‘Excuse me,’ said Harry, ‘I see you’re nearly finishing. Do you mind if we sit down at your table while you do?’
He was with Midge in the expensive, much recommended, carefully chosen restaurant in the little country town where he had booked a table for lunch, only they had arrived late and the table was gone, and Midge was tired and wanted to sit down, and the head waiter was not being at all helpful.
The man so addressed by Harry looked at him with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit of light-weight tweed with a herringbone design, with a waistcoat, and a watch pocket evidently occupied by a watch. He was wearing what looked like a Guards tie. His educated voice was not quite the sort of educated voice that Harry expected. He said thoughtfully, ‘Well — I’m not actually — nearly finishing.’
Harry was conscious of Midge, some distance behind him, standing at the door of the crowded dining room, tapping her foot and being stared at by people at nearby tables. She had pulled her scarf over her head well forward to conceal her once-famous face, succeeding thereby in making herself more conspicuous.
‘Well, could we just sit down? There isn’t a table yet, and my wife is rather tired. You see, we did book a table only we were late and the bloody restaurant didn’t keep it.’ The word ‘wife’ came out easily. Harry and Midge had already had two days and two nights of their longed-for and indeed wonderful weekend, and were on their way back to London. At first Harry had shared Midge’s anxiety about meeting ‘someone they knew’. Now he didn’t care a hang. He was winning the great game. The word ‘bloody’ was an instinctive appeal to the man he was addressing.
The man, who had a plate with some fragments of cheese in front of him, and an almost empty cup of coffee, looked at Harry with an air of detached not unbenevolent curiosity. He was in no hurry. He said, ‘I don’t
quite
see why you should come and join me. When one lunches alone one wants, at least I do, to lunch alone.’
Harry thought, God, a whimsical intellectual. He said, ‘I quite understand, and I wouldn’t usually ask such a favour, but as we’ve been let down and the head waiter won’t help, I felt I had to fend for myself, and you’re the only single person here, and as you’ve finished — ’
‘Ah, but I haven’t.’
‘Nearly finished, I thought you wouldn’t mind if we just sat down and looked at the menu.’
‘You could sit in the bar,’ said the man.
‘The bar’s full,’ said Harry, with exasperation beginning to sound, ‘there’s nowhere to sit, and my wife doesn’t like bars.’
‘I’m sorry to seem unsympathetic,’ said the man, who had alert sparkling brown eyes, ‘but I still don’t see why I should agree to your suggestion. I value my table and my solitude. I don’t see that the fact that I am a single person has any relevance.’
‘Well, there are two of us and only one of you.’
‘An argument from mere numbers is equivalent to an argument from mere force.’
‘We won’t disturb you — ’
‘You are already doing so.’
‘And there’s more space at this table.’
‘There may be more physical space,’ said the man, ‘but there is not more psychological space. This is an expensive restaurant. One pays for its amenities, one of which is to be left alone to finish one’s lunch in peace.’
People at neighbouring tables who had been staring at Midge had by now transferred their attention to Harry. There were smiles. Other conversations ceased.
The head waiter too had noticed the incident. He came up and said to the man in an impersonally insolent voice, ‘Have you finished your meal, sir?’ Not that the head waiter was on Harry’s side. His contempt for his clients was impartial.
‘No, I haven’t,’ said the man. ‘I think I’ll have a liqueur. Could I see the wine list?’
Harry rose and marched back to the door. Midge had by now retired from the dining room and was hanging about just outside the bar. As soon as she saw Harry she turned and darted out of the front door of the hotel, making for the car park. Harry caught her up at the car. She was in tears. He opened the door and she got in.
‘Oh why did this have to happen!’
Harry steered the car out of the car park and set off at random down the road. ‘Well, you told me to do something!’
‘Everyone was staring at us.’
‘Don’t cry, Midge.’
‘My nerves are on edge.’
‘It’s because we’re going home, back to London, that is.’
‘Everyone was beastly to us, everyone was looking at us.’
‘We’ll find another restaurant, there must be something tolerable around here.’
‘No, I don’t want a restaurant, anyway it’s so late now, no one would have us.’
‘We could eat sandwiches in a pub.’
‘You know I hate pubs. I don’t want to be stared at any more. I feel everyone’s against us.’
‘Maybe,’ said Harry, ‘but we’ll win all the same. What would you like? We’ve got to eat.’
‘Let’s have a picnic, like I said before, only you wouldn’t. I don’t want much to eat.’
‘I do,’ said Harry. ‘I’m ravenous. And I’ve been driving for hours.’
‘Well, you buy the stuff, buy anything you want, and a bottle of wine.’
‘Two bottles. All right.’ Harry hated picnics.
‘Then we needn’t be in a hurry,’ said Midge, who had dried her eyes. ‘My darling, I’m sorry — ’
‘I’m sorry too. It hasn’t spoilt everything, has it?’
‘Of course not!’
‘We’ve been so happy. We will be so happy.’
‘We
are
so happy.’
‘That’s what matters, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve quite recovered now. Look, there’s a big grocer’s shop, you can buy everything. I’ll wait in the car.’
Harry went into the shop. He felt he had to give way to Midge now. The restaurant had been his idea. What had wrecked it, by making them so late, was his other idea of taking Midge to see his old school. Harry’s spartan public school, which had been Casimir’s school too, was situated in wild lonely very beautiful country, on the edge of a little town isolated among big silky sheep-dotted hills sparsely traversed by narrow winding roads between exquisitely constructed stone walls. The sun had been shining. It was a lovely drive, except that they had got lost. Midge was hopeless with maps. Then when they reached the school Harry wanted to go in and explore, show Midge his old dormitories, his old classrooms, the gym, the playing fields, scene of his triumphs. It was half term. The buildings were mostly empty, some suitcases on beds, some parents and offspring strolling in the gardens. Harry led Midge in a daze through these rooms and corridors which were so soaked in, darkly, thickly, painted over with, the intense impure emotions of boyhood, places he still constantly visited in his dreams. Sickening himself with the excitements of memory, he kept Midge there too long, perhaps bored her, and made them late for lunch. Now, guilty, he felt he owed her the picnic which she had several times suggested and he had always adroitly evaded.
