He couldn't understand how she could leave just like that. Without a single word. Had it all really meant nothing to her? Could she really have felt nothing of what he had felt? For a moment pain gripped his mouth and throat and he was obliged to swallow several times to ease it slightly. He saw her leap into the open tram car as it started to pull away. It was time for him to go too but he waited. She was still standing on the steps of the tram. She could have turned her head at least.
She stood on the dirty steps. She was getting back very late again but it didn't matter. It had been a remarkable night — a pity it couldn't have lasted, a pity the lorry had turned up, a pity the morning had come, a pity he was like all the others. . Someone behind her shouted, 'Climb aboard, miss!' She moved to the top step and the tram screeched its way round the bend. Maybe he's still standing there. She wanted to lean out and check, but she was being jostled into the car. She caught sight of an empty seat. At last she realized just how tired she was. The conductor clipped her ticket — the dark-coloured tram uniform — he smiled slightly, possibly at her, but more likely at the bronze coin — it felt out of place at this time of the morning.
She half closed her eyes and could suddenly see the dark silhouette and it occurred to her that even if she were to shut her eyes tight or run away from it as far as she could, she would still see it — motionless on the dark wall nearby. It was inside her. She could reach out and touch it, saying, Come with me, don't
leave, don't struggle, stay by me, and he would be with her at last and never leave her. She took her ticket and smiled back.
The time on the large street clock was 5.30 a.m. He had to be in for his exam by eight-thirty. Nobody else will have prepared themselves in such a sensational fashion. An entire afternoon, evening and night. With her. And in the end she kissed me. They're not going to believe that.
Lingula, he said to her in his mind, lingula, he recited silently, a genus of the order of brachiopods, the shells either open or closed in the anterior free part of the shell that has embedded bristles. Like this entire group of worms, the lingula is closely related to the order of phoronids. .
(1962)
HEAVEN, HELL, PARADISE
He thought it best to park two blocks from her building. When he got out he looked around carefully, but there was too much traffic to work out whether there had been a car tailing him.
He entered the building and stood waiting, hidden behind the front door. He noticed the thumping of his heart but what worried him more than the thought of being followed was how he would be received, half a year on, by the woman he had returned for. He had no idea, the last time they parted, that it would be for so long. And it could have been for ever if he'd made the same decision as most people in his situation. He should have phoned her beforehand, except that phones couldn't be trusted. He took a quick look into the street but there was no sign of anyone suspicious.
So he went up to the first floor, noticing the familiar odour of turpentine and thinner that escaped into the passage from inside the flat. There was the same painted plaque on the door:
a couple lying on a bed with Jan and Milada Kaska inscribed in copperplate. He rang the bell.
For a moment there was no sound. She couldn't be home, although — at least in the days when he'd had an interest in her timetable — she didn't usually leave the house until the afternoon. Then came the sound of familiar footsteps and the rattle of the lock. She was wearing make-up and an unfamiliar outfit, apparently on her way out somewhere.
'You're here?' To his surprise, she blushed. 'You're crazy, Doc! What if he was home?'
'He's got a job to go to.' He stepped inside and kissed her.
'You're crazy, you're crazy,' she repeated. 'What are you doing here? You were abroad!'
Yes, but you were here.'
'These days everyone's going in the opposite direction. Haven't you heard?'
'I couldn't care less what other people do.'
You're crazy. They'll put you in jail, sooner or later. And if they don't they'll sort you out, so you won't know where you are.'
'I'll be with you. There's no point in trying to get me to change my mind now I'm here. Can you spare a moment?'
'I had no idea you were corning. There's no way I could have known.'
He tried to put his arms round her, but she broke free of him. What do you think you're doing? How do you know I want you?'
'I can come some other time. I'll be able to now.'
'I would have thought that depended on me too — whether I feel like having you.'
'I came because of you. I came because I wanted you so much I couldn't bear it any longer.'
'What nonsense are you talking?' She finally retreated from the front hall into the living room and he followed her. The room was the same as when he was last there, apart from some new paintings on the walls which must have been her own work. She didn't sit down or offer him a seat. 'So you've come back for me?' she said with a shrug. 'It's your business why you've returned — I hope you don't think it's mine?' She was standing opposite him and staring at him as if he were a total stranger. As if she had forgotten all the days and nights they had spent together, when they'd exchanged endless protestations of love. 'I wasn't expecting you. You're crazy. You take me by surprise like this and immediately fling yourself at me. I'd already forgotten about you. After all there was no point waiting for you once I realized I'd never see you again.'
'I thought about you all the time!'
'It's your business if you thought about me.' She started. Someone was stamping up the stairs. A dog barked on the other side of the wall.
She came up close to him. 'You can't stay here!'
'Is he due back about now?'
'You act as though he was the only person in the world. It so happens he's gone off. He's far away. All he left me were these,' and she showed him two slim booklets. The green one was a savings book, the red one was clearly an identity card. 'Everyone's going off somewhere. I'm the only one hanging around.'
'Did he go in the same direction?'
'He went off on a business trip and it makes no difference what direction he went in. But a couple of dozen relatives have keys to this flat.'
'We'll take a trip somewhere. I've got my car here!'
'You're crazy, a complete nutcase. You've been away for about a hundred years and you turn up here expecting me to be ready and waiting with my nightdress and change of shoes in a suitcase. .'
'Yes,' he said, 'that's exactly what I expected. When's he getting back?'
'I've no idea. I didn't ask. And anyway, people can return unexpectedly — didn't you know?'
'I suppose so, if they're deeply in love,' he conceded.
'Or off their head. Just hang on for a moment. I have to make a phone call.'
The hotel had recently been renovated. The room was on the fifth floor at the very end of a corridor and was doing its best to look modern. The walls had been covered in blue wallpaper and the divans had been given colourful cretonne covers. The same material had been used to cover the armchairs and even the fixed-station radio receiver. On the glass-covered table top lay a bottle opener. However, instead of a bottle there was a telephone and a folder of writing paper.
'Can you see that neon sign?' she asked.
Immediately above their window shone a red and white fluorescent tube. The light from it came through the window onto their beds. 'We've a room with neon,' she laughed.
He put his arms round her. She let him kiss her and then pushed him away. 'Wait. I'm all sticky from that car ride.' She went into the bathroom, but as in the old days she left the door half open. Everything was like the old days, just as it ought to be. Up to this moment he still hadn't been sure it was wise to have returned, but now he knew he had made the right