i 51ddca29df3edad1 (8 page)

Bringing him out of sleep, pushing the sweat from his pores, bringing groans and remembered moans of ecstasy from him.

He had been married for eighteen years and he knew now that compared with her he was as inexperienced as a virgin boy. He felt ravished, raped. She was wild, savage, almost demented at times. Such intensity and passion coming from such a small frame was unbelievable; and more unbelievable still when he thought of her as a young girl. But once it was over he never thought of her as a young girl again.

He lay still on the top of the bed, nothing moving but his bare chest.

He wasn't at peace as was the case after he had been with Esther; every nerve end in his body seemed frayed, yet he had a strange sense of exhilaration and achievement. But he had achieved nothing; the achieving was hers. He wasn't aware how long he lay unmoving, but when he turned his head and looked at her he expected to find, like Esther, she But instead, her eyes were wide, laughing, waiting. She said softly to him, "Do you believe me now?" He did not answer but made a questioning movement with his head, and she replied, "That I know everything." He still did not answer her, but as he looked at her he thought. Yes, she certainly does. And where had she learned it? She looked nineteen, she said she was twenty-four, and she had the knowledge of an old whore mistress. The last thought brought him up on his elbow to stare down at her, and it was as if he was reading the words written on her naked body: She was a tart. A little prostitute, that's what she was.

He got off the bed and dressed with his back to her, pulling on his clothes with jerky movements. When he made for the door she said to him, "Some people are never satisfied." He turned and looked at her but could find nothing to say. As he went to close the door behind him she said, "I'll be seeing you." It sounded like a threat.

He pulled on his shoes, got into his coat, wound his scarf around his neck, took up his hat and let himself out into the street. It was still snowing heavily, and he stood for a moment bemused. He must have been stark, staring mad.

He entered the long cut, lifting his feet high with each step, and when he reached the end of it where the wind had drifted the snow to the side and left a small clear space he stood for a minute leaning his back against the wall. What had he let himself in for? This is what happened when men went abroad. Peter Thompson had told him why Arthur Rice went off on his lone tour at least once a year. It could happen abroad and no consequences. But this had happened in Fellburn, in the town where he was known by practically everyone, where he was known as a churchman, for the simple reason that he sang in the choir, and, as it happened, with a young girl in his firm, a girl he'd see every day in the week, even if it was only her head through the glass partition of the pool. God! What had he done? He must have been raving, barmy.

He hadn't been all that drunk, he had known what he was doing. Or had he? He'd never had so much whisky at one go before. And on top of all that sherry. He rubbed his hand over his snow-covered tace. it was no use maKing excuses ror nimseir, it was done, ana he.

Harry Blenheim, had done it. Or had he? He was feeling again her bouncing, struggling bare body. But it didn't tie up with the everyday picture of her, small, neat and soft. Yet he'd heard of women like her; he had heard body-hungry men easing themselves with stories of loving amazons. But she hadn't been just one amazon, she had been half-a-dozen. How long was he there altogether? He pushed his coat sleeve up to peer at his watch, then realised with deep dismay that he had left it in the bedroom. The strap had caught at her skin and he had dragged it off his wrist and thrown it on the side table. It was a gold watch with a gold link strap and had been Esther's present to him on their seventeenth wedding anniversary and had an inscription inside to that effect. God 1 What was he going to do now? He'd have to go back. He turned, but didn't go immediately down the cut; he had to will his body to move.

He had just reached the end of the cut when he saw a woman standing by the door he was making for. She was banging on it as she kicked the snow from her feet. When the door opened he caught a blurred glimpse of the girl. Within a second the door was closed.

That settled that. He wasn't going in there and have to face the mother; no, not if he never got the watch.

When he again reached the end of the cut he stopped once more, his thoughts racing now. How was he going to face them at home, Esther and Gail? Gail? It would be harder to face Gail.

"You all right, mister?" The man coming out of the cut was looking into his face, and he pulled himself from the wall and said, "Yes, thank you. Just a little exhausted. It's heavy going."

