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Authors: Yelena Kopylova

the maltese angel (63 page)

BOOK: the maltese angel
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As he lit the lamp she undid the paper and looked down on what, if it had been bound, would be the flyleaf of a book, and the heading was,

"Conscience Crucified'. And: underneath was a pen and ink drawing of the Three Crucifixions. She looked up at him and said, " You're ..

you're giving this to me? You're not having it published? "

5l9

"No. No, I told you I wasn't having it published. And, although I am giving it to you, I would urge you not to read it for some time. Put it aside as one of those useless Christmas boxes that one gets, say, for about another year."

"Why?"

"Why?" He looked up towards the low smoke-dyed ceiling and repeated again, "Why? Well because I don't want your emotions to be torn to shreds by the wailings of a conscientious objector."

"They've already been torn to shreds by the waitings of a conscientious objector."

"Huh! Huh!" He was chuckling now.

"I've never known anyone in my life to come back with answers to a statement that asks for further questioning. But in this case I am not going to ask you the question about your emotions."

"No, because you're afraid to."

"Now, now, Janie, don't start. We made a pact some time ago.

Remember? "

"Yes, I remember, and that pact was we were to be friends. But friends can talk plainly to each other, otherwise they are not friends but just acquaintances who have to be polite and probably lie while doing so.

Anyway, it's my birthday and you've given me a present. I ... well, there's something else I want."

"Something else?"

"Yes, something else."

"Well, what is it?"

"I want to be engaged."

He screwed up his face.

"Engaged? Engaged in what?"

She was on her feet now and actually yelling at him, "Don't be so damned stupid! I want to be engaged to you!"

"What? You must be ... this is romantic nonsense, girl. You are seventeen years old and I'm nearing forty. Stop it! Stop it! Stop M

" I won't stop it, and you don't want me to stop it; you are just covering up again. You'll marry me some time, so it might as well be soon. "

"I'll ... I'll not marry you some time." He now held both hands up before his face, though not touching it. It was as if he were putting a shield between them. And when she grabbed them, saying, "You know that our ages have nothing to do with it. You love me, you always

have. And I look back and I cannot remember the time when I started to love you, nor the time when I will ever stop."

It sounded like a whimper.

"Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, 0 Lord, Lord ..."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing! Nothing! Only remembering something that someone said, and I'm appealing to Him now to keep me sane, or, what is more important, to bring you to your senses."

When she stepped back from him his hands slowly dropped to his sides and, looking at her, he said, "You'll never know how much I ... I am more than honoured, but I can't let you throw your young and clean life away."

"Will you stop talking like some character out of a book? We're standing facing the truth in this awful little cottage." She now flicked her hand to the side.

"I am seventeen and you are thirty-seven and you love me. And what's more, you need me. And I love you and I want you, and it will come about some time. I know it will. And you in your heart want it to

come about. And now, please, please, Gerald, hold me, just hold me."

He did not raise his arms towards her until she lay against his chest, her head under his chin; and then he was holding her, every fibre of his body shaking as he pressed her to him. And then he kept repeating her name, Oh' Janie Oh. Janie Myjanie! Oh' Janie And when her brow became wet she looked up at his face to see it aflood with tears,

silent tears. And now

she beseeched him, "Oh, don't cry. Don't cry, my love. Please, please don't cry."

But he went on crying and now taking her with him, he stumbled towards the couch, then dropped on to it. And when his crying became audible, she beseeched him, "Gerald! Gerald! Listen to me, it's all right. I'm sorry. Please!"

But between loud agonising sobs he gulped out, "Let me cry, my love, let me cry. I ... I have never cr ... cried, never. Hold me tight, Janie. Hold me tight. Don't ever leave me. And let me cry.

"Oh, let me cry. Let me cry, my love."

BOOK: the maltese angel
11.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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