Short of Glory

by Alan Judd

  ‘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.