Dance While You Can

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Sooner than they intended. She’s pregnant, or so he told me when I called him last night.’

  ‘You spoke to him last night? Did you tell him about . . .’

  ‘Yes.’

  She sighed again. ‘So Henry Clive is going to become a father. It hardly seems credible. I still think of him as the boy I used to know. I’m glad he’s happy.’ She turned in her seat. ‘And you, Alexander, are you happy?’

  I picked her hand up from the table. ‘Now I am. Yes.’

  ‘Me too.’

  I lifted her hand to my lips. ‘What are you thinking?’ I asked, when she had remained silent for several minutes.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I was thinking about Charlotte, wishing she was here, wondering if she’s all right. I suppose it’s thinking about Henry, and oh . . . I don’t know . . .’

  I squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t be sorry. Tell me about her. How old is she?’

  Slowly she entwined her hands round mine and stared down at them for a long time. ‘She’s beautiful, she’s naughty, she’s everything in the world to me, just like . . .’ She looked up with a quick smile. ‘Was that your stomach telling us it’s time for dinner?’

  I laughed and tweaked her nose, and at the same time was ashamed of my relief that she had gone no further. I didn’t want to confront my feelings about Charlotte. It seemed ludicrous to be jealous of a child, but I knew I was. Even worse were the feelings I experienced whenever I thought of Charlotte’s father. Unbidden images of the three of them, and their togetherness, were already eating away at me like a cancer. And the fact that he had been able to give Elizabeth something I could never give her razored my mind.

  When we got upstairs Elizabeth threw her coat on the bed and went to close the curtains. When she turned round she stopped as she saw me standing against the door, watching her in the semi-darkness; she started to speak, then stopped, and I held her gaze with my own. All I wanted just then was to look at her, and in the silence neither of us moved.

  ‘Standing there like that, you remind me of the Alexander I knew when he was seventeen.’ There was a slight catch in her voice.

  When I didn’t answer she gave an uncertain laugh, then covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening. Tell me I’m not dreaming, Alexander. Hold me, please hold me.’

  At the note of desperation in her voice my heart twisted, and taking her in my arms I held her close. ‘My darling, oh my darling. God, how I’ve needed you. How I’ve wanted you.’

  I drew back to look at her. ‘Don’t let me go,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t ever let me go.’ She lifted her mouth and as I covered her lips with my own I felt her begin to tremble.

  Wave after wave of longing swept through my body, and when, minutes later, she stepped naked into my arms, my fear of impotency was over. I ran my hands over her back, and through her heavy hair, piling it on to her head; I pulled her face to mine, moulding my lips and my tongue into her mouth. She stood against me, pressing the length of her body against mine, until gently I lifted her into my arms and laid her on the bed.

  Slowly our bodies began to move together. She whispered as she kissed me and I whispered too, making up for all the years I had been unable to tell her how much I loved her. Her skin was so soft and I held her close, as if afraid she might slip away. I had forgotten what it was truly to make love with a woman, when passion was born of love, not lust; when the mouth you were kissing was the only mouth you would ever want to kiss, and the body that moulded into yours was the one without which yours would never be complete. ‘Elizabeth, Elizabeth.’ I said her name, over and over, never moving my lips from hers.

  The hazy light of dawn was beginning to penetrate the windows when finally, exhausted by the depth of our love, we fell asleep.

  Running away, expecting everything to be the same after so long, was madness of course. But madness or not, it was not the present that seemed unreal to us, but the years we had been apart. To have the chance to tell each other at last, how we’d felt when we parted, and how we’d thought of each other in the years that followed, was like a gift from heaven. Elizabeth had changed, so had I, and the changes sometimes delighted us, sometimes saddened us. But there was no awkwardness between us, everything we did felt as natural and as easy as if we had always been together. It wasn’t that either of us had forgotten what we had left behind, it was simply that it didn’t seem to matter. This time belonged to us. I watched her, the slant of her eyes, the slow curl of her smile and the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. The sense of recognition I had as she flicked her hair from her face, as she used her elegant fingers to emphasise what she was saying, as I watched the easy movements of her long legs when we walked about the island – was mesmerising. Just listening to her as she laughed and talked, or watching her eyes darken with love, rushed warmth through my veins.

