time, for as they moved, two figures lifted their heads in perfect yet unaffected unison, and slid over the soft turf. On their heads they wore helmets that smouldered in the low rays of the sun.
As they passed, there was yet another sound, apart from the whisper of their feet on the grass. Titus (whose heart was thudding, for he recognized the enigmatic pair) was able for the first time to hear yet
They passed by, and the hissing died away, and all that could be seen were the sunbeams glancing from their studded helmets.
As soon as they were far enough away, the fauna of the woods crept out from their hiding places in the boles of trees, or in among the roots and burrows, clustered together on the dappled ride, their private enmities forgotten as they stared at the retreating figures.
‘Who were they?’
‘Were?’ said Titus. ‘They’re in the present tense, God help me.’
‘Who
‘They sleuth me. I must
Cheeta turned to look at him. ‘Not yet,’ she said.
‘At once,’ said Titus.
‘Impossible,’ said Cheeta. ‘All is ready.’
The shadow of a leaf trembled on her cheekbones. Her eyes were huge; as though they were sunk for one purpose only … to drown the unwary … to gulp him down to where the wet ferns drip … a world away; down, down into the cold. She hated him because she could not love him. He was unattainable. His love was somewhere else, where dust blossomed.
Cheeta bit her pretty lips. In her head was malice, like a growth. In her heart was a kind of yearning, because passion was not part of her life. Even as she stared she could see the lust in his eyes; that stupid male lust that cheapened everything.
Titus leant forward suddenly, and caught her lower lip between his own.
‘You are almost without substance,’ he said, ‘save for the bits of you that you call your body. I’m off.’ As he raised his head he ran his tongue along her throat, and cupped her perfect little breast in his left hand. ‘I’m away,’ he whispered. ‘Away for good.’
‘You cannot go,’ she said. ‘Everything is ready … for you.’
‘Me? What do you mean? Everything is ready for what?’
‘Take your hand away.’ She turned at the sound of her own words so that Titus could not see an expression pass across her face. It was lethal.
‘They will all be there,’ she said.
‘Who, in God’s name?’
‘Your friends. Your early friends.’
‘Who? Who? What early friends?’
‘That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’
There was something sickening about the way this glib childish phrase was delivered in that same laconic drawl. ‘But it is all for you.’
‘
‘I’ll tell you,’ said Cheeta, ‘and then you’ll have no option. It’s only one night, and there’s only a little time to wait for it. A night in your honour. A farewell party. A feast. Something for you to remember as long as you live.’
‘I don’t want a party,’ said Titus. ‘I want …’
‘I know,’ said Cheeta. ‘I do indeed know. You are eager to forget me. To forget that I found you destitute and nursed you back to health. You have forgotten all this. What did you do for me, except be horrible to my friends? Now you are strong again, you think you’ll go. But there is one thing that you must not forget, and that is that I worship you.’
‘Spare me that,’ said Titus.
‘Yes, worship you, my darling.’
‘I am going to be sick,’ said Titus.
‘Why should you not be? I am also sick. To the very roots of myself. But can I help it? Can I? When I love you without hope?’
Mixed with her loathing of what she was saying was a shred of truth, that, small as it was, was yet enough to make her hands tremble, like the wings of humming-birds.
‘You cannot desert me, Titus. Not now, when all is prepared for you. We will laugh and sing, and drink and dance, and go mad with all that one night can give us.’
‘Why?’
‘Because a chapter will be over. Let us end it in a flourish. Let us end it not with a full stop, dead as death, but with an exclamation mark … a leaping thing.’