"You're telling me ... Far to go?"

"Holt Avenue." They were plodding along side by side now.

"Oh, that's yon side, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's some way. But I'll cut across the Market and keep to the main road. That should ease things."

"That's going out of your-way," said the man.

"Why don't you cut up Barrack Road. Look, we're coming to it. You cut up there; that'll take off the Market and bring you out in Champlion Place."

"Yes," said the man; 'it'll cut a good third off. "

"That's very helpful." Harry nodded at him.

"Thanks, I'll try it."

They parted at the corner of the next street, and the going here wasn't so bad as the people had attempted to clear the snow from the pathways.

But when he came out into Champlion Place it was almost knee high again. As he crossed the Square his knees almost buckled under him.

From the Square he cut up side street after side street; then of a sudden he realised he was walking down Baker Street. This was where Janet lived. In the ordinary way he would have approached his home from the other direction. So deep was the snow here that he had to support himself with one hand against the wall, and when he found his hand flat against a door he made out the number seventeen. Janet lived at twenty-three, three doors away. He would knock and go in and rest for a while. It would appear quite natural. He could say he had taken a short cut that had turned out to be the long way round. He was frozen right to the bone. When he had left the other house he felt that he would never be cold again, but now he was shivering, and he knew that it wasn't only with the cold but with the thought of entering his own home. He was aware that he was still slightly drunk and if he went in like this Esther would be sure to smell it from him; there were no secret Rippon breath formulae for him.

Within a few seconds of his knocking on the door of number twenty-three it was opened, and Robbie stood there, silent for a moment, until recognizing the figure. Then he exclaimed loudly, "Good lord 1 Mr.

Blenheim. Come in, come in." He put out his hand and almost dragged him over the threshold, exclaiming loudly, "Lor! you are in a state ..

Mami Mami' he called over his shoulder then went on, " Let me get your coat off; it's sodden. You're all sodden. "

Some whimsical part of Harry endorsed this. Yes, he was sodden both inside and out.

"Why, Harry I' Janet Dunn was standing at the end of the passage. The name Harry sounded natural on her lips, yet she never used it in his house. She came forward holding out her hands, saying, " How did you come down this way? Is anything

"Let him thaw out and then he'll tell you," said Robbie i bluntly.

"Let's get him near the fire." He spoke as if Harry was ) unconscious, and he could have been for he felt powerless to ;

open his mouth. They went into the living-room, one each side of him, and lowered him into a chair before the open fire.

Harry now looked up at Janet. He wanted to explain to her but still found it impossible. But when she put her hand on his brow and said,

"You are hot, but you're shivering. You've got a chill. Bring a drop of whisky, Robbie," he made an effort and protested in a croaking voice, "No, no 1 A cup of tea please. That's all, a cup of tea, or ...

or if you have c ... coffee."

"Yes, yes, certainly. You'll have it in a second." When she left the room Robbie, dropping on his hunkers before Harry, : asked quietly, "You been out in this long?"

"An hour I think. No, longer. What time is it?"

*A quarter to seven. "

"No I' He sat up in the chair.

"As late as that? I ... I should be home, they'll be worrying."

"You haven't been home?"

"No. No. There was a party at the office." He leant back in the chair again.

"Some of the staff had a job getting back, I ... I helped them." And how, he thought. , Straightening himself up, Robbie said, "Well, another half- hour isn't going to make much difference; you're not fit to go <. out again yet."

He stood looking down at him. An office party. That's why he stank of whisky. He had been under the impression that he didn't drink.

Perhaps that was only when in the house. Madam Blenheim being a strict tee totaller

"What you want," he said now, 'is something to eat; it'll steady you.

"

"Oh no, not' Harry shook his head, but Robbie insisted, saying, " Never mind no, no; its packing you want inside you I'd say. We were just about to have something, anyway. " .;

As his mother came through the doorway with a cup of ; coffee in her hand he said, "It's something to eat he wants, what do you say?" | "Yes, indeed," said Janet.

"That's the thing. So drink this, then -j sit up; it's all ready."

