‘‘Go on,’’ I said.
‘‘I can’t.’’
‘‘Yes, yes, you can. Go on, Leonie.’’
‘‘I know you blame me,’’ she said, ‘‘ for my loyalty to
Him …’’
‘‘No, no, not just that …’’
‘‘When he first came here—the first chance—that was in the garden during the cocktail party—he told me everything about Holland. Don’t think I was charmed. I wasn’t. But .what astonished me was that he was genuine—not sham. In Amsterdam Left him for good, I thought, just because be was sham … But here he has been different. I’ve never seen him like it. When Grevil committed suicide he didn’t only destroy himself, you know … And if you marry someone you don’t just marry their virtues, you take it all.’’
The Italian boy was holding out some dish for me. I shook my head.
She said: ‘‘ I’m not defending him. Usually he doesn’t care a rap about other people, but I think that he even welcomed being with you because of the odd resemblance you had to Grevil—he was seeking something in you that he’d lost.’’
‘‘Darling,’’ said Jane, ‘‘did you say you were somebody’s wife? Are you married again? Or is this the separation?’’
‘‘Leonie drew in a breath to speak, glanced at Charlotte. ‘‘Forgive me,’’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘‘ I think I …’’
She screeched her chair back, moved swiftly to the door and went out.
There was another silence. Then the woman with the hat said: ‘‘I adore quarrels in other people’s houses. One has the vicarious excitement with no anxiety about one’s crockery.’’
‘‘Philip, I don’t think——’’ Charlotte began as I got up.
‘‘I’m sorry …’’ I went to the door, nearly upsetting Berto who was in my way.
But when I went out the hall was empty. That minute or so had been too much. She had probably gone up to her bedroom. Then I fancied I heard a sound in the big living-room and went sharply in. But the room was empty. As I came out I nearly cannoned into Sanbergh.
‘‘He said: ‘‘Hold hard. Let us take this a little more slowly. Measured in hours, life is quite long.’’
I was persuaded back reluctantly into the living-room. He switched or some more lights and offered me a cigarette.
I took the thing unsteadily, stared at it, my hand shaking. ‘‘Don’t spoil your dinner, Charles. I’m sorry, but I felt I—had to come out.’’
He smiled. ‘‘Why not go back and finish your own meal while I try to persuade her to do the same.’’
I shook my head. ‘‘Thanks, but I’ve really—had enough.’’
‘‘In more ways than one perhaps.’’ He lit his own cigarette, holding it carefully in manicured fingers. ‘‘I have a message for you—from your friend Coxon.’’
‘‘A message? For me? You saw him?’’
‘‘Yes. In the flat. We had—quite a long talk. He said I was to give it to you.’’
I stared at the bit of crumpled paper he had handed me. Something was scrawled on it in pencil. ‘‘ Quore vitia sua nemo confitetur? Quia etiam nunc in illis est. Maxima est enim factae injuriae poena, fecisse.’’
‘‘My Latin’s not good enough …’’
Sanbergh took the paper back. ‘‘It says … Well, it says: ‘Why does no one confess his sins? Because he is still in them. For the greatest penalty for having done an injury is the fact of having done it.’ ’’
The paper was handed back to me. I folded it once or twice. I said wryly: ‘‘ It’s a bad mistake to underestimate the enemy, isn’t it?’’
‘‘… You haven’t lit your cigarette.’’
I went to the mantelpiece, leaned heavily on it. ‘‘I don’t think I quite understand you again, Charles. I don’t know how much you and Charlotte know about this, how far you have tried to—to help or to hinder …’’
‘‘Not to hinder, certainly.’’
‘‘So it was a private arrangement of Leonie’s that Martin should join her in Poltano? ‘‘Neither you nor Charlotte knew anything of that?’’
‘‘There was no arrangement of any sort. Leonie told me that tonight.’’
‘‘But there must have been some arrangement between them! Martin spent all yesterday with her!’’
‘‘Not by her choice. Apparently da Cossa told Coxon where she was. He read the address on a letter Charlotte was forwarding and told Martin.’’
I stared at Sanbergh, trying to digest this thing. ‘‘ But I naturally thought it meant she had gone back to him! She has gone back to him, hasn’t she? Why otherwise did she go up there?’’
