Coral Glynn

by Peter Cameron

  “Then I have lied to you. Although I do not think it was a lie, because you knew it wasn’t true when I said it.”

  “Of course I did. Why would I not?”

  “Don’t hurt me too much, Clement. Don’t be cruel.”

  Clement said nothing, and once again evaluated his cigar’s progress. “I’m frightened,” he said.

  “Frightened? Of what?”

  “How can I marry her as I am, with my body? It isn’t fair.”

  “What is wrong with your body?”

  “You know: it is not a body to love someone with.”

  “And yet you do.”

  “Do what?”

  “Love someone with it. I think you mean it is not a body someone can love. But I think you are wrong about that as well. At the very least, you cannot know.”

  “I can. I do. My body is repulsive.”

  “To you, perhaps. But you cannot decide for others. Does Coral know you were burnt?”

  “Yes. She asked about my injuries, and I told her.”

  “And yet she has agreed to marry you. Is it really about that that you are worried?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think you are worried about a different aspect of your body.”

  “And what aspect would that be?”

  “I think you know.”

  “I do not. I would not ask you if I did.”

  “I mean the physical aspect. The sexual aspect. The ability of your body—of you—to perform sexually with a woman.”

  “I have done it before.”

  “I know that. You did not keep that a secret from me.”

  “Do you wish that I had?”

  “No,” said Robin. “Of course I do not. I do not wish for any secrets between us.”

  “You have always been so honest and forthright, Robin. You know I am not like that. I wish that I were, but I am not.”

  “You are exactly as you should be. I would not love you so much if you were different.”

  “I feel that I can be with Coral as I am with you. It is something about her gentleness, her goodness. She reminds me of you. Perhaps that is why I love her. It is a chance I must take. If you love me, you must allow me this.”

  Robin said nothing, but got up from his chair and walked around the table. He stood behind Clement’s chair and reached over his shoulder and took the cigar out of Clement’s hand, then rubbed its embers out in the raspberry sauce on Clement’s dessert plate. He lay the cigar on the plate and then embraced Clement from behind, reaching his arms around Clement’s shoulders, crossing them, and grasping the two soft mounds of Clement’s chest in his hands. Clement sat stiffly. Robin lay his head on Clement’s left shoulder so that his lips just grazed the skin of Clement’s cheek. Finally, Clement reached up one of his hands and held it against one of Robin’s and Robin felt his friend’s body relax within his embrace, and he held the warmth and softness of Clement in his arms until they heard Dolly and Coral approaching, and by the time the two women entered the room Robin was back in his seat and Clement was holding his bloodied cigar.

  * * *

  When the taxi had passed through the gates of Eustacia Villa and was travelling along the country road, Major Hart reached across the backseat and found Coral’s hand in the dark. He squeezed it and then laced his fingers through hers. He looked at her, but she was staring out the window.

  “Darling, you were lovely,” he said. “Robin said you’re the nicest girl he’s met in ages. Did you like them?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “They’re very nice.”

  “Did you have a nice chat with Dolly?”

  “Yes,” said Coral. “Very nice.”

  “Oh, good. I do hope you’ll be friends. Dolly’s a bit too chattery for my taste, but she’s a nice enough girl. But Robin—he’s the decentest chap I know. It will be nice to have them beside us when we’re married, won’t it, darling?”

  “Very nice,” Coral said, wondering at the Major’s sudden proclivity for endearments. It was as if his version of their romance had sped past hers and was careering forwards, leaving her stranded in the dust at the side of the road. Perhaps it was merely that he had drunk too much. In any case, it was not unpleasant. She turned her hand over and clasped the Major’s. “Could we get married sooner than next month?”

  “I suppose,” said the Major. “But next month is rather soon.”

  “I think we should do it sooner,” said Coral. She thought: Dolly can do up my dress. I can get the dress back tomorrow; the woman can’t have sold it with the torn seam. “Now that everything is settled—I mean the dress, and the witnesses—I don’t like waiting. It makes me anxious, and staying at The Black Swan … it feels so unsettled.”