  The sea spread like wings on either side of us as we cycled north to Greve de la Ville, La Banquette and Eperquerie Landing. The road – which was no more than a cart track – was rough, and Elizabeth, not one of the world’s greatest cyclists, swore as she ploughed into one pot-hole after another. I yelled with laughter when she threw her bike into a hedge, declaring she would be more comfortable on a three-legged camel. I managed to catch her as she started to stomp off up the road, and spun her round. Then making sure no one was in sight, I rubbed my hands soothingly over her buttocks and thighs, asking if that felt any better. Her eyes were bright as she answered.

  The only sounds were those of the birds and the sea. As we rode on, a sweet fragrance of coconut wafted gently by on the breeze and the occasional cow favoured us with a lazy glance. Now and again we stopped, on the pretext of looking at something unusual or resting our legs, but really all we wanted to do was touch each other, and kiss.

  We climbed down to the Boutiques Caves, where we sat for a while watching the waves. Elizabeth got up and strolled to the mouth of a cave to look inside. All around us there was an air of mystical romance. If you close your eyes long enough, I told her, you can hear the ghosts of smugglers hauling their booty into the bay. She stood quietly for several minutes, straining her ears for the sounds. With one eye partially open I watched her and tried not to laugh.

  ‘Aar Haar! And what sort of contraband ’ave we ’ere?’ It was my best smuggler’s voice, and scooping her up in my arms I ran with her into the cave.

  ‘Oh help! Put me down, put me down, you beast.’

  I did, and she threw herself against the wall of the cave. ‘Oh no, please don’t ravish me, I beg you!’

  ‘All right.’ I doffed an invisible cap. ‘If you don’t wish to be ravished, my lady, then far be it from me to press my attentions.’

  ‘Alexander!’

  ‘You called, my lady?’ I sighed wearily and turned back. ‘Do I take it you want to be ravished, my lady?’

  She nodded, and fell into my arms, almost speechless with laughter.

  We roamed beaches I have now forgotten the names of, carrying our shoes and gasping as the icy sea washed over our toes. So often I felt her eyes on me, and when I turned to her she would laugh and throw her arms round my neck. And then I would watch her – laughing, frowning, running away from me, gasping for breath as she looked back to find that I was nowhere in sight. And when she came looking I would spring out from behind my rock and topple her to the ground, drowning her shrieks with kisses.

  Later we rode horses out on to the cliffs that overlooked Dixcart Bay. Far beneath us the sun sparkled across the sea, and behind, keeping a lonely vigil, was Jespillière House. We walked round it, peering in through the windows. It looked as if it had been deserted for many years. We decided we would buy it, and began a game of what we would do when it was ours. We would buy two rocking-chairs for the veranda, where we could sit on balmy nights watching the sun go down over the sea. And facing the middle window upstairs we would set our bed, so that each morning we could look out and watch the day stirring
into life. Elizabeth wanted chintz curtains, I wanted plain. She wanted oak panels, I wanted walnut. She wanted grey carpet, I wanted green. She wanted four children, I wanted . . .

  I smiled, then taking the reins of my horse, I led it to the edge of the meadow. There was a gap in the gorse, so letting my horse go to graze freely, I dropped down on to a ledge in the cliff. To one side I found an old stone seat that had been carved into the rocks, and sat down.

  Our little game of plans for the future, which had started so innocently, had ended by serving as a bitter reminder to me. I asked myself what I was doing here. Hadn’t I hurt Elizabeth enough before, without needing to do it all over again? Perhaps I should tell her now, before her dreams became so real that she believed them. But how could I? What we had together, here, so far from the harsh realities of our everyday lives, was too perfect to shatter. And, just like her, I wanted to imagine our children playing on the veranda, riding their ponies in the meadow, calling to us to watch them. I needed my dreams too. What did it matter if they could never be? For now they were all we had, and I couldn’t take them away from her. And though I hated myself for the lies, I would deal with them later, when we were far away from here.

