Think of me tonight, Mr. Rex Gold, and say “that might have been me.”‘
“No doubt I shall,” Gold returned, his loose lips closing wetly over his cigar. “I shall certainly think of you both. In fact, I’m not going to forget either of you. If Carol is unhappy because of you, you will be sorry. I promise you that, Mr. Thurston.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LOOKING back now as I hammer out this story in a sordid little bedroom with pieces of wallpaper peeling from its damp walls and dust upon the table on which only a typewriter stands, I realize that the first four days of my marriage with Carol were the high lights in my life. In her I found a companion who gave me confidence and spiritual peace; who amused me and who seemed to satisfy me physically as well as mentally.
We would get up about ten o’clock and have breakfast on the verandah with the valley spread out below us like a magnificent natural carpet. Away to the right, we could see the still waters of Big Bear Lake reflecting the fir trees and the lazy white clouds that drifted like balls of whipped cream in the brilliant sky. After breakfast we would put on shins and slacks and take the car to the lake where Carol would swim in a simple white swimsuit while I lounged in the boat, a rod in my hand, watching her. When the sun got hot I would go in after her and we would wrestle in the water, swim races and behave like a couple of kids on their first vacation. Then we’d go back for lunch which Russell would bring to us on the verandah and we’d talk and look at the view and talk some more. Then we’d go for a long walk in the woods, the pine needles making a carpet for us to walk on and the sunlight coming through the heavy foliage overhead making patterns on the ground. In the evening we would listen to the gramophone. It was grand to have Carol alone, lying on the big settee which we had dragged out onto the verandah, the moon shining down on us and the stars like diamond dust and the sound of music coming from the sitting room.
I told Carol much of my past life. I did not mention John Coulson nor did I speak of Eve, but I told her about the apartment house in Long Beach and how I had always wanted to write and my early struggles as a shipping clerk. I had to tell her a few lies to make the story stand up, but as I had now completely accepted Coulson’s play as my own I had no difficulty not only convincing Carol how I had written Rain Check but also myself.
In our big, airy bedroom with the windows wide open and the curtains pulled back and the moonlight making a bright patch of light on the white carpet, I would lie in bed with Carol in my arms. She slept with her head on my shoulder and one arm thrown across my chest. She always slept peacefully, scarecely moving until the sunlight woke her. Holding her in my arms, listening to her light breathing and thinking of the things we had done together during the day gave me many hours of satisfied contentment.
And yet, in spite of this contentment and happiness, I was aware that I was not entirely fulfilled. In some deep recess of my subconscious mind every now and then something stirred. I experienced from time to time a feeling of physical dissatisfaction. At first it was vague and undefined; then later this feeling became stronger and I knew that the physical impact that Eve had had upon my senses had left an indelible mark.
As long as Carol kept close by me, this hankering for Eve did not cause me any misgivings. Carol’s personality and kindness and affection was strong enough to override Eve’s remote influence, but if Carol went into the garden and left me alone, I found myself struggling against the temptation to call Eve on the telephone and to hear once again the sound of her voice.
You may find it difficult to understand why I could not completely dismiss Eve from my mind. I have already said that most men lead two lives — a normal life and a secret life. It followed then that most men have two mentalities. If the truth must be told, I began to realize that although Carol meant so much to me she was only able to satisfy part of my mental life. Eve’s corrupting influence was necessary before I was completely fulfilled.
You must not think that I weakly accepted this situation without a struggle. During those four days and nights I did succeed in putting Eve out of my mind, but I knew that I was waging a losing battle. My sublime happiness with Carol was not to last. I suppose it was too much to expect considering that I was never able to withstand temptation for long. The change came abruptly and without warning on the night of our fourth day together.
The night was perfect. A big, glittering moon hung above the hills, casting black sharp etched shadows and lighting the lake, making it look like a burnished mirror. It had been hot all day and even on the verandah, it was still too hot to think of going to bed.
Carol had suggested a midnight swim and we took the car to the lake. We stayed in the warm water for over an hour and by the time we returned to Three Point it was after one o’clock. We were undressing in the bedroom when the telephone began to ring. We both paused and looked at each other in surprise. The bell sounded shrill and impatient in the silence of the night and I had a sudden feeling of suffocating excitement.
“Who can it be at this time?” Carol asked. I can see her now. She had just taken off her white and red sports frock and was sitting on the edge of the bed in her brassiere and shorts, looking lovely, her skin tanned a golden brown and her eyes bright.
“It’s bound to be a wrong number,” I said, slipping into my dressing gown. “No one knows we are here.”
She smiled at me and went on undressing while I hurried into the lounge and picked UP the receiver.
“Hello?”I said. “Who is it?”
“Hello, you stinker,” Eve said.
I gripped the telephone, aware of a sudden stifled feeling and a thickness in my throat. “Why hello, Eve,” I said, keeping my voice low and looking over my shoulder across the lounge to the bedroom.
Carol had gone into the bathroom and I could hear water running. There was no fear of her hearing me.
“You stinker,” Eve was saying in a flat expressionless voice. “Why did you walk out on me like that?”
I scarcely understood what she was saying. Excitement and desire for her surged up in me and my blood pounded in my ears.
“What?” I said, struggling to control my feelings. “What are you saying?”
“When I woke and found you weren’t there, it gave me an awful shock. I couldn’t make out where you had got to.”
“So it gave you a shock, did it?” I said and laughed. “Well, you’ve given me a shock or two in the past, so we’re quits.”
There was a pause, then she said angrily, “Oh, so we’re quits? Well, let me tell you something, Clive. I’ve returned your rotten money. I don’t want it. I think it was a stinking trick to say you were going to stay and then to sneak off like that.”
“You’ve returned the money?” I repeated blankly, not believing her. “But, why?”
“I don’t want it from you. I don’t want your rotten money.”
“What did you want to do that for?” I asked, not knowing what I was saying.
“I’ve told you. I just don’t want your rotten money. I can get on all right without it, thank you. I’m not going to be treated like that, so I’ve sent it back to you.”
“I don’t believe you, Eve, I haven’t had it. You’re lying and you know it.”
“I tell you I sent it back.”
“Where did you send it to?”
“I put it in an envelope and sent it to the Writers’ Club. That’s your club, isn’t it?”
I relaxed against the back of the chair, feeling a little sick. “But why did you do it? I wanted you to have the money.”
“I tell you I don’t want your money,” she snapped back. “And Clive, I don’t want to see you -any more. So don’t either telephone or call again. I’m telling Marty she’s not to let you in and if you telephone she’s to cut you off.”