  “You want to be at home,” said the Major. “Our home.”

  “Yes,” said Coral. “So mightn’t we do it sooner? As soon as we’re possibly able?”

  “How about Saturday next? That gives us a week to settle things.”

  “But what is there to settle?”

  “Well, there’s Dolly and Robin, for one thing. And I want to plan a proper wedding luncheon, at the Swan. And a wedding trip, perhaps.”

  “A luncheon—for whom?”

  “Well, for us, of course. And Dolly and Robin. And Mrs Prence. I believe it is customary to invite the magistrate. And of course anyone you would like to invite.”

  “Could we have flowers? A bouquet, and boutonnieres, I mean, and perhaps some on the table, at the luncheon?”

  “That is precisely the kind of thing we need a day or two settle,” said the Major. “We must have the absolute best flowers.”

  “I’ve met the boy at the flower shop. He was quite friendly to me. Perhaps we might invite him?”

  “To do the flowers, you mean?”

  “No. Well, yes. But also to the luncheon. And Mrs Henderson at the dress shop.” If I invite her to the luncheon, Coral thought, she will have to be kind to me about mending the dress.

  “I don’t think it’s customary to have tradespeople at a wedding luncheon.”

  “But they’re not,” said Coral. “I mean, perhaps they are, but they’ve been so kind to me, and I have no friends at all here. And you have Dolly and Robin—”

  “They are your friends now,” said the Major.

  “Yes, but not— Oh, please let me invite them. It will make it more of a party, won’t it?”

  “Well, Mrs Henderson, perhaps, but I hardly think we need the boy from the flower shop.”

  “But why not him—if we have Mrs Henderson?”

  “It’s just that—the boy from the flower shop … It will seem very odd to everyone, I think.”

  “Odd? Why?”

  “Coral, be reasonable. This is to be our wedding luncheon. One usually invites one’s close friends and family.”

  “I realise that. But I have no close friends or family. Only people who have been friendly to me, like Mrs Henderson and John.”

  “And I said you might invite Mrs Henderson.”

  “But not John? It makes no sense to me.”

  “You may not realise these things, but there is a difference between a woman who owns a dress shop and a boy who works in a flower shop.”

  “And what is the difference?”

  “I cannot explain it to you. It is something one either knows or doesn’t.”

  “Is it about class? I am no better than the boy in the flower shop, if it comes to that. My father worked at that post office.”

  “It has nothing to do with class.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Can’t we simply agree not to have the boy from the flower shop at our wedding luncheon?”

  “I have told you, his name is John. John Shields.”

  “It makes no difference what his name is.”

  “Then what is the difference? Is it the difference between women working in dress shops and men working in flower shops?”

  Clement sighed. “There is no difference. Invite John Shields, and Mrs
Henderson, and whomever else you would like to have. It will make for a strange party, but if it will make you happy, I see no reason not to. Let people talk. They always do.”

  “Yes,” said Coral. “They do.”

  * * *

  How about a nightcap in the bar?” the Major asked as the taxi drew up in front of The Black Swan.

  Coral was too tired to think of a decent way of refusing this proposal. “What about the taxi?” she said.

  “Oh, Allard will wait for me, won’t you, Allard? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Certainly, sir,” said Allard.

  “I’ll stand you a pint if you’d like,” said the Major.

  “Thank you, but no, sir. I don’t drink on the job.”

  “Very wise of you,” said the Major.

  A few travelling salesmen were sitting at the bar. The tables were all empty, and the Major and Coral sat at one built into a wood-panelled nook. “I fancy a pint of ale after that disgusting treacle Robin served us. What about you, darling?”

  “Just a lemonade, please,” she said.

  “Are you sure? You wouldn’t like a glass of ale?”

  “Perhaps just a glass,” Coral said.

  “Righty-o,” said the Major.

