Page 41 of The Girl in a Swing

to go now.'

  At that moment Kathe opened her eyes, raised her head

  and said, 'Alan!'

  I went over and took her hand. No one stopped me, and

  I stood looking down at her face.

  It was like the leaves on the broken ash bough that

  morning; failing, lustreless, dulled; like a mask, like the

  wreck of Kathe. Her eyes looked into mine without recognition

  and I realized that when she had uttered my name

  she could not have known that I was in the room. Her face that

  exquisite face - was no longer beautiful. It was not distorted,

  yet through some slight but indefinable change had

  become a travesty. I cannot bear to recall it further. For an

  instant the thought crossed my mind that this was not Kathe

  - that they had played some trick on me. Then, weeping, I

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  bent down, and kissed her, dropped her hand and turned

  away from the bed.

  The policeman, gently enough, took my arm and began

  to lead me away. Just as we were about to go out through

  the door she said, quite clearly and in her natural voice,

  'Mogst du nicht Schmerz durch meinen- Tod gewinnen.' I

  stopped, and after a moment she whispered, 'Ich hatte kein

  Mitleid.'

  We waited, but she did not speak again, and we went outside

  and sat on a bench in the corridor. After a few moments

  the policeman said, Tm very sorry, sir, to have to trouble

  you, but what language was that the lady was speaking?'

  'German. She's German by birth.'

  'Would you very much mind telling me, sir, what she said?'

  'Ich hatte kein Mitleid. 1 had no pity.'

  ' "I had no pity," sir. Thank you.' He wrote it down.

  They gave me pain-killers and sleeping pills and I spent

  the night in a private ward of the hospital. Early next morning,

  soon after I had woken, the Sister came into the room

  alone and told me that Kathe had died during the night.

  I felt no shock and did not ask the cause. It seemed like

  the close of a play which, one has already realized, can end

  only so.

  The Sister, I dare say, was surprised, having naturally assumed

  that I would not be prepared for such news. Perhaps

  she had expected me to be incredulous, to shed tears, ask

  questions, blame the hospital. For a while she sat silently

  by the bed, no doubt waiting for me to collect myself sufficiently

  to reply. At length, as I did not speak, she said in a

  controlled and formal tone, 'I'm very sorry indeed, Mr Desland.

  We all are. I know this must be a great shock to you.

  When you feel you can manage it, Dr Fraser will be ready

  to tell you more about your wife's case. I expect you'd

  rather I left you now,'

  352

  26

  As soon as the Sister had gone, however, the nurse on duty

  brought my breakfast and sat down on the bed with the tray

  on her knees.

  'I know how unhappy you'll be feeling, Mr Desland,' she

  said, in a blunt, kindly tone, 'but you must try to eat something.

  You'll feel better if you do. You've got to help us to

  look after you, you know.'

  It was a relief to do as she asked and, as when one is

  playing a game or reading a book with a child, I was able,

  at least to some extent, to see things through her eyes and

  adopt her point of view. She was honest and genuine, she was

  doing her best and her plain, straightforward talk was bearable

  where trying to respond to a more sophisticated mind

  would only have imposed a greater strain on mine. Perhaps

  she knew this. Nurses see a lot.

  'What's your name?' I asked, like a homesick child trying

  to make friends.

  'Nurse Dempster,' she answered. I suppose she didn't

  want me to start calling her Mary or Joan in the hearing of

  the Sister.

  Haltingly, I began talking to her about Kathe. I told her

  how we had been married only six weeks, of Kathe's beauty

  and the admiration she had attracted wherever we went,

  of how she had changed my life and made my fortune, and

  how happy we had both been to feel sure that she was

  pregnant. And then, with a burst of tears, 'And Nurse, they

  think - they all think - that I -'

  'I'm quite sure you didn't,' she replied, putting a hand on

  my shoulder. 'Not after what you've said. Why don't you

  try to tell me what happened? I mean, you'll have to tell

  someone, dear, sooner or later, won't you? Did you have a

  row, or what?'

