Camomile Lawn (19 page)

‘Go on,’ said Hamish, driving steadily, ‘tell me, do.’

Helena paused in agreeable recollection. Then: ‘I undressed and went to bed. I forgot Monika had changed all our bedrooms. I found myself in bed with Max, as though we were in London. When I realized my mistake I was too tipsy to care and presently who should join us but Richard, scrambling in on my other side.’

‘A threesome?’

‘My dear boy, he had his leg, it was—’ Helena paused in recollection.

‘His artificial leg? What did you do?’

‘Threw it out. Threw it out of the window. I thought he thought I was Monika.’

‘And then?’

‘Max was furious, told me to go and fetch it. I didn’t, of course. I moved in to sleep with Monika. In the morning those two men were asleep in that bed in perfect friendship. I always say one can never know what men will do next.’

‘Perhaps they were tired.’

‘Drunk, we were all drunk. After today,’ said Helena thoughtfully, ‘they will be at it again.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Side by side in a bed—of clay this time. You won’t forget I want to buy flowers, will you, dear?’

‘No,’ said Hamish, treading on the accelerator.

B
RIAN PORTMADOC, POSTED TO
an anti-aircraft battery in London, telephoned Calypso, inviting her to dinner.

‘I’d love to as long as you don’t keep me up too late.’

‘I won’t do that.’

‘I am working. They have taken me back in the job I was in before I married.’

‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘Top secret,’ Calypso said. ‘I’m not allowed to tell you what I do. I don’t understand the half of it.’

‘Shall I fetch you at your office?’

‘Not allowed to tell you where I work. Come to my house.’

Brian arrived bearing flowers.

‘How beautiful. How kind.’ Calypso held the flowers to her nose and looked at Brian.

‘You look beautiful.’ He blushed.

‘Good,’ said Calypso. ‘Where are you taking me to dinner?’

‘Where would you like to go?’

She thought this tiresome. He should choose a place he could afford, he should say as Hector would, ‘We are going to the Savoy or Lyons Corner House.’ How could she tell how much money he could afford? Men all looked alike in uniform.

‘We could try Soho,’ she said. Brian looked grateful. The flowers had been expensive. He found a taxi.

‘Hector has hidden his car in the country,’ she said, ‘otherwise I would drive you. It eats petrol.’

‘What is it, a Rolls?’

‘Near enough. He doesn’t want it bombed, it’s his dearest possession.’

‘What about you?’

‘I am not his possession. I am his wife.’ Brian did not know what to say to this.

Difficulty in finding a table in the first restaurant they tried humiliated him and he felt worse when Calypso was effusively greeted at the second and led to a corner table, made much of. She was known and pampered. She knew several other diners. A Frenchman came and talked in French which Brian did not understand until he kissed her hand on departure, saying,
‘Alors, à demain.’
Other men came up to her during the meal. Brian felt inadequate, that she would prefer to be with someone else, someone smarter, more glamorous.

‘Do they all tell you how beautiful you are?’ he ventured.

‘Some do. I know I am beautiful, now
you
tell me something I don’t know. Tell me about insurance.’

‘You are laughing at me.’ Brian gulped some wine. ‘I would insure every hair of your head,’ he said. ‘I think it is what they call ash blonde.’

Calypso nodded.

‘I would insure your blue eyes and long black lashes.’

‘They are real,’ she said encouragingly.

‘I would insure your nose, your mouth, your teeth, your ears.’

‘Good, good. What about my body?’

Brian drank a full glass of wine. The bottle was now empty. ‘I don’t know about your body,’ he muttered, ‘I can’t—’

‘We shall have to correct that. Shall we go? Can you take me home?’

As they left the restaurant she said to the Frenchman, ‘See you tomorrow’ and ‘Let’s meet on Thursday week’ to two men dining together. Brian took her hand and held it in the taxi. He was afraid to kiss her. When they reached her house she said, ‘I must give my dog a run, then you will come in for a nightcap.’ The dog jumped with joy when it saw Calypso, then ran excitedly up and down the pavement. ‘Hurry up,’ she said, ‘don’t take all night. He came from the Highlands, shouldn’t really be in London. Do you notice there are no dogs nowadays, no children, either?’ She held Brian’s hand like a mother as she watched the dog lift its leg, sniff the railings, trot back wagging, look up at her with beady eyes. ‘I hide him under my desk in my office,’ she said. ‘My boss pretends not to know.’

