She noted the orderly living room, everything in its place, not much used, now that his wife had gone. He intercepted her gaze, glad that he had, by coincidence, bumped the vacuum cleaner around only that morning, always a man for keeping the old ship tidy.
His wife’s departure had obviously not bothered him much, which made her less sure of what she had to say. He had the same caring though distant expression as when they met by the roadside. ‘I suppose you know why I’m here?’
‘I’ve been expecting you.’ He pointed to an armchair. ‘In fact I was going to call you later today. Let me get you a drink.’ He was still amazed by her youthful and untouched aspect, though helped by the dull light of the day.
‘I shouldn’t drink since I’m driving,’ she said, ‘but I’ll have a sherry.’
He found some Tio Pepe in the cupboard, halfway down and hadn’t been used for months: shot a whisky in for himself. ‘Pity you had to come all this way,’ for nothing, was his meaning.
‘Oh, I don’t mind the drive. The countryside’s so pretty around here.’
The fixed smile showed the force of her worry, then was crossed out by a flash of uncertainty. ‘I’m glad you caught me in.’ He was, had been about to drive to the pub, anything to escape the weight of the house for an hour.
‘You know what I’ve come about, I’m sure.’
He sat in the other armchair. Amanda had spent over a thousand pounds having them reupholstered – totally redone – and she had scarpered a week after he had written the cheque. But they were damned comfortable, and the one Laura sat in suited her wonderfully. ‘About Howard, of course. You must be worried. I know I would be. It’s a funny situation, and I don’t know how I got into it.’ He wasn’t going to tell her point blank that Howard had to come, or even admit in any way that he was on Howard’s side, unwilling at the moment to fight another man’s battle, at least directly. ‘How either of us got into the situation I’ll never know.’
They had talked it up like a pair of schoolboys, probably suggested by something in one of those ridiculous morse letters. ‘Well, you did, it seems. Howard’s deadly serious. He’s all ready. I have to stop him, and you must help me.’ In the excitement of feeling her task would be easier than imagined she drank her sherry – and a good sized measure he had given her.
The idea of getting her half seas over made him smile, and as if in encouragement he swallowed the last finger of his whisky. ‘I’d like to, but I don’t think anybody can.’ She indicated no, but he refilled her glass. ‘Sorry, leave it, then. A stray tomcat comes around and I’m sure that if I pour it into a saucer it’ll lap it up.’
She was supposed to laugh, but felt no reason to: ‘You’re the only one I can turn to. I’ve no one else,’ forgetting the other arguments in her mind before coming down to this.
He put on what Amanda called his ‘irrecoverable silence’, knowing they were only at the beginning. Was she trying to beat him at his favourite game of saying nothing for as long as possible? He refilled his glass and she, unaccountably, took a swig at the sherry. So far from the road, the tomb-like quiet of the house was broken only by the tapping of raindrops.
‘I never thought Howard was serious,’ he said, ‘but when I knew he was, I put out feelers, to see if someone would let him come with us. Maybe I was too persuasive, though it’s hard to believe, but the skipper thought it a benevolent act, to take him. I think that was because he had a brother who was blinded in a flying accident with the Fleet Air Arm in Korea, and he’d often taken him on boat trips. He enjoyed them no end. The men looked after him. They took exceptional care, though he rarely needed it. The various crews thought it lucky to have a blind man on board. A bit of a novelty. Took their minds off the harsh reality of separation from land, you might say. I went on a couple of their trips, and there was never any instance of danger or inconvenience. In fact Old Blind Harry, as we referred to him, always looked – and felt, I’m sure – in absolutely top form when he stepped back on dry land, saying he’d never had a better time in his life. He gained no end of confidence. Movement, coordination – that sort of thing, which can’t be bad for a disabled man, if you’ll forgive me using the term. He even volunteered for the washing up, and always gave a hand with the sails – though Howard’s trip will be on a motor job. He was almost as useful as the rest of us in the end. Mind you, we joshed him around a bit, teased him, but that seemed to please him as much as anything. He took it in good part when one of the men put a sextant into his hand at midday and told him to take a sight on the sun. Made him feel more like one of us, when he was teased. There was the time when we went cruising around the Shetlands and Orkneys, and ended up in Iceland for a week. We had a brilliant time at the hot springs. He particularly took to Iceland because the people were so interested to meet a blind sailor. They were really kind to him.’ Especially the girls, they were all over him, he was going to say, but thought better than to add such a touch to his fantasy. ‘He was singing pop songs on the way back. We all were. Getting into Aberdeen was hilarious.’
He went across to a carriage clock on the shelf and wound it as if to bring the tightness of its spring to the same tension as her heart. Tension was good for her, even necessary if she was to have some kind of release. It would do her good. He came back to his chair. ‘Then again, I can put myself in your place, and see how the idea disturbs you. If you and Howard have never been apart, as I understand you haven’t, the prospect can’t be very appealing. I don’t suppose Howard should be allowed to go scot free on such a trip if it’s going to distress you. That’s the last thing I would like to be responsible for. I’ve too high a regard for you – and for Howard, come to that – to help him make you in anyway unhappy.’
