by Ted Lewis
“Not at all. Go ahead, lover. Shall I look after your crutches?”
They began dancing and I went and sat on the arm of the chair containing Harry’s erstwhile kissing partner.
“Hello,” she said, pulling her skirt down over her knees and smiling for me to slide into the chair with her. She had had a drop to drink.
“Now then,” I said. “What’s your name, ducks?”
“Ducks?” she said.
“That’s right. Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“Are you one of the jazz musicians that Joan invited?” she asked.
“That’s right. My name’s Charlie Parker.”
“How interesting. My name is Marcia Miller and I went to school with Janet Walker. I saw you kissing her. Are you her boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Sod.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
She giggled.
“You’re too nice for her. I bet she’s tight as a drum. Silly bitch. Always was.”
“Really.”
“Tight as a drum.” She giggled again.
“No, you are,” I said.
She lay back in the chair with her eyes closed, chortling. Her glass was balanced on the other arm of the chair. It was a big glass. I leant across and caused it to fall in her lap. I got up and walked away just as she started squealing to herself.
I saw Janet across the other side of the room. She was talking to a boy who I recognized as Randolph, her ex-boyfriend. I picked up somebody’s whisky on the way over.
“Now then,” I said.
“I was wondering where you’d got to,” she said, smiling. She took my hand and pressed it secretly against her leg. I kissed her on the neck for Randolph’s benefit.
“Have you met Randolph, sweet?” She looked me straight in the eyes to tell me not to say anything. I turned to Randolph.
“Hello,” I said.
He smiled uncomfortably.
“How do you do,” he said. We shook hands.
“Janet was telling me you’ve left the art college.”
“Yes, that’s right. Sighs of relief can still be heard issuing eerily from the staff room on dark moonless nights.”
“Are you pleased it’s behind you?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Now I’m successful I can look back on it all and smile.”
Janet squeezed my hand.
“Oh? Why, what are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m testing armchairs—”
“Vic. Come and dance with me,” said Janet.
We found an empty space and began dancing close together, slowly. I picked up somebody else’s glass from a small table. I heard Janet’s voice in my ear.
“Vic. Don’t hurt yourself. It’s senseless.”
“Things can’t get worse. A bit of self-flagellation won’t hurt.”
“It hurts me. You mustn’t look at things the way you do.”
“Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Yeah.”
We stopped dancing. I filled my glass with some whisky.
“Let’s not dance anymore,” I said.
I sat down in an armchair and Janet sat on my knee. I pulled her to me and lay back, closing my eyes. Her fingers felt gentle on my neck. The chair began spinning.
“I love you, Vic.” Her voice was close. She kissed my mouth.
Then her lips ranged across my cheeks, paused on my closed eyelids and then moved onto my forehead.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.
“It might not be wise, Vic.”
“Why not? You’re meant to be staying the night with Joan. There’s no one here.”
“I know. But you know what my mother’s like. She’d know. I don’t know how, but she would.”
“If she’s so omnipresent, how is it she doesn’t know about the other times?”
“That’s different. You know it. Being here, I’m certain she’d find out.”
“She won’t. God, it’s not as though we have any chance to be alone now.”
She kissed me again.
“I know,” she said.
“Well then,” I opened my eyes. She looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
“You sound as if you don’t want to,” I said. “Now that you’ve so many other admirers.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not. Now that I’m away from college, I bet they’re all round like shots from a gun.”
I took a drink.
“It’s you I want. I always will,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She got up from my lap and took my hand. I swayed up from the chair. We walked across the room toward the door.
We walked up the stairs. When we reached the top, Janet said:
“Wait here, sweet. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She went into the bathroom. I leant on the banister and looked down into the hall not really looking at anything in particular. Behind me, coming across the landing from behind a half-open bedroom door, I could hear two voices arguing.
“Anyway,” said the male voice, “all I know is, you’ve changed, and you’ve changed since you came back from on holiday.”
“Don’t be so stupid,” said the voice of Karen. “I’m no different at all. I’m the same as when I went away. If you keep on saying I’ve changed, I’m going down.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just, well—you know how I feel about you. I know I’m asking a lot for you to feel the same way about me, but I hope you will someday, and then—well, maybe you’ll understand why I go on like this.”
“I understand,” she said impatiently. “But why do you have to be so irritating about it? Sometimes you get on my nerves. You never used to be like this when we first went out together. It was much better then.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t improved for knowing,” he said, almost sounding angry.
“Stop saying you’re sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to come back from holiday. None of the boys I met out there were as depressing as you.”
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s obvious you’d much rather be back there than here with me.”
“We enjoyed ourselves out there, Janet and I. Everybody was so gay. Nobody cared.”
