be gone: to prolong the appalling horror of her departure—a horror so appalling that she could not face it, but had hidden from her grief behind a storm of activity—was out of the question. She would leave him a note. She began to write.
Last Minute
1. Boxes marked Oxfam under window in bedroom.
2. Three other boxes of my gear in wardrobe, to be called for asap.
3. Don’t forget to leave out wages for Mrs Brick on Weds. mornings—£20 (in cash).
She took the last load of laundry from the dryer and packed it and was ready to leave. First she would just take everything down to the entrance hall; then ring for a taxi. And that would be that. She put the front door on the latch and carried the first box downstairs.
As she was coming down with the second box she met Jonathan on the stairs.
‘Oh!’
‘I was just leaving.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ll be back for the suitcase in a minute.’
She continued on her way and then ascended the stairs once more and entered the flat. Jonathan was hovering in the sitting room.
‘I’ll just call a taxi,’ she said; she picked up the receiver.
‘I could take you,’ Jonathan said.
She glanced at him and began to telephone for the taxi; then she looked up again. ‘Drop dead,’ she said.
Five minutes, the taxi controller told her. She hung up.
‘I’ve left you a note,’ she said, ‘on the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure you’d get back before I left. There’s nothing more to say.’
The telephone rang; she picked up the receiver and listened and after a word of thanks hung up.
‘That’s the taxi,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Jonathan.’
She walked over to the doorway and picked up the suitcase.
‘Let me take that down for you,’ he said.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I can manage it easily. Goodbye.’
And she was out of the front door, and had closed it behind her, and was gone, just like that.
The driver helped her with the boxes and then they were off. She sat back in the rear of the taxi, looking at the gay and carefree Saturday crowds thronging the streets all the way across the Royal Borough, and then they were on the Albert Bridge crossing the mysterious Thames, and then they were in the otherworld of south-of-the-river, and Nicola, stricken almost unto death, sat there, immobile, incredulous, her broken heart thumping, thumping, her hands curled into fists so that she should not even begin to cry.
42
‘Just go straight inside, darling—no one’s there, Geoffrey’s taken Guy to his riding lesson—I’ll get the luggage.’
Nicola went into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa and buried her face—down which as soon as Susannah had opened the front door her tears had started to stream—her terrible, strange, stricken face, in her crossed arms, and wept. Here were all the tears she had not shed during this terrible week: all the tears, for all the horror which had come upon her, and which, unendurable as it was, had to be nonetheless experienced. Then Susannah was with her. She cried for a very long time; Susannah had never heard a sound so utterly bereft. At last her tears subsided and she looked up, her expression hopeless and beaten.
‘I think I might just pop over to Notting Hill and kill him now,’ said Susannah matter-of-factly. ‘Do you want to come with me, or would you rather wait here?’
Nicola tried to smile. ‘Hasn’t Geoffrey taken the car?’ she said.
‘Oh, yes, I was forgetting. We’ll have to wait until they get back. That won’t be for another hour or so. They might stay out for lunch. Well, we’ll have plenty of time to have a nice cup of tea first. And something to eat.’
‘Just tea,’ said Nicola. ‘I can’t eat anything.’
‘Just a slice of ham? Nice ham from the bone? On a very thin slice of bread? With the tiniest dab of mustard? And just one weeny leaf of cress? Just to please me.’
Nicola managed to laugh, and then tears started coming out of her eyes again. ‘What would I do without you,’ she
Last Minute
1. Boxes marked Oxfam under window in bedroom.
2. Three other boxes of my gear in wardrobe, to be called for asap.
3. Don’t forget to leave out wages for Mrs Brick on Weds. mornings—£20 (in cash).
She took the last load of laundry from the dryer and packed it and was ready to leave. First she would just take everything down to the entrance hall; then ring for a taxi. And that would be that. She put the front door on the latch and carried the first box downstairs.
As she was coming down with the second box she met Jonathan on the stairs.
‘Oh!’
‘I was just leaving.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’ll be back for the suitcase in a minute.’
She continued on her way and then ascended the stairs once more and entered the flat. Jonathan was hovering in the sitting room.
‘I’ll just call a taxi,’ she said; she picked up the receiver.
‘I could take you,’ Jonathan said.
She glanced at him and began to telephone for the taxi; then she looked up again. ‘Drop dead,’ she said.
Five minutes, the taxi controller told her. She hung up.
‘I’ve left you a note,’ she said, ‘on the kitchen table. I wasn’t sure you’d get back before I left. There’s nothing more to say.’
The telephone rang; she picked up the receiver and listened and after a word of thanks hung up.
‘That’s the taxi,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Jonathan.’
She walked over to the doorway and picked up the suitcase.
‘Let me take that down for you,’ he said.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I can manage it easily. Goodbye.’
And she was out of the front door, and had closed it behind her, and was gone, just like that.
The driver helped her with the boxes and then they were off. She sat back in the rear of the taxi, looking at the gay and carefree Saturday crowds thronging the streets all the way across the Royal Borough, and then they were on the Albert Bridge crossing the mysterious Thames, and then they were in the otherworld of south-of-the-river, and Nicola, stricken almost unto death, sat there, immobile, incredulous, her broken heart thumping, thumping, her hands curled into fists so that she should not even begin to cry.
42
‘Just go straight inside, darling—no one’s there, Geoffrey’s taken Guy to his riding lesson—I’ll get the luggage.’
Nicola went into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa and buried her face—down which as soon as Susannah had opened the front door her tears had started to stream—her terrible, strange, stricken face, in her crossed arms, and wept. Here were all the tears she had not shed during this terrible week: all the tears, for all the horror which had come upon her, and which, unendurable as it was, had to be nonetheless experienced. Then Susannah was with her. She cried for a very long time; Susannah had never heard a sound so utterly bereft. At last her tears subsided and she looked up, her expression hopeless and beaten.
‘I think I might just pop over to Notting Hill and kill him now,’ said Susannah matter-of-factly. ‘Do you want to come with me, or would you rather wait here?’
Nicola tried to smile. ‘Hasn’t Geoffrey taken the car?’ she said.
‘Oh, yes, I was forgetting. We’ll have to wait until they get back. That won’t be for another hour or so. They might stay out for lunch. Well, we’ll have plenty of time to have a nice cup of tea first. And something to eat.’
‘Just tea,’ said Nicola. ‘I can’t eat anything.’
‘Just a slice of ham? Nice ham from the bone? On a very thin slice of bread? With the tiniest dab of mustard? And just one weeny leaf of cress? Just to please me.’
Nicola managed to laugh, and then tears started coming out of her eyes again. ‘What would I do without you,’ she
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