"That's what I thought."
We were in the central square of Semell Town, and it was noon. Old men sat in the shade, the shops were shuttered, in the olive trees growing on the rocky hills behind the town we could hear goat bells, and a donkey braying. We were drinking iced tea, and the timetable from the shipping line lay on the table between us. Seri called the waiter and ordered a spiced pastry.
"Peter, you're not ready to return yet. Don't you see that?"
"I'm worried about Gracia. I shouldn't have left her."
"You had no choice." A motorboat started up in the harbour; in the slumbering heat it seemed as if it were the only mechanical sound in all the islands. "Don't you remember what I told you? You must surrender to the islands, submerge yourself in them. Through them you can escape to find yourself. You've given yourself no chance. It's too soon to return."
"You're just distracting me," I said. "I shouldn't be here. It feels wrong. . . it's not for me. I must go home."
"And you'll go on destroying Gracia."
"I don't know."
In the morning a ship called in Semell, and we boarded her. It was a short voyage--two and a half days, with two ports of call on the way--but as soon as we were on board it was almost as if we were in Jethra itself. The ship was registered there, and the food in the dining saloon had the dull familiarity of home. Most of the other passengers were Jethrans. Seri and I barely spoke to each other. It had been a mistake to go with her to the islands; they were not what I expected.
We docked in Jethra in the late afternoon, and disembarked quickly. We rode the escalator to street level, jostled by the crowds of rush-hour commuters. On the street, traffic rushed past and I glanced at newspaper placards: ambulance drivers were threatening to strike, and the OPEC countries had announced another oil-price increase.
I said: "Are you going to come with me?"
"Yes, but only as far as Gracia's flat. You don't want me anymore."
But suddenly I did, and I took her hand and held it tightly. I sensed that she was about to recede from me again, as Jethra had receded even before I had walked in its streets.
"What am I going to do, Seri? I know you're right, but somehow I can't go through with it."
"I'm not going to try to influence you anymore. You know how to find the islands, and I'll always be there."
"Does that mean you're going to wait for me?"
"It means you'll always be able to find me."
We were standing in the centre of the pavement while the crowds pushed by. Now that I was back in London the urgency of my return had left me.
"Let's go to our café," I said.
"Do you know how to find it?"
We walked along Praed Street, but it was all too emphatic. At the corner with Edgware Road I began to despair.
Then Seri said: "I'll show you."
She took my hand, and after we had gone a short distance I heard a tram bell. I sensed that an almost subliminal change had come over the city's appearance. We turned into one of the broad boulevards that ran through the fashiomiable residential areas, and before long came to the intersection where the pavement café was situated. We sat there for a long time, until after sunset, but then I felt the restlessness growing in me again.
Seri said: "There's a sailing this evening. We could still catch it."
I shook my head. "There's no question of it."
Without waiting to see what she would do, I left some coins on the table-top and started to walk northwands. It was a warm evening, by London standards, and there were many people about. Many of the pubs had ovenspilled into the streets, and the restaurants were doing good business.
I was aware that Seri was following me, but she said nothing and I did not look back at her. I had tired of her, had used her up. She offered only escape . . . but escape from, not to, so there was nothing to replace what I left behind.
But in one sense she had been right: I had needed to see the islands to find myself. Something had been purged from me now.
In the emptiness that remained, I recognized my mistake. I had sought to understand Gnacia through Seri, whereas in reality she was my own complement.
She fulfilled what I lacked, became the embodiment of that. I thought she explained Gracia, but in reality she only defined me to myself.
Walking in these streets, which had become ondinary, I saw a new face of reality.
Seri soothed, where Gracia abraded. Seri aroused, where Gracia discouraged. Seri was calm, where Gracia was neurotic. Seri was bland and pale, and Gracia was turbulent, effervescent, moody, eccentric, loving and alive. Seri was bland, above all.
A creation of my manuscript, she was intended to explain Gracia to me.
But the events and the places described in the manuscript were imaginative extensions of myself, and so were the characters. I had thought they stood for other people, but now I realized they were all different manifestations of myself.
It was dark when we reached the road where Gracia had her flat. I walked more quickly until I could see the house. I saw a light in the front room of the basement. As usual, the curtains had not been drawn, and I turned away, not wanting to see inside.
"You're going to go in and see her, aren't you?" Seri said.
"Yes, of course."
"What about me?"
"I don't know, Seri. The islands weren't what I wanted. I can't hide anymore."
"Do you love Gracia?"
"Yes."
"You know you're going to destroy her again?"
"I don't think so."
What I had done to hurt Gracia most of all was to take refuge in my fantasies. I had to reject them.
Seri said: "You think I don't exist, because you think you created me.
But I've got a life of my own, Peter, and if you found me in that you'd know it isn't true. So far you've only seen a part of me."
"I know," I said, but she was only a part of myself. She was my embodiment of the urge to run, to hide from others. She represented the idea that my misfortunes came from outside, whereas I was learning that they came from within. I wanted to be strong, but Seri weakened me.
Seri said, and I heard bitterness--"Then do whatever you want."
I sensed she was receding from me, and I stretched out to take her hand.
She moved it adroitly away.
"Please don't go," I said.
Seri said--I know you're going to forget me, Peter, and perhaps it's as well. I'll be wherever you find me.
She walked away, her white shirt luminous in the city lights. I watched her, thinking of the islands, thinking of the falsehoods in me she represented. Her slim figure, erect and lithe, the short hair that swung slightly as she walked. She left me, and before she had reached the corner of the street I could see her no more.
Alone with the parked cars I felt a sudden and exhilarating sense of relief. However Seri had intended it, she had released me from my own self-fulfilling escapes. I was free of the definition I had made for myself, and at last I felt able to be strong.
22
Beyond the parked Australian minibus, Gracia's window shone orange-hued behind palings. I walked forward, determined to reconcile our difficulties.
When I reached the edge of the pavement I could see down into the room, and I saw Gracia for the first time.
She was sitting on the bed in full view of the road. She was upright, with her legs crossed beneath her. She held a cigarette in one hand and was gesticulating with the other as she spoke. It was a pose I had seen her in many times; she was active in conversation, was talking about something that interested her. Surprised, because I had assumed she would be alone, I backed away before she noticed me. I moved to a place from where I could see the rest of the room.
A young woman was there with her, curled up in the only chair in the room. I had no idea who she was. She was about Gracia's age, dressed conventionally, weaning spectacles. She was listening to what Gracia was saying, nodding from time to time, speaking infrequently.
When I was sure neither of them had seen me I moved in a little closer.