Brian stood beside her rather drunk, uncertain what to do next.

‘Come on in then. Let’s correct your ignorance,’ she said.

In her bed, his face buried in her hair, Brian said, ‘I love you. I love you.’

‘I don’t know what love is.’ She rocked him in her arms. ‘I like this, though, you are nice. You don’t really love me.’

‘I do. If you don’t know what love is how can you be sure I don’t love you?’

‘You have a point. But it won’t last, you can’t insure it. You can’t insure an emotion, it’s a pleasure like eating or drinking.’

‘It will last with me.’

‘That’s your affair. I can’t help it, can I? Now you should get back to your gun and I must get some sleep.’

She watched him as he dressed, putting on his uniform, doing up his buttons.

‘Shall I see you again?’ He stood by her bed.

‘I expect so. Telephone. Can you let yourself out?’

She listened as he went downstairs, waited until she heard the front door slam. In his basket the little dog whimpered.

‘Oh, Fling,’ she said, ‘I am so lonely.’ The dog jumped up on the bed. She lay face down, trying to sleep, then reached out and switched on her radio, twiddling the knobs. Over the air came ghostly voices speaking in German, French and English. She wondered what the hell was going on in the world. What was the time in Egypt, where Oliver was supposed to be? What was Hector doing, and where? She had had no letter for so long and only a B.F.O. address to write to. What could she write about? He would hardly be glad to hear she had slept with Brian Portmadoc and intended sleeping with his French friend. He would get no pleasure on hearing that she quite often slept with Tony when he was not on duty at his fire station. Were most grass widows faithful, were girl friends true? She could write to him, she thought, about her visit to Cornwall and the carryings-on of the older generation, but then she could not, she thought, since Helena and Hector were of much the same age.

She slept and dreamed uneasy dreams which turned to nightmare. She was running through the streets of a town she did not know to escape she knew not what. Her legs would not move, her breath came in gasps, she tried to wake for she knew she was asleep and if she could wake she could tell Hector of her fear. She reached out her hand to wake him, her hand pushing into his hair. Then she screamed, for she felt not his warm cock but something cold and wet. Her terror was so great that she clutched at the hairy thing, which was wet and cold, and it yelped with pain for she squeezed Fling’s nose instead of Hector. Instead of Hector to wake her from nightmare there was a frightened little dog.

‘Oh,’ she said, consoling Fling. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. Oh, Fling, my Highland Fling boy, I feel sick.’ Sweating and greasy she got up and went downstairs to make tea. When she had drunk it she was very sick indeed and felt so faint she had to lie on the bed until she felt better.

In the morning she telephoned Polly.

‘Polly, I haven’t seen you since I went to Cornwall.’

‘How were they all? Come to supper and tell me about it. Come tonight.’

‘I can’t come tonight, I’m going out with a Frog friend of Hector’s. What about tomorrow, if I’m well enough?’

‘Are you ill?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve eaten something, I feel sick and nearly fainted just now. Come to think of it, I was sick in Cornwall when they fired the gun. I thought it was just fright. It must be some bug I’ve picked up.’

‘Have you missed the curse?’

‘I’m bad at counting.’

‘Well, count. I am late for my office. You for yours too, for that matter.’

‘I must look at my diary.’

‘See you tomorrow. Goodbye.’

‘Goodness.’ Calypso looked at her diary. ‘Goodness,’ she murmured, looking at the small pages, ‘goodness gracious me. I meant it. But it seemed a sort of joke,’ she muttered as she went to clean her teeth, which made her sick again. She telephoned her office and asked leave for the day as she felt ill.

‘Seen a doctor?’ said her boss briskly.

‘Just going to make an appointment.’

‘Well, mind you try and get here tomorrow, you know how busy we are. You’re the only one who knows that file on—’

‘I know, I know. I’ll be there.’

‘And don’t let me catch you lunching in the Écu de France with some Frog.’

‘Is that where you’re lunching?’

‘No. I shall be at my club.’

Calypso telephoned Hector’s doctor for an appointment. Then thoughtfully she dialled again: Helena’s number. Max answered.

‘Listen, can you give me lunch today? Dutch, if you’re feeling poor. I’m in need of moral support.’

‘Where would you like to meet?’

‘Écu de France.’

‘It’ll have to be Dutch.’