  While he was standing at the bar, Mrs Raleigh, the proprietress of The Black Swan, entered the bar and approached their nook. “Good evening, Miss Glynn,” she said.

  Coral said good evening.

  “I feel it is my duty to tell you that the police were here this evening, wanting to have a word with you.”

  “The police!”

  “Yes,” said Mrs Raleigh. “They wanted to talk to you about the girl found in the woods. You’ve heard about it, haven’t you? A little girl hanged by her neck and cut to pieces. Out in the Sap Green Forest.”

  The Major returned and placed a tumbler of ale in front Coral and sat down across from her, holding his pint. “Good evening, Mrs Raleigh,” he said.

  “Good evening, Major Hart,” said Mrs Raleigh. “I was just letting Miss Glynn know that the police have been here this evening, wanting a word with her. And yourself as well, for that matter.”

  “Good heavens! The police! Whatever about?”

  “About the girl found hanging in the woods. Haven’t you heard, Major?”

  “I saw something in the paper.”

  “A little girl hanged by her neck out in the Sap Green Forest. Quite near your house, Major, so of course Inspector Hoke would like to speak with you all.”

  “Of course,” said the Major.

  “Wants to know if you saw anything fishy, I presume. He’s already had a word with Mrs Prence.”

  “We would be happy to speak with the constable.”

  “I don’t think ‘happy’s’ the word, Major Hart, under the circumstances.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Mrs Raleigh. It’s shocking.”

  “Horrifying, I call it. A sweet little girl brutally murdered. What’s the world coming to, I ask you?”

  “Well, it’s certainly not the world it was,” said the Major. “We can agree on that.”

  “Everything’s gone topsy-turvy since the war,” said Mrs Raleigh. “I blame it all on Mr Hitler.”

  “Well, he must certainly take his fair share of the blame,” said the Major.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t look twice at a little girl hanged from a tree.”

  “I think we’re upsetting Miss Glynn, Mrs Raleigh,” the Major said.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon, Major. I’ll leave you be. The constable said he would be here first thing in the morning.”

  “Very well,” said the Major. “Good night, Mrs Raleigh—and thank you.”

  “Good night, Major. Good night, Miss Glynn. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  “Not at all,” Coral said. “Good night.”

  Mrs Raleigh had a word with the barman and left the room.

  “What nasty business,” said the Major. “Did she upset you, darling?”

  Coral found the Major’s penchant for endearments more upsetting than anything Mrs Raleigh had said. “No,” she said. “It’s just the police … They upset me.”

  “What, don’t tell me you’re on the run from them!” the Major chuckled. “Well, it’s just a word with us they want. Have to do their jobs, you know.”

  “Yes,” said Coral. “I suppose they do.”

  * * *

  Robin stayed downstairs and drank for a while, then went up to bed. He was surprised to see the door to Dolly’s room open, and light spilt into the hallway. He paused in the doorway and looked into the room. Dolly sat upright in the bed, reading a book, the dogs deflated atop the coverlet. “Darling,” she said when she saw him standing there.

  “I thought you’d be asleep,” he said.

  “I’m reading the new Ruby Ferguson. I think I shall be up half the night. Come, sit with me a moment.” She pushed one of the dogs aside and patted the spot beside on her bed.

  “I’m tired,” said Robin. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your book.”

  “No, darling,” said Dolly. “Come and sit. Just for a bit.”

  He paused for a moment and then entered the room. He sat somewhat awkwardly upon the bed, one foot on the floor and the other dangling off its side. Dolly lay the book splayed down upon her lap and reached out and touched Robin’s face. “Darling,” she said.

  He moved his head so that his cheek fit more perfectly into her curved palm and tried to smile.

  “Oh, darling,” she said. “You’re sad, aren’t you?”

  “No,” said Robin. “Why would I be sad?”

  “You lost him a long time ago,” said Dolly, “but you feel you’re losing him again.”

  “No,” said Robin. “I’m happy for him. It’s all very jolly.”