Harry took a long drink of the scalding liquid, then muttered,

'ino, janer; i m not going to trou ole you any further. "

"Trouble!" Her voice was high.

"We're only too pleased to have company. And what better day than on the queen of the sabbath."

He looked up at her enquiringly for a moment. Then lowering his head he said softly, "Oh dear me, I forgot it was Friday, Janet."

"All the better," she said.

"We couldn't have wished for better company, so come on, drink that coffee up and we'll get started."

She returned to the kitchen and brought in a large covered dish, which she placed in the middle of the table set to the side of the room. The table was covered with a white cloth and at each end was a candle in a tall holder.

He watched her lighting the candles and heard her mutter something as she did so. Then she turned to him, smiling, and said, "They should have been lit at sunset but that would have been at half past three.

Do you remember looking through the window when you were a lad and Dad going to the door to bring you in and you flying down the backyard as if the devil was after you? "

He shook his head and she laughed, "Well, you did." Then she motioned him to the table, and he rose slowly and took his seat.

Robbie was already standing at one end of the table. He had a bottle of wine, in his hand and began to pour some in a glass while unselfconsciously saying, "Blessed art thou 0 Lord, our God King of the Uni-verse, who created the fruit of the wine." Then he sipped it and poured out another two glasses. Next he lifted the white napkin that was covering a large object to reveal a loaf of plaited bread.

Again he repeated the words he had said before, but adding how, "Who bringeth forth bread from the earth." Then nodding impishly at Harry, he added, "All in English for your benefit. Geordie English. Funny that, but me yiddish isn't in Geordie, at least I don't think it is."

Janet and he now laughed together. Then he broke the bread, dipped it into wine and handed it to Harry, saying, "It's very good chollah." }

"Thank you." Harry put the bread on his plate, then looked at the wine glass in his hand. From the smell of the contents

lln-t^nOli. tCU Llll that was already in his stomach.

When Janet lifted the lid from the dish in the centre of the table to disclose what looked like a stew and which gave off a strong aroma of herbs, she said, "You do like fish. Harry, don't you? So you should like this, it's what we call cholent."

"It's got everything in but the pan scrub," said Robbie, laughing, 'and it's guaranteed to stick to your ribs. "

Harry smiled but said nothing; he was doing his utmost to quell the rising swell of sickness, but when Janet placed the plate of steaming chopped fish and vegetables before him it was more than he could stand.

His head down, his hand to his mouth, he stumbled to his feet, muttering, "Sorry, sorry, bathroom."

"This way." Robbie had him by the arm, and when they got into the small kitchen, Harry, still pressing on his mouth, groaned,

"Lavatory."

"That's outside, man," said Robbie brusquely.

"Get it up in the sink here. Come on."

Harry was now past protest and, leaning over the sink, he vomited. A strong smell of whisky and dead sherry and the stodgy meat pudding he'd had for his lunch in a restaurant in town erupted.

A few minutes later, when Robbie handed him a towel he wiped his mouth; then putting his forearms on the draining board he rested his head on them.

"Here." Robbie pushed a plain kitchen chair towards him and said quietly, "Sit down."

He sat down; then looking up at the young man he stared at him for a moment in silence before saying, "I'm so sorry, Robbie."

"What's to be sorry for? You've been sick, and no wonder, the way you came in. I'll tell you something." He put his head down to Harry and whispered.

"Gin does the same for me. Two glasses and I'm flat. She doesn't know." He nodded towards the kitchen.

"She always thinks it's something she's cooked' He was grinning now, but Harry couldn't grin back. Getting to his feet, he said, " If you don't mind, Robbie, I'll make my way home. "

"Yes, yes, of course. And I'll come along of you."

1NU, IWy yULi WU11 L. "Well, you might as well stop talking because I'm comin'. I won't go in, don't worry, but I'm going to see you there. I don't want them to find you lying in the gutter stiff the morrow mornin'."

At this moment Harry thought he wouldn't mind being found in the gutter stiff tomorrow morning.