  'I don't care what happens to me,' I said. 'It doesn't

  matter; nothing matters. It's their thinking I could ever have

  harmed her -'

  353

  'But if you didn't, you've only to tell the truth, surely?'

  she answered, her plain, kindly face full of perplexity. 'Only,

  people are wondering what happened, naturally, and there's

  such terrible things are done sometimes - well, you know

  that, dear, don't you? I mean, what you see in the papers-'

  At her words I suddenly saw my predicament, irremovable

  as a great block of granite. 'You'll have to tell someone

  sooner or later.' Tell them; but what? I had set out at dawn

  and driven my wife a hundred miles to a deserted beach,

  where I had left her, to be found by a stranger, naked, alone,

  out of her mind and dying. I was not concerned about consequences.

  Kathe was dead and I did not care what became of

  me. But that I should be thought to have wished or caused

  her death, whether in cold or hot blood - that was unbearable.

  Inevitably, if I persisted in saying nothing, that was

  what would be assumed. Yet if I told the truth - and what

  was the truth? I did not know myself - no one would believe

  me. I would be revealed as plainly unbalanced, a man capable

  of virtually anything 'in a state of diminished responsibility'.

  And that was not the worst. It seemed to me, overwrought as

  I was, that there might quite likely be further inquiries,

  reaching to Copenhagen. What would they reveal? I knew

  nothing of my wife - who she was or where she had come

  from. I could tell them nothing - except the one appalling

  thing I believed I knew, the thing they must never, for her

  sake, discover. Once, I had seen myself at the apex of the

  world, the nodal point from which flowed to others the

  transcendental blessing and quality of Kathe. That responsibility,

  I now realized, was not at an end. Because I would

  never cease to love Kathe, joy and grief were still heads and

  tails of the same golden coin. Whatever the dreadful truth,

  I must say nothing that could bring about - I must at all

  costs prevent - the tearing down and trampling of Kathe in

  the mud.

  So I remained silent, feeling all the nurse's doubt and disappointment

  at my silence. Yet she was still kind, being one

  of those people who find it hard to be anything else.

  'Why don't you just stay quiet for a little now, dear?' she

  354

  was beginning. 'Doctor'll be round soon-' when the Sister

  came in.

  'Mr Desland
,' she said, with a kind of hasty, embarrassed

  self-consciousness, '-oh, you've had some breakfast, that's

  right - there's a friend of yours outside. He arrived some time

  ago, as a matter of fact, but I believe he went down to talk

  to someone at the police station. He's very anxious to see

  you. Do you think you can manage it?'

  It was Tony Redwood.

  He sat down beside the bed - the nurse slipped out with

  the tray - and for a time neither of us spoke. At length he

  said, 'Look, Alan, suppose I just talk about things for a bit

  and you stop me if you want to? I can always go away and

  come back later. I can do anything you like.'

  'Go on,' I said. Til do my best.'

  'Well, first of all, I don't know whether it matters to you

  or not, but it does to me, so I'll tell you that I'm as good

  as sure you've got nothing to worry about, now, as far as the

  police are concerned. I know that can't make any difference

  to how you feel or what you're suffering, but at least it's

  one small trouble less. I've been talking to the Superintendent

  - told him who you are and so on. He wouldn't commit

  himself, of course, but I'm fairly certain I convinced him that

  it's quite out of the question that - well, you know. Anyway,

  the point is that now we've got plenty of time in that

  quarter, and we can come back to it later if we need to. The

  police won't be bothering you for the time being.

  'What happened yesterday was that they found out your

  address - from papers in your wallet, I suppose - and eventually,

  in the afternoon, they got through to the shop. Deirdre

  telephoned your mother and she telephoned Freda. As it

  happened, I was out until about nine yesterday evening, so

  I didn't hear until I got home. I started out as early as

  possible this morning and - well, here I am. Of course, I

  didn't learn - about poor Kathe - until I arrived, an hour or

  two ago. It's a terrible shock: it will be to everybody. I

  can't tell you how sorry I am, Alan. Your mother's on her

  way here now, with Colonel Kingsford. She doesn't know

  355

  yet either, of course. I'll make sure of being the first to meet

  them when they arrive.'

  'Thank you, Tony,' I said. 'I'm sorry you've had all this

  trouble.'

  'Less trouble for me than for you.'