He returned to the car with a bag full of goodies and two wine bottles.
‘Have we got a corkscrew?’ said Midge, who had been studying the map.
They had not. Nor had they got a tin opener, knives, forks, spoons, plastic cups and plates, or paper napkins. After another cruise in search of these Harry was feeling very hungry and on the point of being cross.
‘Harry — ’ said Midge, as they drove out of the town.
He knew from her tone that she was going to ask a favour, and he tried to swallow his crossness.
‘Yes, my darling, my dear — ?’
‘I’ve been looking at the map, and, you know, the motorway passes quite close to Seegard.’
‘To where? Oh that place where Jesse lived.’
‘Lives. You can’t have forgotten its name.’
‘No. I just blotted it out of my consciousness long ago.’
‘Would you mind if — ’
‘Yes, I would!’
‘I don’t mean call on them! I’d just like to drive somewhere near arid see the tower. You can see it for miles across that flat land. I’d like to see that countryside again.’
‘No, Midge.’
‘Why not? We’ve been to
your
place and spent hours there. Why can’t we just go round through that bit of country? We needn’t go near the house, I’d hate to anyway, but I’d just like to look at the region.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’d like to! You said this morning lovers give each other each other’s
past.
Well, I want to give you this piece of mine.’
‘You’ve never got over Jesse looking at you and saying “Who is that girl?’”
‘Don’t be silly. All right, I haven’t! Good heavens, you’re jealous!’
‘Of course I am. It’s ironic, I could die of it. Only I’m planning not to. Do you realise how much I suffer every day, every moment, at your being with Thomas? And now you’re
going back
to him, back to your
husband.
Midge, we must decide. Listen, I’ve got a flat for us.’
‘A flat?’
‘Yes, a place where we can be entirely on our own, where there’s no Thomas at all, where I can cook for you. We’ll stay there tonight. Thomas won’t be back till tomorrow. Meredith will still be in Wales — ’
‘I said I’d ring him.’
‘You can ring him from the flat.’
‘Harry — do be careful — ’
‘I won’t be careful, I’m fed up with being careful, God, how pathetic, as I listen to myself,
begging
you to come to that little flat in the intervals of your life with Thomas. Midge, we love each other absolutely. Yes or no?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know about those tigers — what we said — the tigers of desire — ’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re closer now than we’ve ever been. You know that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then have courage, my angel, my dear, it’s all so near now, our happiness, one more move and we’re
there
and
forever.
We must stop
pretending.
We
aren’t
happy and that’s a
scandal.
You say you hate telling lies and you’ve been bothered by people looking at you and about my calling you my wife, all right, let’s stop it all, clear it all away and get in the clear. Please, darling, sweetheart, if you like I’ll stop the car and go on my knees. Midge, you know it’s going to happen, just stop putting it off, you know it’s
got
to happen.’ He stopped the car. In the sudden silence the sun shone upon a field of damp pliant green grass and a group of dozy meditative black and white cows and the blue sign for the motorway. A church tower rose beyond some trees. A distant dog barked.
Midge said, ‘Yes.’
‘Well, don’t look so grim and stony about it!’
‘It’s easy for you. I’ve got to wade through blood.’
‘Whose blood? Thomas won’t mind much, you know he won’t. He’ll
arrange
to recover! Anyway he has no blood. And Meredith is ours.’
‘Yes. I love you. And it’s got to happen.’
‘So there.’ Harry started the engine. He did not want now to press her further. He was feeling his way, oh so delicately, through the maze of her emotions, of her terrible dangerous hidden pain. He thought, she will come to the flat tonight. He said, ‘My dear heart, we’ll go anywhere you like, just show me the map. Where’s that place?’
Midge pointed. ‘About there, I think.’
‘It’s not exactly close to the motorway. About thirty miles. I don’t call that close.’
‘I do.’
‘If it were a straight road — but look at the way those little roads wind about. Never mind, we’ll go and take a very distant view.’
‘I just want to see that flat land again, it’s very strange and special.’
‘It’s funny, you look like Chloe today, perhaps it’s the local air!’
‘We could have our picnic there.’
‘Oh we’ll want to eat long before that!’ Only Harry found that he was no longer hungry. He smiled as he drove along. He was feeding upon Midge’s wonderful affirmatives.
At that very moment Edward Baltram was experiencing a miracle. (The second one that day.) He was holding a letter which had been put into his hand by one of the tree men, the man whom he had seen before. Edward had spent the morning in bed, giving himself over with a kind of relief to feeling ill. To his visitors, who appeared separately, Stuart, Mother May, Bettina, Ilona, he had enacted illness. He had not come down for lunch. Mother May had brought him a tasty anonymous soup which he had quite enjoyed. After lunch, surreptitiously, he got up, dressed, and sorted out his things, dividing his own clobber from the borrowed stuff. He did not know what to do with Ilona’s necklace and put it inside a pair of socks. He looked at his suitcase, which now appeared so alien and old, but did not pack it. He sat on his bed. He was only playing with the idea of leaving. For how could he leave Jesse? The idea of kidnapping Jesse and taking him to London recurred, but with no picture of how it was to be done.