Night Without Stars (2 page)

“Who is he?”

“A man in the navy. A lieutenant.”

“Out of the blue, as you remark.”

“I was going to write to you, and then I heard you were wounded. I thought I'd wait. Then I heard the rest.”

“So what?”

“I couldn't tell you anything or do anything until you'd got your eyesight back. I had to help you to keep going. It was all there was to do.”

“And if I didn't see again? What then?”

“I hadn't got that far.”

Hadn't she? I wondered. I lit another cigarette and thought all round it.

She said: “You
must
think me a bitch. I know that. I don't make any excuses, except what I have made. To-day's been awful. When I phoned this morning and knew you were all right I was so delighted for your sake. But I knew then that I'd got to tell you to-day. It was now or never.”

“Can I take your tray, Mr. Gordon?” said Nurse Rylands, billowing up suddenly from behind.

I stared at the grey sunlight falling across my hands.

“Listen, Rachel,” I said, when Nurse Rylands had gone, “we joined up nine months ago. Out of that we've had a week-end at your place, a week in London, and a couple of nights out in October. It's not a lot, and it's no good flogging yourself if something's happened to make it seem unimportant. It's not a good break for me, but at least I can see again; and just at present that's like the Gates of Heaven. I shall get over the rest.”

“I do feel absolutely awful,” she said.

“Thanks for sticking by me while I was—as I was. I suppose if this thing hadn't been a success you'd have felt bound to—go on sticking, eh? …”

“No. Not bound.”

“Not bound, but as good as. I think your naval bloke has done well for himself. Was he in on this?”

“More or less.”

“All the prayers there must have been for my recovery!” I paused. “Look, darling, stop mucking about with that button. You'll spoil your blouse.”

She said: “ It isn't as if I don't care for you in a way. I do, a great deal—”

“Suppose you leave the analysis for another day; we'll only get all tied up. Just at present everything's straightforward and clear. I've been jilted and I'm still on my feet. Metaphorically anyway. Why worry about the rest?”

“I think,” she said, “you're the grandest person I ever met”

“No, Rachel, if you only knew, I'm full of rage and bitterness. But I'm trying very hard to be the little gentleman. Don't elevate it beyond that. I'll see you again?”

“Of course—if you want to.”

“I want to.”

The tennis players had stopped and were doing something at the net.

“How long have you got to stay in here now?”

“A fortnight maybe. Then I'm free to go out into the brave new world. I'd like to meet your lieutenant. Perhaps we could get together and have a dinner or something.”

“Of course. If you want that. You know how I feel.”

“Good. That's settled, then. Now tell me about London. I haven't seen it for so long.”

Later when she left we kissed like old friends and I watched her walk into the encircling fog. It was right that she should go that way, even though later I should have to write and say I'd changed my mind and that it would be better if we didn't meet again after all.

I'd been done out of my grand renunciation and now must make do with a small. Obviously it was best to keep her from knowing how little I could see. There was no point in our both being unhappy about it.

I went back to work. Somewhere about this time the war ended, and those who felt like it danced in the streets. I was too preoccupied forgetting Rachel and making a little daylight go a long way.

The eye improved a lot, and it was surprising how much I got around to.

Driving a car was a bit of an ordeal from the beginning, because, apart from the bad vision, it isn't easy to judge distances with one eye. But golf was quite possible, and I did a lot of walking. My eyes showed no signs of injury (except that the good one kept getting bloodshot) and this fooled most people into thinking I could see as well as they could.

Certain things had to be avoided. The cinema was out altogether, and bright lights hurt. I could read well enough, but not for long periods; and for the office work I found a gem of a girl called Marigold who was only fifteen and read slowly and with the precision of a parson. I was inclined to drop things, and in the end I never accepted a cup and saucer by hand if I could avoid it. Perspective was difficult, as it was bound to be, and there were good days and bad.

The family firm welcomed me back all right. Parker was in the Far East, but Hampden was still bending his grey head over the torts, and Cousin Lewis had managed to go on getting deferments until they were no longer necessary. There was plenty for me to do, and I put in as much work as I could at the courts, since Marigold could help me to memorise the details, and it saved a lot of reading.

The first Christmas of peace I spent with my sister in Oxford. Caroline is nine years older than I am and nearly as tall. She'd married a fellow of St. Peter's, and was a theosophist and a vegetarian. People said she ought to have been the lawyer. She always had the effect of making me feel about fourteen and slightly sheepish.

She said: “ Well, Giles, it's nice to have you at our table again. I'm glad you've recovered so well. We were so anxious for a time, weren't we, Hugh?”

“We phoned every night,” said Hugh. “They passed on our messages?”

“Yes.”

“Let's see, d'you take soda or water? I forget.”

“Soda, please.”

“What exactly did they do?”

I knew Hugh's interest in operations, his own and other people's. I said: “ Took an X-ray first, of course. Next day they stuck an electro-magnet round my head like a steel halo, so that I was the centre of a magnetic field. Then they pointed metal rods or something at my eye. After a bit of messing about something moved in my eye, and I said ‘ Ugh!' and they said, ‘There it is.' Then apparently they manoeuvred it round till it came into a favourable position—then they cut the eye and took out a bit of steel from Krupps.”

After a minute Caroline said: “Yet you can see perfectly well with it now?”

“Not perfectly well. I get along.”

Hugh brought the drink. “I shouldn't have known there was anything wrong at all.”

“That's what everyone says.”

Caroline said: “Of course, Giles always has walked and moved as if he'd got an inward preoccupation and wasn't really concerned with what he was doing at any particular moment. I used to try to cure him of it, make him more practical.”