“Of course not. Everybody was on holiday. Nobody cares when they’re on holiday.”
“Exactly. And I wish I was still on holiday.”
Janet came out of the bathroom.
As we walked along the landing, Karen and her boyfriend came out of the bedroom. Karen smirked at Janet as she went by then gave me a faint smile. My blood went hot. Karen’s face released the last stage of my well-nursed jealousy. The drink soared painfully up and down in my chest.
We went into Joan’s bedroom. Janet switched on a rosy bedside lamp. I had difficulty in concentrating on the scene as a whole, but unimportant details jumped at my eyes in sharp focus. I was conscious of the pattern of the wallpaper, the colour of the curtains, the high-heeled shoes lying on the floor. I stared at a popular print of a Paris café vista on the wall which madly drew my concentration, and yet, the vicious jealousy which caroused buoyantly round the rest of my mind was as clearly defined and exhilarating as the icy drops from a rushing Alpine stream.
Janet’s face was in front of me. She was smiling.
“Vic,” she said, and stretched her arms toward me.
I smiled back. Smiled back with all the contempt I could possibly express. A part of my mind said: now you’ve reached the point of no return. If the words to accompany the smile are said, you won’t be able to un-say them. You know why you’re doing it. You’re frustrated, you’re unhappy, you’re too selfish to accept and trust someone else’s unselfish love. Wha
tever you do, however much pain you cause Janet, however much pain you cause yourself, you know why you’re doing it: to release your miserable feelings in a positive act and cause pain to compensate for your own, to give you further cause for long days of self-pity. This is going to be dreadful and you are too drunk to realize how vicious and painful it is going to be. Janet has loved you for a year and it hasn’t diminished, and your idle mind has been active only in trying to find a flaw in Janet’s love to parallel the flaw in yourself. You’re the cheater, Victor. You know it and that’s another reason why you will hurt yourself in payment for your cheating. And you don’t want to do it but you’re too proud to go back and admit your fault and your reasons and too impatient to wait for the age when your pride no longer interferes with your natural motives. You’re not going to stop now because you haven’t got the guts not to be confused. Janet waits for the sentence you are going to give yourself.
I took Janet’s outstretched hands. She moved closer toward me and as she did, my fingers slid down her hands until they encircled her wrists. She hadn’t recognized the smile for what it was yet.
She moved toward the bed and we sank down to sit on its edge. I still held her wrists. She closed her eyes and made to move her face against mine. Her being relaxed. Her face was longing, yet peaceful. A knee touched mine. I smelled her perfume close to my face. My body moved as though independent of my mind, and I released one of her wrists and pushed her back on the bed. The whisky crackled through my veins.
“Janet,” I said. “You can tell me now.”
“What, sweetest?” She lay still, half-smiling, not opening her eyes.
“I mean, it’s all right. It won’t make any difference to the way I feel. Honestly.”
She opened her eyes. My face was tightly smiling in the red light.
“What do you mean?”
“You know. About Guernsey,” I said pleasantly.
“Oh, Vic. I thought that was over, darling.”
“Oh, it will be. Once you’ve told me the truth.”
She frowned and looked away from me.
“Don’t. I want you to trust me.”
“In that case, tell me the truth.”
“For God’s sake, I’ve told you,” she said, flaring up at me.
I grasped her wrists tightly. I felt her body go quiet under me.
“Come on,” I said in a soft controlled voice. “Tell me all about it.”
“You’re hurting,” she said flatly.
“Tell me how you met this boy, how he was terrifically handsome, how you saw him everyday.”
“Vic, let me get up.”
“Oh, no. You’re staying here till I know. How you saw him every night and the air was warm while you lay together on the beach under stars—”
“Let me get up. I want to go down, please.”
My face twisted the smile into a more grotesque invitation. My voice carried on with a vicious urgency.
“How you let him kiss you and touch you here—” I ran a hand across her breasts and down her body. “—and here and then you opened—”
“Let me go, let me go,” she squirmed under me. “You can’t—”
“—and you let him do it. Didn’t you? Just like I do. And you liked it. Didn’t you?”
I shouted the last words through my clenched teeth. Her face went out of focus as her head went from side to side in her efforts to free herself. I moved quickly and sat astride her.
“And what about since you’ve been back at college. What about it, eh. How many bastards have been out with you up to now, then? How many?” I pressed her deeper into the bed. “Karen didn’t give me the exact detail.”
“What’s happening? God, what’s happening?”
“It’s true isn’t it? Isn’t it? It’s all bloody well true.”
“Oh please. Please let me go.”
“Swear it’s true. I’ll bloody well kill you if you don’t tell me the truth.”
“Let me go!”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll let you go.”
I swung off her and stood by the bed, reeling and breathing heavily. She made to get up. I leant over her.
