictory, constituted a mystery so breath-taking that it forbade speech and almost with its intensity made him solitary again. Paralysed, he stared.
His imaginings beforehand of what this moment would be like had been hazy, yet they had seemed sufficiently lurid. He had pictured himself swept by irresistible emotion into her Anns. He had imagined loss of consciousness. He had imagined tears and nervous laughter and every form of grotesque embarrassment. But this terrible silent confrontation had a quality of the real which stripped him. It was not Emma related to him but Emma existing which was the shock which so almost threw him back into a greater solitude. It was more like the mapping of a cord than like a reunion.
After a moment or two Emma uttered a sound which might have been 'Hugh', or perhaps it was 'you' or perhaps it was just a sigh. Hugh sat down. She was very much older. He had not, in the apparitions he had had of her, seen her ageing.
Emma drew herself back as if uncurling a little. Then she said in a low voice, as if not to break a spell which kept him from being wafted back out of the door again, 'Is your curiosity fed?
'Not — curiosity — Emma, said Hugh. He now with relief felt the rush of warm emotion, the reassuring desire to kneel, the possibility of trembling.
Emma was silent, scrutinizing him. She was neither smiling nor embarrassed nor solemn. She seemed distracted and morose. Then she said something.
'You'll have to speak up, I'm afraid, said Hugh. 'I've become very deaf'
'So have I, said Emma. 'I said you looked just the same, but of course you don't. It's just that I've got used to your face already.
'I hope it doesn't upset you, my coming like this.
, I don't see why it should upset me, said Emma slowly and irritably. 'I could have said no. But I suppose I was curious too. She added, 'It was a long time ago. Too long.
'Too long for what?
She just repeated 'Too long. Too long. Then, 'Would you like some tea?
'Yes, if it's no trouble.
'It is a trouble, said Emma, 'and anyway I think I'd rather have a drink. Could you get the gin and stuff out of that cupboard?
Hugh got up. It was odd to be moving about in this room. It was like moving about in a picture or beyond a looking glass and his body felt heavy with fatality. He looked around him at Emma's things. Generations of window-curtains must have come and gone since he was last here and he was vaguely aware of some notable improvements in Emma's taste; yet he thought he recognized a few objects, and he could scarcely believe that he was not visiting the past. He set the bottles and two glasses on the little table in front of her, beside her spectacles and an immense ash-tray and a blue packet of Gauloises; and as he came near to her he had an eerie apprehension of her whole body as older. It was as if her body and his sniffed each other like two old dogs while their owners looked on. Her hand rested on the Ann of the chair like a wary lizard. The dry wrinkled skin, dark brown with nicotine, had fallen between the bones. He had the impression that she was holding her breath.
'It's odd, said Emma, when he had moved away from her. 'I always thought I should faint if I were ever face to face with you again, but I seem not to have. I feel quite ordinary. It's just that we can't talk to each other. It's a meeting in Hades.
Hugh felt a humble gratitude to her for having at least expected to be moved. He said in a gentle voice, 'We'll soon be able to talk. Just keep going.
Her face had sharpened with the years. It was more fierce and hungry then he remembered it, and the red-rimmed eyes showed luminous yet darker. Her hair seemed to have dried and stiffened into an iron-grey frizz. But already he was forgetting what she had looked like before, and the pale ghosts of familiar images fled like leaves before the wind.
'I'm not sure that I shall let you stay as long as that, said Emma.
'I'm not sure that I want to talk to you. My curiosity is almost satisfied now. I don't want to discuss the past. I wonder why you came? Hugh paused. He could not find the right Word. 'Need, he said. 'What? Do speak up.
'Need.
'Rubbish, said Emma. She sipped her drink and made a wry face. 'Why did you come to Fanny's funeral? said Hugh.
'A final act of brutality.
'Rubbish. Emma smiled briefly. She said, 'Can't you see I'm an old dry object like a stuffed alligator? A voice comes out, hut the thing is hollow really. It's no good looking for a soul inside me now.
Hugh was more pleased than otherwise at her expression of melancholy. He realized that he had dreaded to find her satisfied, to find her with some rounded perfection of her own, to find her contented. He said, 'Come, come, don't be so gloomy! There's plenty to do yet.
'You were ways a sort of ninny, Hugh' said Emma. I see you are as silly as ever. You still have no sense of humour. It's one of your charms, a sort of imitation innocence. Now tell me why you came.
'I told you. I couldn't stop thinking about you and it was necessary to see you.
'Well, you've seen me.
'I hope you will— permit this to be — the beginning of a friendship, said Hugh. He had said these words to himself before; now they sounded abstract and out of place.
'A friendship? said Emma. She seemed to hold the word up between her finger and thumb. Then she said morosely, 'You don't know what you're talking to. Then, 'You must have run into Randall and Lindsay just outside.
'Yes, said Hugh. He had completely forgotten about his son and was not pleased to be reminded. 'Yes. The girl is your secretary, Lindsay Rimmer?
'Yes. That's her. And that. Emma pointed to two photographs propped up on her desk. 'Isn't she perfectly gorgeous?
Hugh recognized the thick plaits of hair, the wide-set eyes, and the amused expression which now struck him as a sort of complacent insolence. 'Mmm. Do you see much of Randall? 'He practically lives here. Because of darling Lindsay of course. But you knew?
'No, said Hugh. He was surprised and annoyed and chilled as if the temperature of the room were sinking steadily. 'Why ever should I know?
'I can think of a reason or two, said Emma. 'Anyway, you must be the last person to hear. Yes, they're quite devoted. She said it with a sort of icy brutality, watching Hugh as if for signs of pain.