The Watchers on the Shore (33 page)

'A typical stroke of subtle corruption. Did you see Wilf Cotton
tonight?'

'No. Was he there?'

'Yes. I had a drink with him at the interval.'

I'll get you one. What do you want?'

'Albert and I left some beer, I think.'

I get up and wander after her as far as the kitchen doorway as
Rex Harrison begins to sing
I've grown accustomed to her face.
I don't know which goes more with my mood, this or the Rachmaninov. At least that's abstract and doesn't put it directly into words.

'What had Wilf to say for himself?'

'He was eavesdropping on audience reaction.'

'Was it good?'

'The bits he quoted to me were.'

'I like him, don't you?'

'Yes, he seems to be a good lad.'

She hands over my beer, having found some red wine for herself,
and we go back into the other room and sit on the couch.

'I like his work, too, I must say. His new television play's very
good.'

'You've read it now, have you?'

'Yes, the script came yesterday.'

'He keeps his promises.'

'Who?'

'Clive Carter.'

'Some of them.'

I shoot her a quick look but there's nothing in her face that I can read.

'Are you going to do it, then?'

'I think I am.'

'You haven't definitely made your mind up?'

'It's a lovely part.'

'Well, what are you waiting for?'

Oh, there are other considerations involved.'

'Like Carter, you mean?'

It's her turn to give me a quick look now.

'Why did you say that?'

Something Wilf Cotton said tonight.'

"About me?'

'You and Carter.'

'Gossip?'

'No, just something he let drop in conversation. I don't think he can know about us or he probably wouldn't have said it.'

'What was it he said?'

'That you used to live together.'

'Was that all?'

'Wasn't it enough?'

She twists on the couch, looking straight at me.

'Oh God ...' Her eyes rove about my face. 'You're not going to act as though you're hurt, are you?'

'Have I said anything?'

'Enough. God, but it's funny how the puritanical provincialism
always comes to the top.'

'Look, I-'

'You're shocked. No, I can tell you are. You can have an affair
but when you find out I lived with
somebody else for a while your
small-town mentality comes straight through.'

'Look, will you stop jumping on me. I am
not
shocked. But I had
to find out. I'd rather you'd told me yourself.'

You only met the man on Monday night. I've hardly had time to tell you.'

'You could have told me then.'

'You didn't think you were the first man I'd ever been to bed
with, did you?'

Look, you're getting me all wrong.'

'Am I?'

'Yes, you are. It was obvious he was influencing whether or not
you'd do this play. I just thought you might have been a bit more
open and discussed it with me.'

Vic, Clive Carter is somebody I knew before I met you. He's got nothing to do with you.'

'But when he influences what you're going to do now he has.
Or hasn't he?'

'I'm not your personal property, Vic.'

'No.'

Oh God, why do you have to be hurt about it?'

'I suppose it's mainly because I don't like the bloke.'

'Look, darling, I'm twenty-four years old. I've known a lot of people and done a lot of things before I met you. Nothing I'm
particularly ashamed of, as it happens. But do I have to run over it
all for your approval now?'

'Donna ... do you love me?'

'Darling, it's one of the most stupid and misleading words in the
language.'

'Not for me it isn't.'

'Vic, let's stop this, shall we?'

'What do you want from me? I mean, what do you expect?'

'What kind of a question is that?'

Yes. Just so. What can she say till I put my own cards on the table?

What happened with this Carter feller?'

'Well we lived together, like the man said.'

'Why didn't you get married?'

We might have done if it had lasted. But it didn't. It went on for nearly a year and then we split up.'

'Why was that?'

'Temperament, I suppose. Incompatibility, the lawyers call it. Only we didn't need lawyers. We just walked out on each other and called it quits. That was a couple of years ago. I hadn't seen him for over a year when he turned up this week. It was a complete surprise. I wasn't expecting him.'

She stops and gives me a little smile. 'Was that what you were
brooding about when I came in?'

'No, as a matter of fact it wasn't. Just the situation in general.'

'Well you can stop it for a while now I'm here.'

'Yes.'

'Are you going home tomorrow?'

'Yes.'

