Part 33 (1/2)

'OK. No garlic.'

We transferred to the dining room before seventhirty and ate the proposed programme, and I asked if she were returning to York that night: if she had a train to catch, if that was why we were eating early.

'No, I'm down here for two nights. Tomorrow I'm going to an old friend's wedding, then back to York on Thursday morning.' She concentrated on twirling linguine onto her fork. 'When Henry and I come to London together we always stay at the Selfridge Hotel, and when I come alone I stay there also. They know us well there. When I'm there alone they don't present me with an account, they send it to Henry.' She ate the forkful of linguine. 'I tell him I go to the cinema and eat in snack bars. . . and he knows I'm always back in the hotel before midnight.'

There was a good long stretch of time between this dinner and midnight.

I said, 'Every five weeks or so, when you came down to London alone, Greville met you at King's Cross, isn't that right, and took you to lunch?'

She said in surprise, 'Did he tell you?'

'Not face to face. Did you ever see that gadget of his, the Wizard?'

'Yes, but . . .' She was horrified. 'He surely didn't put me in it?'

'Not by name, and only under a secret pa.s.sword.

You're quite safe.'

She twiddled some more with the pasta, her eyes down, her thoughts somewhere else.

'After lurch,' she said, with pauses, 'if I had appointments.

I'd keep them, or do some shopping.. . something to take home. I'd register at the hotel and change, and go to Greville's house. He used to have the flat, of course, but the house was much better. When he came, we'd have drinks . . . talk . . . maybe make love. We'd go to dinner early, then back to his house.' Her voice stopped. She still didn't look up.

I said, 'Do you want to go to his house now, before midnight?'

After a while, she said, 'I don't know.'

Well . . . would you like coffee?'

She nodded, still not meeting my eyes, and pushed the linguine away. We sat in silence while waiters took away the plates and poured into cups, and if she couldn't make up her mind, nor could I.

In the end I said, 'If you like, come to Greville's house now. I'm sleeping there tonight, but that's not a factor. Come if you like, just to be near him, to be with him as much as you can for maybe the last time. Lie on his bed. Weep for him. I'll wait for you downstairs. ..

and take you safely to your hotel before the fairy coach changes back to a pumpkin.'

'Oh!' She turned what had been going to be a sob into almost a laugh. 'Can I really?'

'Whenever you like.'

'Thank you, then. Yes.'

'I'd better warn you,' I said, 'it's not exactly tidy.' I told her what she would find, but she was inconsolable at the sight of the reality.

'He would have hated this,' she said. 'I'm so glad he didn't see it.'

We were in the small sitting room, and she went round picking up the pink and brown stone bears, restoring them to their tray.

'I gave him these,' she said. 'He loved them. They're rhodonite. he said.'

Take them to remember him by. And there's a gold watch you gave him, if you'd like that too.'

She paused with the last bear in her hand and said, 'You're very kind to me.'

'It's not difficult. And he'd have been furious with me if I weren't.'

'I'd love the bears. You'd better keep the watch, because of the engraving.'

'OK 'Isaid.

'I think,' she said with diffidence, 'I'll go upstairs now.'

I nodded.

'Come with me,' she said.

I looked at her. Her eyes were wide and troubled, but not committed, not hungry. Undecided. Like myself.

'All right,' I said.

Is there chaos up there too?'

'I picked some of it up.'

She went up the stairs ahead of me at about four times my speed, and I heard her small moan of distress at the desecration of the bedroom. When I joined her, she was standing forlornly looking around, and with naturalness she turned to me and put her arms loosely round my waist laying her head on my shoulder. I shed the confounded crutches and hugged her tight in grief for her and for Greville and we stood there for a long minute in mutual and much needed comfort.

She let her arms fall away and went over to sit on the bed, smoothing a hand over the black and white chequer-board counterpane.

'He was going to change this room,' she said. 'All this drama . . .' She waved a hand at the white furniture, the black carpet, one black wall . . . 'It came with the house.

He wanted me to choose something softer, that I would like. But this is how I'll always remember it.'

She lay down flat, her head on the pillows, her legs toward the foot of the bed, ankles crossed. I halfhopped, half-limped across the room and sat on the edge beside her.

She watched me with big eyes. I put my hand flat on her stomach and felt the sharp internal contraction of muscles.

'Should we do this?' she said.

'I'm not Greville.'

'No . . . Would he mind?'

'I shouldn't think so.' I moved my hand, rtlbbing a little. 'Do you want to go on?'

'Do you?'

'Yes,' I said.

She sat up fast and put her arms round my neck in a sort of released compulsion.