Short of Glory (50 page)

‘Tomorrow morning.’

She turned her face away. At one moment she looked upset, at another stonily determined. ‘I don’t mind going,’ he added, ‘except for you. It’s only you.’

She did not look at him. ‘What about Snap? Who’s going to look after him?’

‘I haven’t thought about that.’

‘I suppose I could have him. I haven’t got a dog.’

‘Yes, yes. Shall I bring him round?’

‘I’ll collect him when you’ve gone.’

He swallowed. ‘You’d rather I didn’t stay the night, then?’

She looked at him. ‘Yes, I’d rather you didn’t.’

He felt like asking her to go with him but he knew she wouldn’t. His request would not be serious. He could not believe he really wanted her yet his heart beat faster and when he tried to
speak he had to swallow again. ‘What’s happened?’

‘You’re leaving.’

‘I wasn’t always leaving.’

‘You were never really here. I thought you were at first but you weren’t. You were always neutral. You can’t be neutral here.’

He grabbed her by both arms. ‘I was never neutral. I tried to give this place a chance. I was never neutral about you. You know that.’

She neither resisted nor yielded. ‘It seemed neutral to me.’

He was aware of gripping her too tightly and had to stop himself from shaking her. ‘Look, all along I’ve tried to be honest. I do have feelings, more than I want. I feel for you. But
feelings have limits and they change and so I keep trying to be honest, that’s all. I have to know what I really feel. I can’t just ignore myself.’

‘It’s not enough.’ She was calm and implacable. He let go of her.

His desires narrowed to the single one of keeping her talking. ‘Will you go back to Jim?’

She looked sullen and annoyed as she turned towards her car. ‘It’s not like that. You don’t understand.’

‘Tell me what it is like, then.’

‘It’s not what you think.’ She sighed and looked away again. ‘Jim and I are friends. We were before and we still are. The rest – it’s not everything.
Can’t you understand that?’

‘Did you go on sleeping with him?’ He hated himself for asking.

Her grey eyes met his. ‘You don’t understand at all, do you? You never have.’ She opened the car door. ‘I must go, I’m late for Belinda.’

He grabbed her arm again and pulled her towards him. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘Please let me go.’

She drove off with unnecessary revving and untimely gear-changes, which he could not help observing. As he climbed slowly into the bakkie Beauty waved from the living-room window. Immediately
and unthinkingly he smiled and waved back.

He had to spend some hours at the police station going over all he knew about Stanley. They told him that Jim had gone off duty. He thought all the time of Joanna. It was dark
when he returned to the house. The tape around the cordoned-off area showed white in the moonlight. Debris had been pushed to one side of the drive and a start had been made on clearing the remains
of Sarah’s quarters. A note from Chatsworth said that he had gone out and would be back later. He too had been interviewed. Snap had been fed and was locked in the kitchen.

There was electricity but not all the lights worked and there was still no telephone. Despite the broken windows the air in the house was heavy with dust from the rubble outside. He opened all
the doors. Plaster was cracked, an outhouse wall bulged, a lavatory door was blown off, and there was a hole in the kitchen roof. He walked from room to silent room, glad to be alone. He allowed
himself to think of nothing but what he would pack and what leave to be sent on. His heavy baggage would be returned unused. Practical thoughts, such as whether he’d be able to stay in the
same flat in London and when to ring his mother, washed to and fro in his mind with a lot of flotsam – that it was lucky for Arthur Whelk that his possessions had gone before the blast, that
Sarah’s daughter would now be free to marry her unsuitable man, that Snap would find Joanna’s garden small and lacking in rats.

At the top of the stairs the rape-gate hung lop-sidedly on its bottom hinge. It opened and closed but swayed precariously. It could no longer be rattled in the mornings.

The light in his bedroom did not work but that on the landing did. It was whilst he was packing his big suitcase in semi-darkness that he heard footsteps on the stairs. He started, then saw that
it was Sandy. She stopped the other side of the rape-gate.

‘All the doors were open so I walked in. It’s awfully spooky, isn’t it? I was beginning to wish I hadn’t. May I come in?’ She walked forward hesitantly.
‘I’m a little drunk, so don’t ask. You know what it does to my walking but that’s the only thing. I’ve come to see you to say bye-bye.’ She sat heavily on the
bed.

Now that there was someone with him it was comforting not to be alone. ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘In a minute. Don’t stop packing. I’ll watch. I just thought you might like company.’

He smiled. ‘You were right.’

She sat silently for a short while then crossed her legs and put her hands around her knee, leaning forward slightly. She wore a jumper and a pleated skirt. ‘How is it with
Joanna?’

‘It isn’t any more.’

‘Are you upset?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she?’

‘I think so.’

‘Of course she is.’ She watched for a few moments more. ‘Will you kiss me?’

He stopped what he was doing. She smiled a little sadly, though it was hard to see her features clearly. Now that she had asked he wanted to. He sat on the bed next to her and she uncrossed her
legs with a susurration of nylon. ‘What I really mean is will you make love to me?’ she said.

A few minutes before he would not have believed he could make love with anyone other than Joanna but now he felt a sudden overwhelming comfort and pleasure in being wanted, however
superficially. They undressed each other hurriedly. She laughed as he fumbled with the clip on her skirt. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this. It’s been
so long.’

