The distance to the chest of drawers was a very long way. The room instead of having grown smaller with acquaintance had stretched, and the effort to pull open a drawer seemed beyond him. But he managed it, and was taking out a shirt when the door opened.
‘Larry!’
He clutched for support at the top of the drawers, and the shirt fell to the floor.
‘Larry. What on earth are you up to? What’s the matter?…Come on this minute and get back into bed.’
‘Jessie.’ He still clung on to the drawers.
‘Yes. Leave go.’ She took hold of his hands. ‘Come on…Why have you got up? You’ll put yourself back for weeks.’
‘Jessie.’
‘Come on. There…’ She supported him back to the bed.
But having sat down, he said, ‘Wait…wait…Sit down.’ He laid a hand on each knee in an effort to steady their trembling, and his head had the urge to droop onto his chest with weariness. He watched her pull up a chair and sit down, and when she sat facing him, waiting, he dropped his eyes to his hands and said, ‘I saw the fellow come.’
There was no answer from her, and he could not bring his eyes up to her face, but in line with his vision he could see her hands lying one on top of the other in her lap. They were not agitated and twisting, but they seemed to symbolise, even emphasise, her attitude towards him during these past weeks; they seemed to be calmly waiting.
‘Jessie.’
There was no response to the plea in his voice, and he drew in a deep breath before murmuring, ‘He wants to marry you, doesn’t he, that’s why he’s come back again?’
‘Yes.’
His heart bounded painfully, and he dare not ask, ‘Are you going to?’ But he raised his eyes to her face. It looked calm and somewhat sad and gave him no lead one way or the other. And he stammered, ‘I…I wouldn’t blame you if you took him; you’re worth the…the best. But, Jessie…I want you…I want you as I never did before. I was a nowt in those days, I’ve always been a nowt’—he used the full-mouth word of the northerner which portrayed the self-centred, egotistical bighead better than any other word. ‘You were always too good for me. But more so now. But, Jessie, I’—his heart knocked at his ribs, his throat swelled—‘I love you again. You won’t believe it, but I do.’
Drunkenly he swayed from the bed and onto his knees, and flinging his arms about her his voice went on incoherently: ‘I do; I do. I couldn’t believe it myself, but I do. Believe me, Jessie. It isn’t only him, I’ve known for some time, but the pig-headedness of me…I couldn’t bring myself. But now; now, Jessie.’
When he felt her hands strong and firm on his head he became quiet, and raised his face to hers. And there he saw his answer. The waiting had gone from her eyes, and under his gaze she became transfigured, beautiful as she had never been. Her face moved down to his, and his whole being cried out to her, ‘Jessie. Oh, Jessie!’
The End
The Menagerie Page 26
