The Realms of Gold by Margaret Drabble Page B

special, eccentric cold burnished leafy metallic dead but promising beauty. A countryside tamed but burning. She kept her hand on his knee. A lovely afternoon it was, a lovely evening it would be. Karel’s lecture had gone well: her friend had been helpful. She should wash Spike’s hair when they got back, then they would have spaghetti carbonara for supper, and some salad, and go to bed early. Thinking of the spaghetti, she realized how hungry she was, and as though reading her mind, he said, ‘Let’s stop, shall we, for acup of tea?’
    They stopped at a cafe by the roadside: standing at the counter, Karel ordered two teas, one with and one without, and she saw him looking hungrily at the sandwiches, and hunger overcame her too, for the sandwiches (unlike the doughnuts and the fruit pies) looked so delicious, and she and Karel looked at one another, by the formica-topped counter, and both hesitated, and he said, ‘Shall we have one, then?’ and she said, ‘Yes
please
.’
    All the sandwiches looked so good that they could not decide which to get. Cheese and chutney, cheese and tomato, ham? She watched him, as he examined the sandwiches in their several-storied glass steel-rimmed box.
    â€˜I love you, Karel,’ she said. ‘I really love you.’
    â€˜Do you, my darling?’ he said. ‘Shall we have cheese and tomato?’
    She had never enjoyed a sandwich so much in her life. Sitting together at the small table amongst the ketchup bottles.
    â€˜There’s nothing like a sandwich, is there,’ said Karel, after a pause, ‘when it’s what one really wants?’
    They looked down at the two halves on the plate, each with large bites taken out of the soft white bread, lying together. Both had taken identical-sized bites.
    â€˜I enjoyed deciding to buy this sandwich,’ said Karel. ‘And now I’m going to enjoy eating it.’
    And hearing him speak, she shivered slightly, as though a moment of intense joy had come to its proper completion, and it occurred to her that she had never been as happy in her life as she was there, sitting at that shabby table gazing through a white net curtain at the A3, with two half-eaten sandwiches in front of her, signifying union. To have it was one thing: to know one was having it was something else, more than one could ever have hoped for.
    Of such things did life consist. She enjoyed it all. At times she said to herself, it’s so good it can’t last; but not very often. There was no reason why one should not enjoy sandwiches and love forever. Unlike some pleasures, they seemed to have no inbuilt destructive elements.
    Â 
    There were, however, other elements in the affair that were destructive, of course. They became more obtrusive with time, though at first she hardly noticed them. The chief of these elements was Karel’s wife. Frances had little idea what his relations with her were, and did not intend to upset herself by inquiring more closely: she resolutely ignored the guilt she at times suffered. But she was compelled, after a year or two, to notice that the wife existed, and that Karel did not seem to intend to leave her. Frances had never expected him to. She was used to admiring men who didn’t want to leave their wives. Unlike most of them, Karel did leave his wife from time to time, and came to live with Frances, but then he would go back home again. He seemed eager to keep everybody happy. As he was successfully keeping her happy, Frances accepted his arrivals and disappearances without question. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to come and live with her permanently. She was all right on her own. And he was, in his own way, thoroughly reliable: even if he went away, at least he always came back again, which is more than one could say of most people. And she had to go away herself, quite often for professional reasons, so why should she complain? The strange tempo of their