  “Oh, darling,” said Dolly. “Lie down beside me. Just for a while.” She reached over and turned out the bedside lamp and it was dark in the room, only a faint glow of light from the hallway that reached only as far as the foot of the bed. Dolly scooted over and rearranged the dogs. Robin removed his shoes and lay down atop the coverlet. Dolly reached out and put her arm around him and drew him closer, so that his head lay upon her breast. She played with his hair. For a moment neither of them said anything. Except for the wheezing breath of the dogs, there was no sound.

  And then Robin said, “What did you think of her?”

  “She’s like a little mouse,” said Dolly. “A frightened little mouse.”

  “Is she pretty?” asked Robin.

  Dolly thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “But in a very ordinary way.”

  “Clement is besotted with her, I think.”

  “Of course he is, darling. Poor Clement. He’d fall in love with a laughing hyena if it walked into the house.”

  “No,” said Robin. “He loves her, I think.”

  “It’s what I just said,” said Dolly.

  “But you meant not really,” said Robin. “I think he does. Really.”

  “And it makes you sad, doesn’t it?” asked Dolly.

  “Perhaps,” said Robin. “A little.”

  “I can see how you’re disappointed. Poor Robin. Poor, darling Robin.”

  “Don’t,” said Robin.

  “But I shall,” said Dolly. “Poor, darling Robin. My poor, darling Robin. Sleep here with me tonight. Be a good boy.” She placed her hand upon his forehead and stroked the hair away from his face. “Will you sleep here with me tonight?” she asked. “Please?”

  “Yes,” Robin said. He sat up and stood beside the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked down the hallway into his room and changed into his pyjamas. Then he used the toilet and brushed his teeth. He shook a few drops of Penhaligon’s Blenheim Bouquet into his hands, patted his cheeks, and then ran his hands through his hair. In the mirror he still looked very handsome. He smiled at himself because he had good teeth and was more handsome when he smiled.

  Dolly had pushed the dogs off the bed and had m
oved to the far side, where she lay facing away from him. There was something impressive about the landscape her body created, something formidable and noble. She had turned the covers back for him and he climbed into bed and curled himself against her. He reached his arm around her and she clutched his hand and clasped it to her breast. They both felt his cock growing hard. In a moment, he knew, she would turn to him, weeping, for she always wept on those rare occasions when they made love.

  * * *

  Coral was still in bed when she heard a knock on the door. She got out of bed, put on her robe, and opened the door. A maid stood in the hallway. “Good morning, miss,” she said.

  Coral said good morning.

  “Beg pardon for disturbing you, miss, but Mrs Raleigh says to tell you Inspector Hoke is here. He’d like to speak with you.”

  “Thank you,” said Coral. “Tell them I will be down in just a moment.”

  “Very good, miss.” The maid scurried away.

  Coral waited until she was gone and then went down the hall and used the toilet. She returned to her room, dressed, put her hair up, and then looked at herself in the mirror. She looked slightly different to herself: older, and perhaps a little harder.

  * * *

  That’s her,” Coral heard a voice say as she rounded the bend in the staircase.

  Mrs Raleigh and the policeman were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  The policeman held out his hand. “Miss Glynn? How do you do? I’m Inspector Hoke.”

  She shook his hand. “Good morning,” she said. “Good morning, Mrs Raleigh.”

  “Yes,” said Mrs Raleigh, agreeing with, rather than reciprocating, the greeting.

  “Is Major Hart here?” Coral asked.

  “No,” said Inspector Hoke. “I have arranged to speak with him later this morning at Hart House. But I shall take this opportunity to speak with you alone, Miss Glynn. Surely you have no objection to that?”

  “No,” said Coral. “None at all.”

  “Very well. If you’ll follow me, Mrs Raleigh has kindly allowed us to use her office.” He indicated an open door behind the reception desk.

  Coral, who assumed all official people spoke literally, did not move.

  “After you,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. You said to follow you…”

  “Merely a figure of speech,” he said. “Ladies first.”