  He went over to the window and stood with his back to

  me, looking out. After a little he went on, 'I managed to get

  hold of your solicitor - er - Brian Lucas, isn't it? - at his

  home last night. I've never met him personally, but he

  couldn't have been more helpful. I telephoned him again just

  now, and he's ready to come down if you want him. I think

  you may want him, actually, but that still doesn't mean that

  anyone's going to add to your troubles with a lot of stupid

  rubbish.'

  'Why, then?'

  'Well, there'll probably have to be an inquest, you see.

  But let's leave that, too, for the moment. Just leave everything,

  Alan. You've got friends here now, and you need to

  rest. You must have been in a lot of pain with your wrist

  and those scratches. They look bad: I must tell your mother

  what to expect before she sees you.'

  Indeed, I was beginning to feel wretchedly ill. They had

  given me no more pain-killing pills that morning - I suppose

  there's a safety limit, or perhaps they needed to see how

  I would be without them. I could feel every laceration, from

  head to foot, and could scarcely keep from moaning with

  pain.

  'Tony,' I whispered, biting my lips, 'I'm afraid I'm feeling

  pretty rotten. It seems to have come on badly, just these last

  few minutes. D'you think you could-'

  Til go and get someone,' he answered. At that moment,

  however, the Sister returned.

  'Dr Fraser's just coming round now,' she said to Tony.

  Til show you a room where you can wait for a little, shall I?'

  'Thanks, I think I'll wait out on the front,' replied Tony. T

  want to be sure of meeting Mr Desland's mother when she

  arrives.'

  They went out together.

  Within minutes I was almost delirious. It hurt to move and

  356

  it hurt to keep still. The very room seemed hostile. The curtains

  seemed hanging over me in menace and like a sick

  child I could see evil faces in the grain of the floorboards. I

  wanted to relieve myself, but could not summon the strength

  even to sit up. When I shut my eyes the bed began swaying

  and that movement became the unnatural rippling of the

  still, inshore sea beside which I was lying with Kathe in my

  arms.

  'Kathe!' I cried, opening my eyes and jerking myself upright.

  'Kathe!'

  An elderly, grizzled man with bushy eyebrows was sitting

  on the bed. Gently, he put an extra pillow behind my head

  and pressed me back against it.

  'Easy, now: easy, laddie,' he said. 'Were ye havin' a wee

  bit of a nightmare, or what was it?'

  'I'm sorry,' I said. Til try to-'

  'Well, now,' he went on, in a gentle, Scotch drawl, 'if ye're

  wonderin' who I am, Ah'm Dorctor Fraser, an' Ah've just

  come te see how ye're gett'n orn. We've gort te get ye right,

  d'ye see. Let's just be havin' yere things orf, now, so that

  we can have a wee peep at those abrasions an' scratches

  ye've managed to get yersel'. Sister, will ye just be givin'

  the laddie a hand?'

  I had supposed, without thinking, that Dr Fraser must be

  the young man whom I had seen the day before in the

  casualty ward, and had unconsciously been dreading the renewal

  of his hostility. No doubt it had been that tension and

  my own resentment which had hitherto kept me from giving

  way. Now, as this kindly old man went on quietly talking

  while he examined me, it was as though I had been dismissed

  at last, to let fall my weapons and drop down where

  I had been standing for hour after hour on the alert. Instantly

  I was at the mercy of delayed shock and of everything I had

  resisted since the policeman found me above the shore.

  I began to weep, sobbing, 'Kathe! Kathe! Oh, why couldn't

  there be forgiveness? Why couldn't she-'

  The doctor, trying as best he could to penetrate my hysteria,

  bent over me, repeating, 'Will ye no' calm yersel'? Will

  ye calm yersel', man, an' understand that ye're no' to blame?

  357

  However bad yere lawss may be to bear, theer's no one's

  gawn' te blame ye! Will ye let me explain to ye what happened,

  and why yere puir wife died?'

  Beside myself, it seemed to me that he must somehow have

  found out my secret, and that, unbearably, he was about to

  recount it to me and to the listening Sister. I turned to her,

  crying out, 'Don't let him tell! Don't let him! It's all I can

  do for her now!' I tried to get out of bed and for a few

  moments, until I gave up and lay down again, they struggled

  with me, the doctor almost shouting, 'Be reasonable, will ye

  be reasonable, now, man? Ye'll
just mak' it easier for yersel'

  an' for us forbye!'

