gaol, owing to Birkin’s illness! Bevin should have done his whack on the Western Front as a foot soldier.”
“It’s the politicians who start wars.”
“Or Geography. Geopolitics!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied shortly. Then, “‘Buster’ said he saw the Russian Generals when they called on Sholto Douglas—great square shoulders—granite faces —‘Buster’ said ‘God help us if they ever become our enemies’.”
“Don’t forget we’ve got the atom bomb Laura.”
“Oh, go to hell, you bloody Geopolitician!” She turned away her face; then slid to him and pulled down his head to hold to her breast. “No,” she whispered, “No, my master, no! ‘For, lo! The winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land’.” She led him by the hand to a corner. “Lie you down on my bed, and I’ll play you something.Do you know, in Parsifal, where the Grail music glows and throbs as the pilgrims are going through the forest?” She knelt by the bed, hands on his shoulders, cheek to chest. “I am Kundry, you are Parsifal. Don’t let me die alone at the end! You know, Phillip, that poor girl didn’t want to be bad. She had no one to love her. If she had, she would have seen God plain. No, no, you must not swim with your eyes! You must not be like me.” She covered him with a blanket, and going behind a curtain, dressed in her day clothes; while Phillip lay on the bed, wanting to relax, but depressed because he did not feel able to make love to her—or want to.
She came to the bed, and almost hopped beside him. The way to the genitals, Blake’s ‘beauty’, was through a woman’s hair. Clasp her head, stroke her hair, feeling her sweetness. Such tenderness . How different from his other meetings with her years ago. Then she who was locked fast; now, unlocked.
“Have you ever been in love, Laura? I mean apart from the Sikh soldier?”
“Of course I’ve had lovers! But each time something in me seems to repel men. When I first left home I used to sleep with any boy who wanted me. Sometimes I didn’t even know his Christian name. In the morning I’d leave him, and never want to see him again. The man I really loved was that Sikh from the Punjab, who mistook Melissa for me. He was sweet. But in the end he wanted to own me, as his possession. So I broke it off. Like you, my real life is my imagination.”
“So is everyone’s.”
“Men want to own a woman. They want to be supported. A blood transfusion to keep them alive in their activities, careers, ambitions. I suppose what I want is a wife, like you want one. I can be friends with women—one is free, then. I really love Melissa, she’s free, too. She understands that women are people. She loves you. I know, although she never said so. Phillip, when you see her, you won’t tell her what I said, will you?”
He shook his head. She curled herself beside him. “Oh, I do love you so. Let’s go to sleep, and then I’ll get some lunch and we’ll go for a walk to Kensington Gardens, shall we? I go there most days. It’s so lovely, to be able to walk on grass.”
She sighed deeply, put an arm round him, and snuggled up, murmuring, “Your Ariel feels safe, O my master. And Kundry need not die now,” she sighed.
“Do you, too, want to die sometimes?”
“Often. O my love, you are the air I breathe.” A few moments later, “What are you thinking now. I can feel you thinking. You have shut yourself away from me.”
He was thinking of Billy, who had loved him, and how he had alienated Billy’s love, and was Billy crying out to him when he fell from his aircraft returning from Eastern Europe and knew he would never see his home again? And from Billy he thought of Jewish boys and girls, white-faced and quiet, being herded into gas-chambers; and of German boys being shot or hanged as the soul of
“It’s the politicians who start wars.”
“Or Geography. Geopolitics!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied shortly. Then, “‘Buster’ said he saw the Russian Generals when they called on Sholto Douglas—great square shoulders—granite faces —‘Buster’ said ‘God help us if they ever become our enemies’.”
“Don’t forget we’ve got the atom bomb Laura.”
“Oh, go to hell, you bloody Geopolitician!” She turned away her face; then slid to him and pulled down his head to hold to her breast. “No,” she whispered, “No, my master, no! ‘For, lo! The winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land’.” She led him by the hand to a corner. “Lie you down on my bed, and I’ll play you something.Do you know, in Parsifal, where the Grail music glows and throbs as the pilgrims are going through the forest?” She knelt by the bed, hands on his shoulders, cheek to chest. “I am Kundry, you are Parsifal. Don’t let me die alone at the end! You know, Phillip, that poor girl didn’t want to be bad. She had no one to love her. If she had, she would have seen God plain. No, no, you must not swim with your eyes! You must not be like me.” She covered him with a blanket, and going behind a curtain, dressed in her day clothes; while Phillip lay on the bed, wanting to relax, but depressed because he did not feel able to make love to her—or want to.
She came to the bed, and almost hopped beside him. The way to the genitals, Blake’s ‘beauty’, was through a woman’s hair. Clasp her head, stroke her hair, feeling her sweetness. Such tenderness . How different from his other meetings with her years ago. Then she who was locked fast; now, unlocked.
“Have you ever been in love, Laura? I mean apart from the Sikh soldier?”
“Of course I’ve had lovers! But each time something in me seems to repel men. When I first left home I used to sleep with any boy who wanted me. Sometimes I didn’t even know his Christian name. In the morning I’d leave him, and never want to see him again. The man I really loved was that Sikh from the Punjab, who mistook Melissa for me. He was sweet. But in the end he wanted to own me, as his possession. So I broke it off. Like you, my real life is my imagination.”
“So is everyone’s.”
“Men want to own a woman. They want to be supported. A blood transfusion to keep them alive in their activities, careers, ambitions. I suppose what I want is a wife, like you want one. I can be friends with women—one is free, then. I really love Melissa, she’s free, too. She understands that women are people. She loves you. I know, although she never said so. Phillip, when you see her, you won’t tell her what I said, will you?”
He shook his head. She curled herself beside him. “Oh, I do love you so. Let’s go to sleep, and then I’ll get some lunch and we’ll go for a walk to Kensington Gardens, shall we? I go there most days. It’s so lovely, to be able to walk on grass.”
She sighed deeply, put an arm round him, and snuggled up, murmuring, “Your Ariel feels safe, O my master. And Kundry need not die now,” she sighed.
“Do you, too, want to die sometimes?”
“Often. O my love, you are the air I breathe.” A few moments later, “What are you thinking now. I can feel you thinking. You have shut yourself away from me.”
He was thinking of Billy, who had loved him, and how he had alienated Billy’s love, and was Billy crying out to him when he fell from his aircraft returning from Eastern Europe and knew he would never see his home again? And from Billy he thought of Jewish boys and girls, white-faced and quiet, being herded into gas-chambers; and of German boys being shot or hanged as the soul of
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