Niall slipped from my mind.
You walked over, smiling, and stood by the table.
“Can I get you another drink?” you said.
“No, thanks. Not at the moment.”
You sat down, across the table from me. “I was wondering if you’d be here.”
“I can’t imagine what you must have thought,” I said. “I don’t normally approach strange men in pubs.”
“It’s all right,” you said. “I don’t—”
“You see, I thought I recognized you.” I wanted to get through my explanation, the only one I had been able to invent. “You look like someone I used to know, but once I’d spoken to you I knew I was wrong and I didn’t know what to say next.” It sounded lame, but you were still smiling.
“Don’t explain any more. I was glad to meet you.”
I had reddened, remembering my clumsy approach to you. We talked for a while about the mythical friend you were supposed to resemble, and then at last we exchanged names. I was both pleased and irritated to learn that Niall had been right about your name. I told you I was called Sue; everyone I had ever known called me Susan, but I liked the idea of becoming Sue to someone I had newly met.
We had a few more drinks, talking about the sorts of things I had always presumed normal people discussed when getting to know each other—what we did for a living, where we lived, places we both knew, possible mutual friends, anecdotes about ourselves. You told me frankly about the woman you had been with, that her name was Annette, that she was an occasional girlfriend, that she had gone away for a month to visit relatives. I said nothing about Niall.
You suggested a meal, so we crossed the road to an Indonesian restaurant. I was hungry, and glad of the idea. You appeared to be liking me, and I started being worried in case I was being too eager. I knew I should act more coolly, maintain a slight distance from you to keep your interest alive—I had read about this in magazines! But I was excited. I found you more likable than I had dared hope, and it had nothing to do with that first attraction. All the time we were together I was aware of your cloud, its slight exhilarating haze just touching on mine. I was drawing from it, holding myself visible without any strain, finding how easy it was to relax with you and be normal. But aside from this I found you amusing, intelligent, interesting. When you left the table to visit the men’s room I had to close my eyes and breathe steadily, force myself not to overdo it. I was trying to imagine how you must be seeing me, and I did not want to appear too interested or gushing. I was painfully aware how inexperienced I was: twenty-seven, and still a virgin in matters of normality!
At the end of the meal we shared the expense, conscientiously dividing it between us. I was wondering what was going to happen next. From my restricted viewpoint you were such a man of the world, talking lightly of past girlfriends, of having traveled to the States, Australia, Africa, of not having ties or any intention to settle down. Were you taking it for granted we would go to bed together? What would you think of me if we didn’t? What would you think of me if we did?
We walked to your car, and you offered to run me home. I was silent in the car, watching the way you drove, thinking how self-confident you were. Niall was so different, and so was I.
Outside my house you switched off the engine, and for a moment that seemed to say you expected to be invited in. Then you said, “Can I see you again?”
I couldn’t help smiling, hearing the unconscious irony of the phrase. This was what I found so refreshing after years of Nialclass="underline" all your assumptions about me were entirely new. You saw me smile, but of course I was unable to explain. We sat there in the darkened car for several minutes, making plans for a second date on Saturday evening. I wanted more and more to invite you in for a drink, delay you, but I was scared you would tire of me. We parted with a light kiss.
VIII
A heat wave broke over London that week, making it difficult to concentrate on working. All incentive to work declined in the summer anyway, as many of the firms I dealt with slowed down their output, and hot weather always distracted me. Bright sunshine emphasizes London’s inherent scruffiness, the old buildings showing their cracks and weathering faults. I liked the city under gray cloud, the narrow congested streets closed in by dark stone and low roofs, softened by rain. Summer made me restless, thinking how much I should like to be on a beach or cooling down in mountain passes.
Now I had you to distract me even more. The morning after our date I lay in my bed, musing contentedly and staring up through the window at the tops of the trees in the adjacent gardens. It was all right to indulge myself when you were not there to see me. I knew I was acting like a teenager, but I was happy. Niall had never made me happy.
The three days passed slowly again, and I had plenty of time to indulge my fantasies. Although I was worried about seeming too keen on you, I was also wondering how long Niall would be lying low. It was so important to know you well before he returned. I thought about him briefly, away on his mysterious trip to France, wondering if he was really there.
I was getting ready to go out on the Saturday evening when I was called to the telephone. It was Niall—of course it was Niall. His talent for sensing the most inconvenient and intrusive moment was almost psychic. I was expecting you to pick me up in less than half an hour.
“How are you getting on, Susan?”
“I’m fine. What do you want? I’m just about to go out.”
“Yes, that’ll be Grey again, won’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. Can you call back tomorrow?”
“I want to talk to you now. This is long-distance.”
“It isn’t convenient now,” I said. His voice was clear and loud in the earpiece, making me suspicious. There was none of the usual quiet electronic noise on the line, the sense of intervening miles. He sounded as if he was in London.
“I don’t care about that,” he said. “I’m lonely, and I want to see you.”
“I thought you were with friends. Where are you?”
“In France. I told you.”
“You sound very close.”
“We’ve got a good line. Susan, I made a mistake coming here without you. Why don’t you come and join me?”
“I can’t. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“You always say there’s not much in summer.”
“It’s different this time. I’ve got a pile of stuff to deliver next week.”
“Then why are you going out this evening? It wouldn’t take you long to get here, and you needn’t stay more than a few days.”
“I can’t afford it,” I said. “I’ve run out of money again.”
“You don’t need money to travel. Get the first train.”
“Niall, this is ridiculous! I can’t just drop everything!”
“But I need you, Susan.”
I was suddenly less sure he was lying to me. Niall’s fits of introspection and loneliness were real enough. If he really had been in London, as I still half suspected, he would have abandoned the pretense of being away and come to see me. It made me feel hard and unsympathetic to hear the self-pity in his voice, because it was a naked appeal to my better nature, one that had usually worked in the past. I wished he would leave me alone! I was staring again at the notice board by the telephone; the same messages were there, unanswered.
“I can’t think about this now,” I said. “Call me tomorrow.”
“You think I don’t know what you’re up to. You’re with Grey, aren’t you?”