‘‘I gather it was her way of trying to get a perspective on things.’’
‘‘A perspective?’’
He screwed out his cigarette, watched the last spiral of smoke. ‘‘Does that surprise you?’’
After a minute I said: ‘‘ I got it all wrong—and her … But in the end it has been the same thing.’’
‘‘That was a matter she refused to discuss with me.’’
A surprised glance in his eyes made me turn and I heard a movement on the verandah. I ran to the open doors and saw her at the end of the verandah, moving to go down into the garden.
I overtook her at about me fourth step.
‘‘Leonie …’’
She stopped short with her back against the balustrade. We were still in the light cast from the windows, but out of earshot,
I said: ‘‘ You heard?’’
She said: ‘‘Philip, I never expected to meet you tonight! It wasn’t fair of Charles to bring you here!’’
‘‘That may be. I’m sorry. But I think I’ve got to talk to you now.’’
‘‘Haven’t we done enough to each other today?’’
‘‘Hurt, yes. But must that be the way it ends?’’
She didn’t answer. She looked angry, queer frightened.
I said: ‘‘D’you understand the mistake I made? I thought you’d gone to Poltano simply to rejoin Martin. I thought you’d left without a word as soon as my back was turned …’’
‘‘And I thought … But it doesn’t matter. It makes no difference, does it.’’
I said: ‘‘It does to me.’’
After a second or so she said: ‘‘I had to make up my own mind, and quickly, without other people’s thoughts getting in the way … and I had to make sure.’’
I said: ‘‘And now?’’
‘‘Well … now I’ve made sure.’’
‘‘It’s a different choice from Amsterdam.’’
‘‘Yes. It had to be.’’
I said: ‘‘Before you go on I want to tell you this. I love you and want you as I’ve not wanted anyone before. For me there’s not ever been anything like this … But that doesn’t mean I want you to make the wrong choice. If you feel about him as you seem to, then don’t be put off by anything I say, because nothing else makes sense as much as that.’’
Somebody passed in front of the light from the windows. It was Sanbergh moving in the room above.
I said: ‘‘But don’t go back to Martin because you’re sorry for him and think you can help him. And don’t go back to him because you’re married to him and think you must hold up your end of the bargain. It isn’t enough, Leonie. That isn’t enough. That way in the end you’d only do hurt to yourself …’’
There was a pause. I watched her breathing, which was being about as difficult as my own.
I said: ‘‘Do you love him?’’
She passed her tongue over her lips. ‘‘I’ve made my choice.’’
‘‘Leonie,’’ I said. ‘‘ Don’t keep running away. Look at me.’’
She looked at me then. ‘‘Philip, I’m not running away. But I can’t let him down. In many ways, I know, he’s bad—but there’s good in him too. Grevil knew that. And just now Martin is—adrift, without direction—the way I was when I first met him. Even women play fair sometimes. Even I don’t—desert a sinking
ship …’’
‘‘Do you love him?’’ I said.
She opened her eyes wide at me. ‘‘No!’’ she said in anger. ‘‘ Not properly, not absolutely, not in the way you mean.’’
‘‘Leonie——’’
‘‘But that doesn’t mean that I’m—that I’m heart whole or free of him. I care what becomes of him! That’s one of the—penalties and privileges of knowing him. Most people feel it. Much more so for me—being his wife. If I left him now there would be ghosts always that couldn’t be laid! My only chance is to go back to him now—and let it work itself out …’’
There was a creak on the verandah and Charles Sanbergh came slowly down the steps. ‘‘Forgive me. It is ill-mannered for an outsider to interfere, but I am interested in what you have decided.’’
I said: ‘‘ I’m going back with Leonie tonight to see Martin.’’
‘‘Philip——’’
‘‘Oh, there won’t be any more fighting. That’s over, spent …’’
‘‘Don’t be a fool,’’ said Sanbergh.
I looked at him.
‘‘If I were in your position,’’ he said, ‘‘ I should take Leonie on the first plane back to England—and then to America—if she would come.’’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘‘I should take her perhaps even if she would not come.’’
