‘We?’
‘Me and Diane Sedleigh. We’re going to live in Spain on my pension.’
‘Where in Spain?’ said Alex, watching him intently with her narrow-eyed cat-look.
‘I don’t know yet. Somewhere cheap. We’ll have to look at the map, get advice. I’ve got some money saved, and quite a decent pension. It’ll go further in Spain. We’ll live near the sea and eat cheaply, olives and fruit and fish. It’s suddenly occurred to me that I might be able to be happy at last, it’s not too late, it’s not impossible, have what I want. We’ll be different people. We’ll forget this place ever existed.’
‘Can I come too?’ said Alex.
George stopped munching. ‘Would you like to?’
‘Yes, very much. I wouldn’t be in your way. I’d live somewhere not terribly far off and invite you to lunch. We could go swimming together sometimes.’
‘And Diane?’
‘I’d like Diane, why not.’
‘Even if she wants to be Diane McCaffrey? She does, you know.’
‘Yes. I feel I’m changing too. Some revolution is accomplished.’
‘Perhaps it’s something to do with William, some bit of his soul that’s flown into us. Except that it’s been coming … I now see … for a long time…’
‘Could I come? I’ve got plenty of money. We could build two houses. I’d pay for a car.’
‘Alex,’ said George, ‘we’re inspired, we’ve become gods!’
And he looked at her with his radiant bland mad face, in which, at that moment, Alex saw the reflection of her own. They stared at each other. George said, ‘I must go.’
‘I’ll think of you with Diane, looking at that map.’
George murmured, ‘Don’t worry. There’s a place beyond.’
‘Beyond Spain?’
‘No - just beyond - beyond. It’s not like I thought, with a great heave of the will, or by great excessive things, at all - when all is permitted one doesn’t want to, you see - it’s so easy, just a matter of relaxing - and simply letting go - of all that — ’
‘All what?’
‘Never mind. Dear, dear Alex. Kiss me as if we were … anybody … nobody … as of course … we are …’
They both rose, and kissed. Lips only touching, they hung together as if suspended in space. They remained so for a long moment.
‘Goodbye, Alex. Soon, soon, you know. I’ll take the rest of the sandwiches.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To the cinema.’
However George did not go to the cinema. It was raining when he left Belmont, and he decided to go home to Druidsdale rather than walk to the Odeon in the High Street, which was farther away. George hated rain, he hated getting his hair wet, his feet wet, his clothes wet. He had no umbrella. He felt vaguely unwell and feverish. And he wanted to eat the rest of the sandwiches in peace. He wanted an interval in his existence, his life which had for some time been such intensely hard work. He felt, for the first time for months, that he might be able to rest, to do something which had seemed forever impossible, to lie down on his back and close his eyes and feel quiet and drowsy and unafraid and at peace. At the same time he felt excited and confused and odd. Something had snapped, had given way, and that was (was it not?) better. He did not want to examine the new state at all closely, he felt he would never want to examine anything closely again. He wanted to spend the rest of his life in peace, with people who did not examine things closely.
He reached Druidsdale and got the key into the lock. His hand trembled. He opened the door and entered the darkish hall. He stopped. There was something wrong. There was something there. Something terrible. He peered. Stella was sitting on the stairs.
‘Hello, George.’
‘Oh God.’ George sat down on one of the chairs in the hall.
‘I’m sorry to come suddenly.’
‘Why have you come at all? Why now, oh Christ, why now?’
‘Well, it had to be sometime. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.’
‘You cold - cold - beast.’
‘I can’t talk otherwise. You know how I talk. I can only say what’s the case. I feel very upset, very emotional, not cold.’
‘Other people have emotions. You say it’s the case that you feel emotional.’
‘I’m sorry I went away. I can’t explain my conduct. Though there is an explanation. I just mean it would take some time, if you ever wanted to hear. Nothing dramatic, nothing interesting.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘With N, with Mrs Blackett.’
‘N, that impotent voyeur, I thought so.’
‘Why?’
‘I saw his sly old face in the street, he’s always after me.’
‘Don’t be angry about that.’
‘Oh I’m not. Were you afraid to come back?’
‘Yes, I suppose so — ’
‘Afraid I’d kill you?’
‘No - just afraid of you - you’re like a dog that bites - one is afraid. I don’t like unpredictable things.’
‘Why have you come back then?’
‘I had to decide whether I wanted to go on being married to you. That was another reason why I didn’t come back. I felt it wouldn’t be fair to you.’
‘What wouldn’t be fair?’
‘To come back and leave again.’
‘And you decided —?’
‘I decided I did want to go on being married to you.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why. Because I love you. Because I think - this between us is - absolute.’
‘Absolute, what a word. You always were an absolutist. You talk of love, you who have no tenderness, no gentleness, no forgiveness.’
‘I have these things, but you just kill the expression of them, the way I would express them, you reject all my language, all my — ’
‘Always my fault.’
‘No.’
‘You have never forgiven me anything. You remember every fault. You might as well be the recording angel. You are a sort of angel, a frightful one.’
‘Let’s not talk about forgiving, I think it’s a weak idea, usually false — ’
‘You’re like Cordelia, the most overrated heroine in literature.’
‘The question is, do you want to go on being married to me?’
‘What a charmingly blunt question. No.’
‘Are you sure?’
George was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘That night - when the car went into the canal - can you remember it clearly?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened exactly?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Was it an accident, or did I deliberately make it happen?’
‘You mean you don’t remember?’
‘No.’
Stella paused. ‘It was an accident.’
‘It was an accident?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She added, ‘You like to think of yourself as a fierce violent person, but you’re harmless really. Just a bad-tempered dog.’
‘And you claim to love this animal.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You humiliate me in order to love me. That’s not love. It’s like torturing your pet. The sort of thing that interests N.’
They sat silently in the darkish hallway, Stella on the stairs, George sitting near the door on a chair against the wall, not facing Stella but facing an old ornate Victorian hallstand which they had bought in an auction sale when they were engaged.
Stella said, ‘See, I brought the netsuke back.’
George saw on the hallstand the little array of pale ivory figures. He said, ‘Yes, I went looking for them one day.’
‘I thought you would.’
‘Isn’t it rather sentimental of you to bring them back? The sort of thing a real woman might do. Am I supposed to be touched and softened?’
Stella was silent. She began to fumble in her handbag.
George said, ‘Oh you aren’t crying are you? Can you cry now? Congratulations. You never used to.’ He added, ‘I’ve got a cold.’