Surprised by such an easy win, she wished he would stop talking. Another swallow of her drink could do no harm. ‘You’re very kind and understanding about it.’
It was wonderful what breathing did to a woman’s bosom, at least to hers. Her breasts, even at the faintest movement under her thin blue sweater, were as well shaped as those on a girl of twenty. They positively invited him to touch them. A one-second glance took everything in, and he wondered if she was aware of it. ‘Thank you for saying that, because I know how important it is for you.’
‘Of course it is.’ She was a skinful of emotion, and he would have said anything she wanted merely for the pleasure of being close. If Howard envied him being able to see whatever went on in the damned and for the most part dismal world he envied Howard for being married to a woman like her. ‘I’ll do whatever you like,’ he said. ‘If you say he ought not to go, then he won’t.’
‘It’s true that I don’t want him to, but you’ve taken trouble, and made arrangements.’
‘Well, yes, I have. They’re expecting him, looking forward to it, you might say. I gave my word even. But I’ll willingly throw all that to the winds. I simply thought I was doing a favour for a friend in getting him out into the world, on a voyage he would remember with pleasure for the rest of his life. But it’s off now. Say no more about it. I’ll phone and tell them as soon as you’ve gone. I’d do it now if I didn’t want to break off the pleasure of your company.’
Every word was making her more uncertain, but did he know it? She didn’t think so. He was open and honest, and what did it matter to him, after all, whether or not Howard went? During the car ride from home she had intended saying that if he thought the only way to stop Howard going was not to go himself she would meet his salary for the aborted trip with whatever amount he would be paid. Even as far as that, but the notion shamed her now that he had relented like a gentleman, made it possible for her to tell Howard that Richard wasn’t going to take him, that the trip was called off.
‘I’ll never forget our first meeting,’ he said. ‘Such a memorable encounter for me, being able to help a lady in distress. I suppose it sounds very corny, to put it that way, but I have such admiration for you at having got Howard through so many difficult years. He’s a terri
fic person, and it’s been quite an experience knowing him.’
Did he mean that after this he wouldn’t be knowing Howard anymore? Yes, my dear, he said to himself, and I’m letting you know it. Nobody fucks around with Richard in the way you’re doing. Howard is coming with me whether you like it or not. He smiled, drank a little. ‘I’m prepared to help all I can. I’ll call Howard this evening, and tell him the score myself.’
The picture of Howard at sea, bare-headed in the sun, as if looking into the distance from his stance at the front of the boat, going through the supreme enjoyment of his life, cared for and cosseted by a group of men who never let him out of their sight, as if he was their sacred charge, wouldn’t leave her alone. He would love it, be absolutely in his element.
Richard walked to the telephone, by her glass on the table, even if only to be closer while lifting the receiver, and to show how sincere he could be, to get the side draught of the emotional reasoning he supposed was going through her. ‘I’ll call the skipper now. No point keeping him on the hot plate,’ and he pressed the first three numbers.
‘No,’ she called.
‘Sorry?’
‘I want to think some more.’ Two creases across her brow, a third trying to get born, complexion showing her turmoil. She finished the drink, and he poured another. Three had to be her limit. He was already hoping she wouldn’t crash on the road back, and pull Howard out of the trip that way. Besides, he’d like to see her again. And yet even if she had an accident Howard might not see it as a reason to remain. People were funny that way. He’d stay just long enough to see her buried, though what thoughts are these? It was love he wanted, not death, but at least they brought mind and therefore body back to life. All in all the day was going nicely, and he lifted his glass for a toast. ‘I wish the two of us a good few years yet.’
‘Thank you.’ She drank, needing to break the shock, because the last time she had heard such words for a toast came from her uncle, after he had forced her (she still found it hard to use the word rape) to have sex with him. The tremor stayed, till she went on: ‘You know I can’t stop him, don’t you?’
‘You can, with my help, willingly given, I might say.’
‘No, I don’t want it.’ Uncertainty had given way to pride, which conquered her fear of letting Howard go. ‘It wouldn’t be fair, but thank you, all the same.’
‘I feel very brotherly towards him’ – might as well put that to some use.
‘I know. And it’s wonderful you do. But from what you’ve told me I know I must let him go. I’d have no future if I didn’t. Never forgive myself. And I couldn’t go on living with someone who wasn’t able to forgive me. Oh, I’m sure he would, and yet how could he, really? If I was in his place I don’t think I would. But he’ll be all right?’
She had been charmingly disarmed by him giving in so easily to her concern for Howard, and now he had the pleasure, far from malicious (though not too far) of hearing her accept his plan. He felt the self-satisfying warmth of altruism. Whether she would go back on it he couldn’t say, though it was unlikely, being a woman of her word. Besides, there was more to her giving in than his persuasive eloquence, and he wondered whether he would ever know the extent of it. No one was as simple as they seemed. At least he had learned that much from Amanda. ‘I promise to guard him with my life.’