'Will you make love to your wife this week-end?'

'What?'

'You see, that's the sort of question I could ask you. Wives are
supposed to abhor the thought of their husband having another
woman, but mistresses have to put up with it. Have you never
thought of that?'

'No. But mistresses are depraved creatures anyway.'

She smiles. 'That must be the answer.'

The smile fades into an expression I've seen on her face before, the eyelids half down as she looks at me. She puts her head on my
shoulder.

'If you're going away tomorrow would you like to stay for a while tonight?'

'Can I?'

'If you think you can risk it. Will it be all right?'

'Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.'

'Not a very tactful way of putting it.'

'I must have left my tact in my other suit tonight.'

'Mmmm. Do you want another drink?'

'No.'

'Shall we go now, then?'

'No time like the present.'

It's cold in the bedroom but when Donna turns the sheets back
I say:

'What's this? An electric blanket?'

'Yes. I switch it on every night before I leave for the theatre.
What's wrong, don't you approve?'

'Well, yes, it's fine.'

'Would it make you feel easier if you sinned in discomfort?'

'It'd be easier if you stopped needling me.'

Her eyes are laughing at me. I love her and sin is a word invented
for somebody else.

And when I'm holding her I've got an awareness of how we are together that's keener and more piercing than anything I've known
before: an agony of both sadness and joy, and so near to
heart
break you'd think I had some way of knowing it's for the last time.

18

I go home all tensed up, expecting a week-end of rows or at best
frosty silences and a general attitude of keep your distance; but instead I find Ingrid calm and loving and neither Donna nor the letters is mentioned. She could be doing the smart thing; boxing
clever; but in any event it's such a relief that I feel myself winding
down a bit and seeing things in a better light. When we get round to
the subject of finding somewhere to live and her coming down, I
begin to box a bit crafty myself, playing for time. The weather's on
my side. It's as bad as ever, with sleet and snow and ice, and we
don't propose to begin looking round seriously till it lets up a bit.
And there's something else, I tell her. With this bad weather I'm
just a bit doubtful about the firm. I'd like to hang on a bit longer
and make sure they won't start making economies such as cutting
back in the number of staff to offset a bit of what the winter has
lost them in working hours. No, it's not likely, but if the worst did happen I might want to come back here and it wouldn't do to burn
our boats. As me coming back is what Ingrid would like more than
anything else she can't help but see the sense in this.

Early the next week Donna goes up to town to see her agent and
the casting director of the television company and comes back with
the part. Rehearsals start in a few days, as soon as she's finished
with the play at the theatre, and she'll be away for a fortnight, staying with Fleur. On the Sunday night before she leaves we
drive out into the country and have a meal at a pub Donna knows,
a real genuine old place with roaring fires, oak beams and settles.
After we've eaten we stand at the bar for a while and Donna,
mentioning some old pub she knows in Cornwall, gets the landlord started on about the history of the place. What he's talking about is
interesting enough but I'm only half listening most of the time
because I've got a growing nagging feeling that there are things I
ought to be saying to Donna, that she might be expecting me to say;
but it's not until we're going back in the car that we have a real chance to talk.

I put my hand in her lap as she drives.

'I'm going to miss you, love.'

'I shall miss you.'

'I was wondering if we couldn't manage something next week
end.'

'Won't you be going home?'

'I could make some excuse and not go.'

'No, if things have calmed down a bit you don't want to go
stirring them all up again.'

'Maybe it's about time they were really stirred up. Brought out
into the open.'

'Darling, you-'

'She doesn't own me, does she? I mean, I'm still a person in my own right and I don't
have to
put up with a situation I don't
like.'

'Vic,' she says, 'don't go thrashing around causing trouble.'

'I'm talking about getting rid of trouble; throwing it all off.'

Is it as easy as that?'

'It can be if you make up your mind what you want and go
straight for it.'

She says something else, very short, that's lost in the noise of the
engine. And then I ask her, straight out:

Would you marry me if I were free?'

There's a pause before she answers.

'I'd live with you.'

I snort. 'Live with me... Is it all you can think of- living with
people? Don't you ever commit yourself?'