‘Very long?’

‘I’m married, don’t forget. It’s almost like being celibate. You’d’ve found out if you’d succumbed.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because the urge that attracted you to Joanna is the same one that would make you tire of her quite quickly and would make you want other women. You may be fond of someone, you might even
love them, but the old hormones go on churning and they always point elsewhere.’ She laughed again and caressed him. ‘Like yours now. You may be in love with her, you may be horribly
upset but the hormones go their own sweet way, don’t they? Look at them.’

He stopped. ‘It’ll be no good if you’re going to be serious.’

She smiled and put her bare arms round his neck. ‘Don’t worry, love.’

Afterwards she asked for a big gin with a small tonic. When he returned with it she was sitting on the bed, dressed. ‘I must get back to my husband soon. He’ll be
suspicious.’

‘Where does he think you are?’

‘Here. I told him I was coming to say goodbye to you.’

‘You’ll tell him we talked, will you?’

‘Yes, and went to bed and made love. That’ll wake him up a bit.’ She smiled. ‘I wonder what he’d say? One of these days I’ll say that when I haven’t,
just to see.’

‘How long d’you think you’ll stay married?’

‘Now who’s being serious? And naive. One reason I made love with you tonight, my love, is that you’re leaving. I wouldn’t have if you’d been staying. That’s
the difference between me and Joanna. And I’ll probably stay married until I’m too old to do anything else. Come on, help me with this drink.’

She put her arm through his as they went downstairs. ‘D’you feel better?’

He grinned. ‘I’m afraid I do.’

She squeezed him. ‘Good. I thought you’d be lonely and upset. It takes the edge off it, doesn’t it?’

‘Blunts the sensibilities.’

‘It’s done me good, too. I think it really is good for you.’

At her car they kissed tenderly. ‘Bye-bye, love. Look after yourself. Have a good life. Think of me sometimes.’

On the way upstairs he switched out the landing light and paused again by the rape-gate. It was still slewed at its drunken angle and the moonlight threw shadows of its bars diagonally across
the wall. He thought of Stanley, Sarah’s heavy pull, and undressed again slowly. He left the gate open and all the doors unlocked, and slept well.

Chatsworth drove him to the airport next morning. He was cheerful. ‘Spent yesterday evening with Jim and Piet and a few of their cronies. A good crowd. It’s a pity
you’re going. As you are, though, you might get on to my firm for me when you’re in London and tell them they owe me a month’s salary plus expenses. Then I’ll be able to pay
you back what I owe. Hope you’ve kept a bill.’

‘Pay what you think,’ said Patrick. ‘What should I tell your firm you’re doing here?’

‘Don’t tell them anything. Just say I’m winding up my affairs, tying loose ends and all that. In fact, I’m going to resign and stay on but I don’t want them to know
until I’ve got my money. I like this place. Jim was telling me last night about a new anti-terrorist unit the army is setting up. Seems to think I might be able to join it. Sort of work I
like. Apparently, my record won’t count against me if I join the army. If not, I’ll see if Arthur could fix me up with something at his place. I want to keep in touch with him anyway.
Useful bloke to know.’

Chatsworth willingly undertook to do battle with Miss Teale about the inventory and about sending back Patrick’s belongings. He was confident of convincing Clifford or the ambassador that
he should stay in the house as a caretaker until all the repairs were effected, which would be several months at the very least.

‘Do you want the bakkie?’ asked Patrick. He had put off thinking about its disposal until his final drive.

‘I was going to ask. How much?’

‘Have it.’

‘I thought you liked it?’

‘That’s why I’m not selling it.’

‘Thanks. I’ll pay you back one day. What about this new Ford that’s arrived? You must let me give you something for it at least.’

‘That goes back at taxpayers’ expense.’

‘Bloody scandal. No wonder Britain’s the way it is.’

At the airport it appeared that one of the priorities was to make it difficult for people to leave the country. There were complicated formalities. Chatsworth got bored and Patrick was by then
happy to do without his assistance. They shook hands. ‘I’ll look you up when I’m passing through London,’ said Chatsworth. ‘I’ll come and stay.’

‘Anything you want me to say to Rachel?’

‘Tell her about the explosion and say I’ve had to go underground. I’ve got her address and I’ll see her in London if I make it across the border.’

There was no one from the embassy to see him off. Clifford had said it would ‘look bad’; besides, it was the early flight. It was not until he was past the barrier that he saw Joanna
and Jim. Jim’s pass must have got them through. There was no time for awkwardness.

‘Will we see you back?’ asked Jim. ‘No reason why not. Come for a holiday.’ He grinned.

‘How’s Stanley?’

‘He’s okay.’

‘Have you seen him?’

‘That’s what they tell me.’ Jim put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. ‘Really, I think he is. But he’ll stay away for a long time. Nothing you can
do.’

Joanna had her hair tied back. On a thin gold chain round her neck she wore the bullet. He shook hands with Jim but not with her. They looked at each other and she wished him a good flight.

His last view of Battenburg as the aeroplane climbed into the early morning haze was of the hundreds of blue and green swimming-pools glinting in the sun. The plane was nearly empty and he sat
alone at the back. A stewardess struggled in the aisle with the drinks trolley, complaining of the heavy pull; but he wanted nothing.