“My dear Carrie, I'm intensely practical, always have been. Look how well I've settled back into the family firm.” She sipped her barley water. “ I'll give you credit for that. I was

afraid—well, after four years away.…”
I said to tease: “ Did you expect me to go back to Paris?”
“No, dear.… But one never knows, does one? Things have been

very difficult for you lately.”
I didn't answer. She had never met Rachel, so there was nothing

to be gained from discussing it.
Hugh said: “ You must be lost in that big old house. Can you

get staff?”
“I'm thinking of selling it and taking a small flat somewhere in

the West End. It'll save the journey and I shall be handy for concerts

and things. That's if Caroline has no objection.”
“I think you're very wise,” she said. “ I never see any advantage

in clinging to things for their sentimental value.”
I looked at the table. “ One thing I'm always glad about when

I come here, and that's that Hugh isn't a vegetarian as well.”
“I only wish he were! He'd be so much healthier.”
Hugh looked apologetic but nickered a slow eyelid. “
Ad omnem

libidinem projectus homo.
A man abandoned to every lust.”

It wasn't long after this that things began to go back a bit. Several days the eye looked red and inflamed and it watered a good deal, and I couldn't stick lights at all. So I went round to see Halliday who'd done the job. He was non-committal and grunted at me as he put his mirror thing back on the table.

“Hm. Yes. The Keratome incision has caused a scar which isn't quite as satisfactory as it might be. However, I shouldn't worry about it. Your colour values are all right now, aren't they?”

“Oh, yes.”

“No headaches?”

“No headaches.”

“I'll change your glasses and give you a little protection against the light. In the meantime take things easily. Plenty of fresh air and not too much hard work. Try to consider yourself convalescent still.”

“I'll try.”

Presently I heard Rachel was married and had gone to live in Portsmouth. I hadn't seen her since, but I thought it safe enough to relax now and sent her some Georgian silver as a wedding present. Probably if I had been able I should have salved my pains by finding some other girl to go about with, but that didn't seem to make sense in the circumstances. I got to dining out and playing cards after. For the first time in my life I began to appreciate bridge and to take an interest in poker. Then one day I woke up to the fact that I could see definitely less than a week ago.

At first I put it down to the weather; but after a bit of careful testing I realised that the rain wasn't to blame for this.

I took a taxi and drove round in a panic to see Halliday.

As was to be expected I had to wait half the morning until he could fit me in between his appointments. He grunted and nodded through what I had to say and then took me in and did the same sort of things he had done three months ago.

When he'd switched off the last light and made all the necessary notes on his card index he looked at me and said:

“Of course you're quite right, Mr. Gordon. Your sight has deteriorated since February. The cause, as I told you, is the scar of the earlier operation, which is contracting, and pulling the pupil up slightly towards the top of the eye. Normally, this would not happen, but for some reason that we don't know, perhaps because of the foreign body we had to take out of the eye, the scar became entangled and has been drawn up.” He granted and turned to make another note. “It's very disappointing, because it is reducing the value of the eye to you. I can only give you the advice I gave you before. Don't worry, take things easily. You're able to live a fairly normal life at present, aren't you, and it may never get any worse.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that I didn't like.

“Or it may?”

“There's really no reason why it should.”

“And if it does?”

He grunted again and shut his drawer. “If the pupil gets further drawn up it will naturally restrict sight further and it would be necessary to adapt your life accordingly.”

“Can't operate again?”

“I should be afraid to with an eye in that condition. But why meet troubles before they come?”

I got up, feeling slightly sick, and looked for my hat. He passed it.

“Thanks,” I said. “ I'll keep you up to date.”

He'd evidently expected the thing to be rapid because when I went again in six months he showed no surprise. In the meantime I got about as usual.

I sold the family house in the end and found a smallish flat in Portland Place which suited a lot better. There were a few disadvantages, of course. I'd thought of pottering about with music again and it was a wrench to sell the piano, but I couldn't imagine myself doing much with it in the flat. Anyway I was in the centre of things.

Spare evenings now were mostly spent at the club, and I began to make money at poker. I gave up golf, said it was a strain, and nobody suspected the truth. This slow loss of sight was quite different from the first go; all sorts of things helped: hearing, smell, touch.

I developed a low cunning too. It became a sort of game, a matter of pride not to get caught out. I knew where everything was in the office, had my own table at the club. When at last it got so that I couldn't read small print I depended more than ever on Marigold, and kept other people out of my office while the first business of the day was gone through.

Then after a time it wasn't a game any more but deadly earnest. I thought I'd go on as long as I could. After that it was anybody's guess. I hated the thought of becoming helpless, an object of Sympathy. And I'd had one taste of complete darkness. I couldn't seem to see myself there again. But what was there to do about it?

One day I saw old Hampden and Cousin Lewis, and told them I was giving up. I think by now they suspected a good bit because they didn't jib much but only argued pacifically over the use of the leisure I was going to take and the amount of the allowance they were to make me. Cousin Lewis said he thought a sea-trip would put me right, and old Hampden advised salmon-fishing, but I left them saying I'd let them know later on where to send the money.

I didn't go to see Caroline and Hugh but dropped them a letter. It saved trouble. At that point it was hard to decide where to go, except that I'd a vague hankering to sit in the sun and let things slide. Then I thought of the Wintertons.

The Wintertons had reached England with other refugees from the South of France in 1940. Because they knew my father they came in to our office and I had been able to help them with credits and recommendations, and also to get a passage to America in the following year. When the war was over they went back to their villa in Beaulieu near Monte Carlo, and since then had sent me three letters asking me out.

It seemed worth trying. I had memories of hot sun and mountains and bathing in the Mediterranean when I was a kid. Too many of these precious months had drifted away in offices and the courts and among the fogs that had nothing to do with my eyesight. I wanted the sun.