What tosh. If she believed that she’d believe anything. Nevertheless the words seemed ominous, though meaningless for coming out too easily. The notion that a promise was a promise to be kept and honoured came starkly to mind, but all he conceded for the moment was that Howard would go, and Howard would come back, and that would be the end of the matter. What more could anybody want? – Though he needed Howard on the trip, more than he cared to admit, he had never thought himself cut out to be anybody’s keeper, not even his own, come to that, having always lived happily enough within the unity of one. Why he should take on such a load at this late stage puzzled him, though if it had something to do with this oh so morally upright woman sitting oh so primly and self controlled before him he could have no regrets.
‘I can’t,’ he added with a laugh, ‘see any such sacrifice being called for. It’s not that kind of issue.’
‘I’m sure not,’ she said, ‘but he’ll be in your hands.’ She wanted to make sure, though there was no need. Trust was the essence of the affair, and she would suppress all anxieties, settle herself down to the everyday worry of waiting for a loved one to come back from an extended vacation. Her last remark called for no reply. Everything had been said, and it was time to leave. But she couldn’t make up her mind to stand up, as if the last half hour had passed in the hardest kind of work. Drinking the rest of her sherry was no help, but she had to get up, even so.
‘Maybe you’d like some coffee?’ he said when she did and, without an answer, added: ‘Let’s go into the kitchen, and I’ll make a pot strong enough to put you on the right road. I could do with some as well.’
She accepted, as he had known she would, taking his lack of an answer as a kindness, for she hadn’t thought of coffee. He flicked the kettle on and poured beans into the grinder. ‘I’m looking forward so much to getting to sea. I know Howard will like it.’
She didn’t want any more talk about what had been settled, but supposed it would be normal parlance for him now. He was no longer trying to reassure her, so no response was necessary. She liked his forthrightness, and indeed kindness, and thought she might even have fallen in love with such a man if she had never met Howard. It could easily have been, though she tried not to smile at the idea.
Perched on their stools to sip the scalding black coffee, both enjoyed a friendly and it seemed to him intimate silence as if, he thought, we’ve been man and wife for a long time. She was older but it didn’t seem by much, especially with that figure, a little fuller since they had first met, which improved the breasts he so wanted to touch. Her stockinged legs hung from the stool, as if on getting down she would run joyfully to her lover. The impulse to take her in his arms and kiss her was almost overpowering, and if she did not resist they would go upstairs. He imagined them lying naked together on the bed. He was aroused but well controlled, as he knew he had to be, at such an infamous and unlikely picture, though in previous situations with a woman he’d had to tell himself it would be impossible to get her to bed before he could devise the means to do so.
‘Good coffee,’ she smiled. ‘You knew exactly what I needed.’
‘I made a guess.’
‘I’m happy it was the right one.’
‘Not all my guesses are, as you can imagine.’
She was sorry for him, with his wife gone, and being alone in the house. Hard to know how many people in the world were happy, whatever happy meant. It was easier to say when you weren’t happy, which was the most one could expect. Any happiness you experienced was gone in a mere flicker of time, as when he must have been guessing what she wanted, while a state of not being unhappy was only good for helping the years along, in a situation you had been engineered into by events more powerful than yourself. He had said Howard would be happy from setting foot on the boat to getting off at the end, a matter of two or three weeks, so she had him to thank for that. Such tangible happiness for so long ought not to be denied anybody. Between them they had made such a thing possible for another human being, and one so near to her, which brought her close to happiness: ‘I have much to thank you for.’
He wanted to say: Save it for when we get back from the Azores – but didn’t care to alarm her, though couldn’t think why, because he expected they would turn up at the house all sound in wind and limb on their return. ‘Not really. But I have to tell you that I would do anything for Howard. And also for you.’
The last sentence turned him into the enigma all men were, because there was no reason why he should do anything for her. ‘Thank you again. I don’t see why you should, for me, though.’
His passion declined, and thank God for that, he said to himself. L
ust it may have been (it most certainly was) but there was so much depth to the feeling he could hardly believe it wasn’t love. At the moment he thought that making love to her would put the final meaning to his life, and that he would tell her so, if the opportunity came. The faintest sign, and he would see no distance between them. He would edge across the space, on his best behaviour, and draw her in as she would by then have been drawn to him.
She was pleased to know that he would do something for her alone should the occasion arise, but she didn’t trust herself to relax in the way he seemed to think was appropriate. She had done so once, but never again, even though to stand by the rule now would be no more than to punish herself. Resolution was losing all meaning, however, as his blue eyes looked so intensely at her. ‘I think I had better be going. You’ve been very good about everything.’
He stood, though she didn’t. ‘Yes’ – I think you should.
She felt weak, finally enlivened by the coffee, drowsy now, happy and relaxed as he came and held her hands. She knew at last what sort of thing he was going to come out with, but he drew back a step. ‘I just wanted you to know it,’ he said.
There was no surprise, finally. He hadn’t put anything in the coffee, or the sherry, so maybe she had come specially to hear him say such things as much as to talk about the other matter, now so unimportant. After all, she was her own woman, and had known he was alone in the house. ‘To know what?’
‘That ever since I first saw you,’ he said. ‘You must forgive me. I shouldn’t have said it. But I couldn’t bear you not knowing how I felt.’
She smiled, and put out her hands to be warmed and comforted, the pressure telling that she had done right to come to him. ‘I think I knew.’