Leonie said: ‘‘No, Charles, it’s impossible. I’ve been explaining to Philip——’’
‘‘If you both go back to Poltano, Martin will win the battle of loyalty, as it is in his nature to do. Oh, I don’t blame him for fighting; who wouldn’t? I don’t blame him for according to his nature, which is egocentric and one-purposed. Your brother, my dear Philip, from what I gather, cracked that egoism wide open. It may be that as a result Martin Coxon is at a turning point in his life. But if he does find some new way of being, he can only find it on his own and in his own way. To go with him now, Leonie, to comfort and companion him, will very probably undo anything that Grevil Turner may have accomplished. Go with Philip, where you belong.’’
She was trembling. ‘‘I’ve promised,’’ she said. ‘‘I promised to return tonight. Nothing will change that!’’
‘‘I heard you,’’ said Sanbergh. ‘‘I’ll go in your place—tell him what’s happened. I have a broad back. Take her to England, Philip.’’
‘‘No!’’ she said.
‘‘Yes!’’ I said passionately. ‘‘Charles is right; Leonie. Even if you don’t care so much for me personally, come back with me as far as your home. Start afresh—on your own. That’s what you decided in Amsterdam, and that is right.’’
‘‘It was right for then. It—it may be right some time in the future. But …’’
‘‘Leonie, it’s right for now. Will you come?’’
She didn’t answer.
I said: ‘‘Do you care anything for me at all?’’
She said: ‘‘Don’t you see how impossible it is that you should have someone—close to you who had any feelings for Martin at all?’’
I checked what I was going to say, hardly able to believe we had come so far, knowing even so that the whole thing still hung in the balance.
Of course, even supposing for a second that the balance might be tipped my way, she had put her finger on the vital spot. There couldn’t be any sudden and complete break between her and Martin; the legal tie might be the least of it, but it was the material anchor which couldn’t be slipped in a night. That much was obvious. But after that? What after that? Ghosts that couldn’t be laid …
I said: ‘‘Can you give me one thing …’’
She looked at me then.
I said: ‘‘Not loyalty, not friendship, not sympathy … but some part of your love.’’
She said suddenly in a low voice: ‘‘It’s so much the largest part of my love.’’
Sanbergh made an expressive gesture. ‘‘What time shall I get you the boat?’’
‘‘But I can’t go with Philip!’’ she protested. ‘‘Neither of you seem to understand! If I let Martin down now, let myself down as well; and that’s not the way to—start again. If I’m ever lucky enough to come to you, Philip then it must be with a clear slate.’’
There was a long silence.
Sanbergh said: ‘‘Let me put it this way. If you go back to Martin Coxon now, for the reasons you have, you’ll be doing the same sort of thing as Grevil Turner, and doing it because of the same man. People, I suspect, have been sacrificing themselves for Martin in a greater or lesser degree all his life. Grevil Turner did it in excess—or in excelsis—I don’t know which. But, whichever it was, now is the time to stop.’’
After a while then I could tell there was beginning a slow give-way within her. It was a condition of muscle, not a movement. In a few sentences Charles had said things that she knew from her greater knowledge of Martin to be unanswerable.
‘‘Leonie,’’ I said, ‘‘ after what you’ve just told me there isn’t any argument that can stand.’’
‘‘I shouldn’t have said it, but you——’’
‘‘Don’t take it back now.’’
She said: ‘‘There’s nothing I want to take back.’’
I looked at Sanbergh. ‘‘One day I hope I shall he able to repay you, and Charlotte—somehow—for the help you have given us tonight.’’
Leonie said: ‘‘Charles …’’ and stopped. It was still a protest, but it was becoming a defeated one.
Sanbergh turned to go. ‘‘You know, Philip, fidelity of heart isn’t much in vogue these days—and it can be a little dangerous. For both of you I think it has been dangerous. Perhaps if you practise it towards each other, you will find it brings a more excellent return.’’
He left us then and went back into the house, to rejoin the company, and with a smile or a nod or an understood glance to satisfy Charlotte.
Copyright
First published in 1955 by Hodder & Stoughton
This edition published 2013 by Bello
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Copyright © Winston Graham, 1955
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The Little Walls Page 25