  I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting the bitter salt that had carried on the wind from the sea. I could hear her picking her way through the undergrowth towards me, and I dashed my hand across my eyes. I hated this weakness – this curse of infertility that made a grown man cry tears of self-pity.

  She came to sit beside me and linked her fingers through mine. Somewhere in the distance a dog began to bark, discordant against the background sough of the waves. Seagulls cawed, and somewhere the engine of a speed-boat roared into life. Then all was still again.

  ‘Alexander? Is everything all right?’

  ‘All right? Of course it is.’ Down in the bay two people were rowing out to their trimaran and I leaned forward to watch them boarding.

  ‘You’re very quiet suddenly.’

  ‘Just soaking up the atmosphere.’

  She waited. ‘Alexander, you’re not being honest with me.’

  I sat back. How could I have thought that I would be able to fob her off with inanities? I lifted a lock of her hair and wound it round my finger, looking into her face and seeing bewilderment and fear where earlier there had been only love. I smiled.

  ‘I know there’s something,’ she said, her eyes searching mine. ‘Darling, please tell me.’

  I slipped an arm around her. ‘There’s nothing. Only the fact that I love you so much it frightens me.’

  For a long time she looked into my eyes. I met her gaze, willing myself not to look away. Then slowly she lifted her hands, and placing them on either side of my face, she kissed me, slowly, and with the greatest tenderness I had ever known.

  On the second day I took her to Little Sark. It was a steep and difficult climb down the cliffs, but when we finally reached the bottom, I knew I had been right to come. This would be our special place, this tiny pool – Venus Pool – that was scooped deep into the rocks, hiding away beneath a hanging boulder. The water was clear and blue so that we could see the pebbles at the bottom. And behind us the sea roared on to the surrounding cliffs, growling as if to protect its young. The sun was hot and we lay down beside the pool, holding hands and feeling the breeze sweep gently over our faces. Every sense was touched by nature.

  After a while I opened my eyes. I could tell from her steady breathing that Elizabeth was sleeping. I turned on to my side to look at her, and as my eyes roamed slowly over her face I felt my heart swell. Her olive skin was smooth beneath my fingers as I lightly touched her cheeks. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. But it wasn’t only her physical beauty, there was another kind of beauty too; it was what made her the woman she was. I thought of Jessica then. She would never understand why I loved Elizabeth so much. I wondered if she would be looking for me now. Would she care at all where I was? My marriage had been a lie from the start, and I knew now what a fool I had been to think I could use it to forget Elizabeth. What a mess I had made of all our lives!

  ‘Alexander, come down from there.’ I had climbed the rocks while she slept, and was lying on the boulder that overhung the pool, looking up at the sky.

  ‘No.’ I smiled to myself as I heard her laugh.

  ‘Please come down.’

  ‘I can’t. The tide’s practically in, there’s no way through. I’m afraid you’re stranded.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I tried to wake you but you were snoring so loudly it drowned out my voice.’

  Her voice was bubbling with laughter as she answered, ‘I don’t snore! And I’m not stranded either.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because if the tide really was coming in, which it’s not, you wouldn’t have left me here.’

  ‘I wouldn’t?’ I raised myself on one elbow. ‘And what makes you so sure of that?’

  ‘You love me too much, that’s what.’

  ‘Do I?’

  She nodded. ‘Yep. In fact, I bet if I asked you to prove it by jumping into the pool right now, fully clothed, you’d do it.’

  ‘Ask me.’

  She asked.

  ‘No,’ I said, and she burst out laughing. I got to my feet and descended by the dry route.

  ‘I missed you,’ she said, as I put my arms around her.

  I lifted my hand to her chin and stroked my thumb over her face. ‘Shall I tell you ten reasons why Miss Sorrill is the best?’ I whispered. ‘One, because she looks lovely when she smiles. Two, because she says outrageous things. Three . . .’

  I laughed as I saw the look on her face. ‘You – you know about that?’