  What followed I can't remember. Breakdown, hysteria,

  hideous recall. I heard Kathe, a shadow on the wall, crying,

  'Deeper, Alan, deeper!' as the sea swept over her. I saw the

  Alsatian trotting at Mrs Taswell's heels through the wilderness,

  and cried out in terror at the stealthy rustling of the

  bushes behind them. The Girl in a Swing lay shattered in

  fragments which, try as I might, I could not pick up, for

  they escaped like quicksilver between my lacerated fingers.

  Yet all the time, throughout these dreadful fancies, there

  remained at the back of my mind the knowledge that they

  were unreal and that in truth I was using them to avoid facing

  something worse; namely, my fear of how much the

  doctors and the police knew about Kathe, and my despair of

  giving them any convincing account which would not lead to

  further investigation.

  I suppose that at some time during the morning I must

  have been given another drug, for after a while the horrors

  went cackling down into oblivion, and I slept.

  The next thing I recall is waking quietly and realizing,

  without opening my eyes, that it was evening. The same

  oppression and misery lay upon me, but now, in the stillness,

  I found myself able to reflect calmly.

  'Somehow, for Kathe's sake,' I thought, 'I must make myself

  face up to this business. Otherwise I shall remain trapped

  among these nightmares, which I myself am putting up as a

  kind of excuse - a screen between me and what I have to do.

  At all costs I have to find some way to stop them finding out.'

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  But what way? As I lay trying to foresee the probable questions

  of the authorities, a bullying, repetitive rhythm began

  beating through my head. 'Why did you leave her to die?

  Why did you leave her to die?' And this, at last, gave way

  to my own question, 'Why did she, why did she die?'

  7 knew why she had died - I and I alone. But for a start I

  had better compel myself to hear the reasons for which Dr

  Fraser thought she had died; for there, perhaps, I might

  come upon something to suggest what I ought to devise.

  Would Dr Fraser be about now? Was there anyone who could

  get him? I opened my eyes and looked round me.

  My mother, a magazine open on her lap, was sitting asleep

  in an armchair near the bed. She and I were alone in

  the room. She must have dropped off some little while ago,

  for dusk had fallen and it was time to turn on the light.

  When I spoke she sat up at once, came over to the bed

  and put her arms round me.

  I don't remember all we talked of. In so far as it was

  possible to comfort me, she did so by her presence rather

  than by anything she said. She neither spoke of Kathe nor

  asked me to tell her what had happened, and I guessed that

  they had advised her not to mention anything which might

  upset me again. Tony, she said, had gone back to Newbury

  that afternoon. Gerald Kingsford would be staying for the

  next day or two, though he would have to return before

  the week-end.

  'His men don't work full-time on Saturdays or Sundays,

  you see,' she said, 'so he can't very well be off the farm

  then. But I shall stay, Alan dear, of course, until - well,

  until you're able to go home. And you won't have to go back

  to an empty house. Flick's going to come and stay - for a

  time, anyway.'

  Like Tony she talked, carefully, of peripheral things, yet

  all the time, even while I felt most deeply her kindness and

  devotion, there still lay in my mind like a stone the thought

  that, for her own sake as well as Kathe's, I could not, now or

  ever, tell her what I knew. My dismal scene I needs must act

  alone, and I grew impatient to take the first step and find

  out what it was that I had to contend with.

  359

  At length, making an effort to appear composed, I said,

  'There was a Dr Eraser here this morning, Mummy, before

  you arrived. He wanted to talk to me about Kathe. I couldn't

  manage it then, but I'd like to see him now, if he's still

  here.'

  She replied that Dr Fraser had looked in twice that afternoon,

  but the second time, finding me still asleep, had said

  he would come back to-morrow morning.

  'Did he say anything to you,' I asked, 'about - you know about

  what happened? -1 mean, here, last night?'

  'No, darling,' she answered, the tears standing in her eyes.

  'We agreed that it was only right that you should be the

  first to be told.' And then at last she broke down, sobbing