and consideration,
led me to think that he wanted to marry me. He never said so, but …’ Here,
she broke off, and passed her hands over her eyes.
‘Weeks passed. He was
kind. He held my hand when we walked in the park, he took me to the theatre.
One day he took me to London in his car … but never to his house. I didn’t
mind. I knew that if he married me, his family would be shocked. I waited,
patiently, blinded by my happiness. Then, one day, I saw him as I was carrying
some shopping home from the market.
I saw him and called his
name in the street. He turned around … and I saw that he had a lady on his
arm.
She stopped, her eyes
brimming, and impulsively, I took her hand.
‘I heard the young lady
say: “Who is that woman?”
‘He turned away without
a word, and he said … God, I can still hear it now! “Nobody, darling.”‘
‘Nobody! That’s who I
am, despite my pretty face. Not good enough to earn the respect of a good man.
The beggar maid! You couldn’t have put it better, Daniel. My dear Daniel.’
I tried to comfort her,
but she went on.
‘No! I want you to hear
the whole. I suppose I knew then that all hope was gone, but I couldn’t bear it
to be ended like that. I watched for him on every street; waited in vain for
him to call and explain everything … I think I was still desperate enough to
want to believe any lie, just as long as it could be like it was before … but
he never came. I could not bear to work in the pub again; so I did sewing work
for my landlady … earning just enough to keep myself alive. That woman
was glad, I know it. She knew that something had happened … you cannot begin
to believe the scornful words she heaped upon me … hints … comments … but
I was afraid to leave. I was afraid that no one else would agree to house a
single woman on her own. I drank … alone in my room at night … I
drank gin, like the lowest of sluts. I hated it, but it would appease the
loneliness and the despair a little. Then, one day, I saw him again, coming out
of the theatre with some friends. I was afraid to speak to him, I was shabby,
maybe I had been drinking, I can’t remember. I followed him home. I waited at
the door until the friends had left, I don’t know how long. A long time, I
think. Then I knocked.
‘He didn’t come to the
door straightaway; I was beginning to be afraid that he would not come at all … then I saw him, through the glass of the door. He opened it …looked
at me for a moment. His eyes were cold.
‘“I’m sorry,” he said. “I
don’t know you.” And he closed the door on me. I waited there for a long time,
cold … despairing, until I saw the dawn beginning to rise. I had been there
all night. I never understood why he had changed so much, and not knowing was
worse than anything else. When I came back to my flat, my things were waiting
for me on the doorstep, neatly packed into a bag and a suitcase. I am sure it
must have given her pleasure to do that …to handle and gloat over all
my possessions … to write that little note I found pinned to the door. What
it said, I don’t think I could tell even you, Daniel; though I was innocent, it
shamed me to the core, made me dirty. And so, I went to the river. And
somewhere, there must have been a little pity left in the world, because you
came. You came.’
And then, she did cry — long,
hitching, tearing sobs which bruised my heart — her face in her hands, like a
little girl. I put my arm around her, mumbled sorry, sincere, adolescent words
of comfort to her … felt that jerk of the heart which I never felt before or
since as I held her; that moment of epiphany when she looked up at me and
smiled.
No, I could never have
blamed Robert, even if he had not been my friend, for taking her from me.
Rosemary was the wedge which drove friend from friend, drove the honest man to
crime, the good man to murder. In his place, no doubt I would have done the
same, and sometimes my blood runs cold to
led me to think that he wanted to marry me. He never said so, but …’ Here,
she broke off, and passed her hands over her eyes.
‘Weeks passed. He was
kind. He held my hand when we walked in the park, he took me to the theatre.
One day he took me to London in his car … but never to his house. I didn’t
mind. I knew that if he married me, his family would be shocked. I waited,
patiently, blinded by my happiness. Then, one day, I saw him as I was carrying
some shopping home from the market.
I saw him and called his
name in the street. He turned around … and I saw that he had a lady on his
arm.
She stopped, her eyes
brimming, and impulsively, I took her hand.
‘I heard the young lady
say: “Who is that woman?”
‘He turned away without
a word, and he said … God, I can still hear it now! “Nobody, darling.”‘
‘Nobody! That’s who I
am, despite my pretty face. Not good enough to earn the respect of a good man.
The beggar maid! You couldn’t have put it better, Daniel. My dear Daniel.’
I tried to comfort her,
but she went on.
‘No! I want you to hear
the whole. I suppose I knew then that all hope was gone, but I couldn’t bear it
to be ended like that. I watched for him on every street; waited in vain for
him to call and explain everything … I think I was still desperate enough to
want to believe any lie, just as long as it could be like it was before … but
he never came. I could not bear to work in the pub again; so I did sewing work
for my landlady … earning just enough to keep myself alive. That woman
was glad, I know it. She knew that something had happened … you cannot begin
to believe the scornful words she heaped upon me … hints … comments … but
I was afraid to leave. I was afraid that no one else would agree to house a
single woman on her own. I drank … alone in my room at night … I
drank gin, like the lowest of sluts. I hated it, but it would appease the
loneliness and the despair a little. Then, one day, I saw him again, coming out
of the theatre with some friends. I was afraid to speak to him, I was shabby,
maybe I had been drinking, I can’t remember. I followed him home. I waited at
the door until the friends had left, I don’t know how long. A long time, I
think. Then I knocked.
‘He didn’t come to the
door straightaway; I was beginning to be afraid that he would not come at all … then I saw him, through the glass of the door. He opened it …looked
at me for a moment. His eyes were cold.
‘“I’m sorry,” he said. “I
don’t know you.” And he closed the door on me. I waited there for a long time,
cold … despairing, until I saw the dawn beginning to rise. I had been there
all night. I never understood why he had changed so much, and not knowing was
worse than anything else. When I came back to my flat, my things were waiting
for me on the doorstep, neatly packed into a bag and a suitcase. I am sure it
must have given her pleasure to do that …to handle and gloat over all
my possessions … to write that little note I found pinned to the door. What
it said, I don’t think I could tell even you, Daniel; though I was innocent, it
shamed me to the core, made me dirty. And so, I went to the river. And
somewhere, there must have been a little pity left in the world, because you
came. You came.’
And then, she did cry — long,
hitching, tearing sobs which bruised my heart — her face in her hands, like a
little girl. I put my arm around her, mumbled sorry, sincere, adolescent words
of comfort to her … felt that jerk of the heart which I never felt before or
since as I held her; that moment of epiphany when she looked up at me and
smiled.
No, I could never have
blamed Robert, even if he had not been my friend, for taking her from me.
Rosemary was the wedge which drove friend from friend, drove the honest man to
crime, the good man to murder. In his place, no doubt I would have done the
same, and sometimes my blood runs cold to
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