relaxed against him, kind masculine friend to whom one could confide so much but never would. So she was still attractive to him: a comfort; had often wondered if he remembered that never since mentioned episode in the Vances’ garden the night of Sylvia’s coming-out dance. Almost her first house party and her frock split at the waist. Fairy lights in the trees, a bush of syringa they’d buried their faces in, his anticipated but in the event unbargained-for embrace which, shaken in her self-respect, she had discussed next morning in her bedroom with a girl friend. ‘I’m afraid he’s very physical.’ ‘How far did he go ?’‘Well … I can only say I hope I’ll never be kissed like that again.’ ‘Perhaps you ought to have slapped his face?’ ‘Perhaps I ought.’ ‘You don’t think you encouraged him?’ ‘Certainly not. ’‘And you didn’t sort of enjoy it?’ ‘No, not at all .’Hysterical gales of giggling, comparing notes and agreeing that men must have desires completely unknown to women, and thoroughly distasteful. Next year when after a few weeks only of part-tearful, part-ecstatic sensations of inevitability, she had got engaged, he had written her a letter saying: Darling Madeleine: congratulations. Rickie is a very lucky man. Ah me!— which she had taken as a pleasing delicate hint that he hadn’t forgotten, or dismissed that incident in a cynical way; and ever since she had felt with him a secret emotional security; almost as if in some half dream, unanalysed, on the threshold of experience, he had taken, without violence, her virginity.
And he’s never been able to stand Dinah—thought Rickie must be out of his senses: Clara had said as much at the time of the worst trouble—another consolation … Oh, she could tell him anything. She would tell him now, he would give her sound advice. She looked up suddenly with her great blue-black dilated eyes, her foreheadpuckered.
‘What’s the big worry, my sweet?’ He gave her another hug.
‘I am worried. Oh, Tim, it’s Rickie. What am I to do?’
He looked blank, bending his ear down towards her lips. ‘Couldn’t catch.’
‘You’re too tall. You never do hear what I say.’
‘I always hear what you say. But the band makes such an infernal row. Try again.’
‘I said I was wondering what to do.’
‘What to do about what, my love?’
‘Wondering where he is. Rickie.’
‘Wondering where he is?’ He looked at her in simple astonishment. ‘Why, just about tucked up in bed by now, I should hope.’
‘Do you think so? I don’t. I can’t somehow picture it. But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps that’s where he is—tucked up and sleeping peacefully.’
But no, it was implausible. Something cataclysmic had occurred, too terrible to explain. Before her eyes he had performed an act of total rejection, stepped over the dance floor into limbo. She had no bearings now.
‘Even supposing he walked home,’ said Tim, ‘it couldn’t have taken him more than fifteen minutes. But he’d take a cab surely if he was feeling a bit queasy?’
‘I don’t know what he did.’ Direction, goal, motive all equally unpredictable. And after all she could not tell Tim anything. She had cried out to him: ‘I don’t know what to do’—a cry from the heart, and he had not even heard her. A grotesque flop—ironic. ‘But sweetie,’ she went on, ‘I think I’ll disappear. You do understand, don’t you? I know it’s fussy but I’ve slightly lost my nerve since he had that haemorrhage. I’m glad we had this’—she lightly caressed his shoulder—‘but now I’d like to go. Explain to Clara. I’ll give her a ring in the morning.’
This sort of appeal, to his sentimental protectiveness, was what he most enjoyed. Deprecating her wifely anxiety yet responsive to it, he escorted her out with his arm through hers, summoned her taxi and, as she leaned out from it for one more grateful farewell, dipped his sleek head in and kissed
And he’s never been able to stand Dinah—thought Rickie must be out of his senses: Clara had said as much at the time of the worst trouble—another consolation … Oh, she could tell him anything. She would tell him now, he would give her sound advice. She looked up suddenly with her great blue-black dilated eyes, her foreheadpuckered.
‘What’s the big worry, my sweet?’ He gave her another hug.
‘I am worried. Oh, Tim, it’s Rickie. What am I to do?’
He looked blank, bending his ear down towards her lips. ‘Couldn’t catch.’
‘You’re too tall. You never do hear what I say.’
‘I always hear what you say. But the band makes such an infernal row. Try again.’
‘I said I was wondering what to do.’
‘What to do about what, my love?’
‘Wondering where he is. Rickie.’
‘Wondering where he is?’ He looked at her in simple astonishment. ‘Why, just about tucked up in bed by now, I should hope.’
‘Do you think so? I don’t. I can’t somehow picture it. But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps that’s where he is—tucked up and sleeping peacefully.’
But no, it was implausible. Something cataclysmic had occurred, too terrible to explain. Before her eyes he had performed an act of total rejection, stepped over the dance floor into limbo. She had no bearings now.
‘Even supposing he walked home,’ said Tim, ‘it couldn’t have taken him more than fifteen minutes. But he’d take a cab surely if he was feeling a bit queasy?’
‘I don’t know what he did.’ Direction, goal, motive all equally unpredictable. And after all she could not tell Tim anything. She had cried out to him: ‘I don’t know what to do’—a cry from the heart, and he had not even heard her. A grotesque flop—ironic. ‘But sweetie,’ she went on, ‘I think I’ll disappear. You do understand, don’t you? I know it’s fussy but I’ve slightly lost my nerve since he had that haemorrhage. I’m glad we had this’—she lightly caressed his shoulder—‘but now I’d like to go. Explain to Clara. I’ll give her a ring in the morning.’
This sort of appeal, to his sentimental protectiveness, was what he most enjoyed. Deprecating her wifely anxiety yet responsive to it, he escorted her out with his arm through hers, summoned her taxi and, as she leaned out from it for one more grateful farewell, dipped his sleek head in and kissed
Similar Books