When she left the doctor she took Fling to Hyde Park, walking on the grass, watching him run. Men and women in uniform walked briskly along the asphalt paths, barrage balloons rocked at anchor. Crossing Mayfair she found a post office, found a form. She wrote Hector’s name and rank and his alien secret address. She wrote ‘Hamish en route Calypso’ and handed it to the clerk.

‘Better write in English,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Looks like code. Is Calypso a ship?’

‘No, Calypso is my name.’

‘Better put your surname, then.’

The message ‘Hamish on the way Calypso Grant’ looked chilly. She tore up the form. ‘He’s not a trunk,’ she said to the clerk behind the desk. ‘I will write.’

‘Please yourself,’ he said. Then, finding Calypso pretty, smiled.

She went out into the street. ‘It’s a commercial undertaking,’ she said to herself. ‘I shall have to put it in writing.’

Early for her lunch appointment, she strolled through the streets, noting here a gap and there a gap where bombs had struck. Nobody stood to stare or paused as they went by. Calypso paced slowly, with Fling on his lead trotting sedately. At the Écu de France she said to Max: ‘I’m feeling generous, I’ll stand you lunch.’

‘Ta very much.’ He switched his gaze to the more expensive dishes on the menu. ‘What are you celebrating?’

‘A private joke.’

‘May I hear it?’

‘Sometime, perhaps. What do you think is the best thing to eat?’

They discussed, chose, gave their order.

‘Did you tell Helena you were lunching with me?’

‘She is out shopping.’

‘Who taught you to say “ta”?’

‘Isn’t it snob?’

‘Who taught you, come on Max, tell me.’

‘A young woman I know.’

‘You are being unfaithful to Helena.’

‘And to Monika. I am not a faithful man just as you are not a faithful woman.’

Calypso grinned. ‘I went to bed with you, Max, in a purely exploratory fashion. I wanted to find out whether my aunt is on to a good thing, whether you will break her heart.’

‘Dear Calypso, would it be too much to ask you to mind your own business?’

‘Promise you won’t hurt her? Don’t let her find out you are sleeping around. We are all very fond of her and Uncle Richard. They are part of our childhood.’

‘“Our” meaning you, Polly, Oliver, Walter, Sophy and those twins?’

‘Yes.’

‘I will not hurt her, I am a sensitive man. Under that British phlegm your aunt is also sensitive.’

‘Is she really?’ Calypso was thoughtful. ‘I would never have known it.’

‘There is a lot you do not know, for instance your Hector.’

‘What about Hector?’ Calypso was instantly on the defensive.

‘Your Hector is sensitive.’

Calypso laughed. ‘Oh, come on! Hector isn’t sensitive, he’s a great big hunting, shooting, aggressive politician.’

‘And oh so rich.’

‘That’s why I married him, for his money and in exchange—’

‘Yes?’

‘In exchange he has a pretty wife.’ Wild horses, Calypso thought, feeling the blood rush to her face, wild horses will not make me tell Aunt Helena’s lover that I am bearing Hector’s child. I am keeping my promise, and he’s got to be the first to know. Why should I tell Max, who isn’t great shakes in bed anyway, one single thing about Hector’s baby? Hector’s baby, she thought, not mine, why should it be mine when I don’t even like children, what on earth shall I do when I’ve got it?

She remembered the chugging train and Hector’s voice telling her ‘You must have Catherine’ and again his voice saying curtly, ‘She’s lame’. The rocking movement of a lame person would lull the baby as she carried it.

‘May I come back to your house this afternoon?’ Max liked copulating in the afternoon before a rehearsal.

‘Sorry, no, I have to write letters. Why not Helena, why not the girl who says “Ta”?’

‘Your voice is cruel, your letters can wait.’ Max was persuasive.

‘How could you know? Will you ask for the bill, please, Max.’

He signalled to the waiter while Calypso fished in her bag for money.

‘Did you not enjoy our afternoon together?’

‘It was all right, but I think I shall stick to your concerts for Helena’s sake.’

‘You are very considerate suddenly.’ He looked at the bill, which the waiter had put by him folded on a plate.

‘Today is a day to be considerate,’ she said gravely, as she put money on the bill.

‘Shall you perhaps reconsider?’

‘I think not. Now,’ she exclaimed lightly, ‘thank you for your company. Give my love to Helena, see you soon, goodbye.’ But as she gathered up her bag a man who had been sitting at another table came across the restaurant. He excused himself to Calypso, drew up a chair, leant across the table and talked to Max in German.