  I nodded. ‘I should, I wrote it.’

  ‘You wrote it! But I always thought it was Mark Devenish! Why didn’t you ever . . .’

  ‘Sssh,’ I whispered. ‘Just kiss me.’

  When I let her go she began to unbutton her dress, her eyes holding mine. I watched her until, naked, she walked to the edge of the pool. All around her shapeless formations of rock pushed against the horizon, and set against that harsh and uncompromising background the silhouette of her body appeared infinitely vulnerable. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at me, but I was holding my breath at the vision of incomparable beauty. Then she was gone. The water parted and I waited for her to resurface. When she did, her hair floated round her and she smiled and waved.’ Then she drifted on to her back, presenting her body to me, the full breasts caressed by ripples, the thatch of black pubic hair silky at the join of her long legs. She was watching me watching her. Then taking off my clothes, I slipped into the pool and we swam together.

  Looking back now, I think we both knew how selfish we were being, but at the time we were so much in love that nothing else seemed to matter. I listened for hours while she told me about the fairground and Violet May. Then I basked in her admiration as I told her about the cases I had been involved in, shamelessly exaggerating my successes. I’m sure she knew what I was doing, but nevertheless allowed me to wander on in my own fantasy world – until, with an ear-shattering snore, she brought me back to earth again.

  Every day we strolled along the narrow high street, watching the women as they shopped and chatted. Elizabeth often stopped to talk to them, and the way she could make them flush with pleasure, or laugh, made me want to burst with pride. She was interested in them all; it was plain to see that people were a joy to her.

  ‘She told me it’s her anniversary so she’s going to try out a new recipe tonight,’ she said, as she waved a dumpy, smiling woman off on her bicycle.

  ‘I heard,’ I remarked dryly.

  ‘Oh, you weren’t bored, were you?’ she teased.

  ‘Stiff.’

  She laughed, and ran on ahead. When I caught up with her she was sitting on a wall, waiting, so I sat down beside her. ‘Were you really bored?’ she said.

  ‘No. But I was wondering. Is it enough, do you think?’

 
‘Enough?’

  ‘For these women. Do you think they’re happy, you know, living here on this island. Or do you think they want more out of life? More than just looking after a man?’

  She turned to face me. ‘Alexander, don’t tell me that on top of everything else, you’re a feminist too?’

  I laughed. ‘If I am, then I’m definitely still in the closet! But tell me, you’re a wife and mother. Is it enough for you?’

  ‘What you really want to know is, am I one of the lesbian brigade, as you so chauvinistically call it, that Jessica belongs to?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, I’m not one of them. But that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with a lot of what they say. I just think they go about things in the wrong way, that’s all.’

  ‘So how would you go about it?’

  ‘Me! My darling, I have neither the education nor the rhetoric to be a leader of women, but I can tell you this: they’re missing the point. OK, what they’re achieving materially and socially is right, admirable. But the aggression they use only makes people hostile to their cause – women included. It’s a bit like the old fable about the wind and sun, isn’t it? It was the sun and the warmth that made the man take his coat off.’

  ‘And who says she doesn’t have the education or the rhetoric?’

  She pinched me. ‘But there’s another reason why I wouldn’t do for them. You see, I’m hopelessly and incurably in love with a man, and that’s simply not allowed.’

  Though I knew I had never been so happy, dark thoughts were never far from my mind. I knew I should tell her, I even tried to persuade myself that she would understand, but I was a coward. I kept remembering Jessica’s face when she told me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to bear it if my infertility was the reason Elizabeth and I said good-bye. I hated myself for the plans I allowed us to make, our undying promises that we would never be parted again, when I knew that as soon as we left the island it would all be over. Sometimes when I made love to her I was violent, but I couldn’t help myself – my frustration at the futility of our love-making overwhelmed me. I knew there were times when she sensed that things weren’t as they should be between us, but whenever she tried to talk about it, I would laugh and tell her she was imagining it. But as the days passed I felt my love for her turning to a pain so excruciating that I thought it would choke me.