“I’ll let you go all right. I’ll let you go because I don’t care whether you stay or leave. We’re finished. I don’t need anyone like you. My God, when I think of the last year when I could have been enjoying myself instead of tying myself to a bird like you.”
I laughed like a hyena. Janet lay on the bed, half leaning against the headboard, looking at me as though she had never seen me before. She was still and quiet. A tear began to trace a path down her face but her face itself was cold and expressionless.
“You think I’ve been faithful to you, don’t you. You think I’ve been sitting in my digs twiddling my bloody thumbs while your mother had you trapped in that glass menagerie of hers. Well, I’ve not. I’ve been out and about. I’m Victor Geoffrey Graves and there’s been some people glad of my company. You believed all that stuff I gave you, didn’t you? Well, I’ll tell you why I said it—”
She got up from the bed on the side away from me. She began to walk round the bed to my side of it and to the half-open door. She looked down at the floor. Tears rolled down her face, but her face was empty as though no expression could describe the feelings that were in her.
“No, wait,” I said as she drew level with me. “I’ve not finished yet.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. She tried to pass me. I gripped both of her shoulders.
“Just a minute,” I said. “It was to get you into bed because that’s all—”
“Get out of the way. Get out of my way!” she screamed, tears flowing quickly now.
She tried to push me away, beating at me with her fists. I gripped her all the more tightly.
“Let me go. Let me go,” she sobbed, struggling with me, her face contorted in anguish, her eyes closed, not wanting to look at me. The final red of my trembling violence burned into my eyes and I hit her across the mouth and pushed her as hard as I could into the bedroom wall.
We stood facing each other. Everything snapped back in my mind. I saw what I had done. My mouth hung open at the comprehension of the last few minutes. Janet’s face went suddenly blank at the impact. She leant against the wall, staring at me, her eyes wide.
“Oh God,” she said. Her mouth formed a smile of disbelief. “Oh, my God.” She laughed. “Let me get out of here. Let me get out. Oh, God.” She laughed again and began walking to the door, her handkerchief against her mouth as though to keep the laughter back.
“Janet. Janet, wait.” I moved toward her. “Listen to me. You must listen. Wait please.”
She began to go through the door. I put my hand on her shoulder. She spun round.
“Get away from me. Get away!” she screamed. I tried to hold her.
“Get away. Don’t touch me!” She tried frantically to struggle free.
“Listen. Oh please wait. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s over; it’s over and get away from me.”
I gripped her with all my strength and pulled her over to the bed, pushing her down on it.
“Listen to me. Listen. You know I didn’t mean it, don’t you? You know why. Please, tell me, Janet. It wasn’t true, any of it.”
She still struggled to free herself from under me.
“I don’t care, I don’t care.” Tears continued to shine on her face. “Leave me alone. God, please.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Janet, Janet you know I love you. That’s why I’m like this. But God, I hurt you. Oh, hell. Hell.” Tears came quickly. “Please help me. I love you. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t, I didn’t.” My face pressed into her neck. She had become still again. Her breasts rose and fell steadily beneath my chest.
“Please.
You know I love you,” I said.
We stayed like that for over an hour. Janet never moved once. I kept repeating my useless words over and over.
I got up from the bed. Janet had fallen asleep. I left the room and went downstairs.
That’s it, I thought. It’s over. I was too empty to feel remorse and too ashamed to feel apology possible or worthwhile and too shocked to feel as demoralized and as pained as I should have done. And most of all, I felt that what I had done and said was too awful to allow me to ask Janet to forgive me.
I sat on a chair in the kitchen. The party was virtually finished. The table was awash with beer. I stared at my glass, listening to the last guests going out of the front door. In the other room, sounds of traditional jazz floated from the record player. A few minutes later, Joan came into the room.
“How’s Janet?” I said, still staring at my glass.
“I think she’s all right now. She’s gone back to sleep again.” She sat down on a chair at the other side of the table. She smiled, sadly and sympathetically.
“Janet—told me what happened, Vic.”
“I expected she would.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know Janet very well, Vic. You meant everything to her. She used to tell me about you. I envied her very much, the fact that she could feel like that about someone. Why didn’t you trust her? It’s as if you had no idea of how she felt.”
“I know.”
“Anyway.” She got up from the chair.
“What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know. She may need time... She doesn’t know what to think at the moment.”
“I’ve ruined everything. Haven’t I?”
“I think she loves you enough to forgive you, if it’s any conso-lation. But when, I don’t know.”
Harry entered.
“I thought you’d gone home,” I said.
“So did I but I woke up behind the settee.”
“Do either of you feel hungry?” asked Joan.
“Yes, please,” said Harry.
Anne made us some cheese on toast and a cup of tea.
