everything, she wanted, oh so lovingly, to draw back the stream of my life towards her, she wanted to hold me and Georgie in her hands, to gaze down upon us with solicitude and complete understanding. I did not deny her. She was overjoyed.
We agreed that it was probably best that I should go right away for a short holiday, not even to think things over but simply to rest; and indeed I was worn out. We considered Brittany, Venice, Rome, though without deciding. What she chiefly urged upon me was the desirability, the necessity, of waiting calmly, even for a long time, before approaching a decision. It was absurd to distress myself with such problems when I was, after recent events, so upset and so tired. I must look after myself and spoil myself a little; I needed rest: and Antonia promised herself, during my absence, the pleasure of getting to know Georgie better.
We also managed, and this too relieved my mind, to make some minimum decisions about furniture, such decisions anyway as would enable both of us to move certain essentials out of Hereford Square; and now for the first time I began to picture as a reality my life in the Lowndes Square flat. I mentioned this to Antonia and she congratulated me. As the time came for me to go she clung to me, covering me with kisses, and I let her have her way.
'Dearest Martin, come round again to see us tonight after dinner, will you, please? Anderson so especially wants to see you. Just to see you, you know. And now that I feel so much happier, tomorrow is far too far away!'
'All right,' I said, ‘I’ll drop in. I'll bring you some wine if you like. The '57 Chateau Lauriol de Barny is good, and I think you and Palmer haven't tried it.'
'Oh, do that!' said Antonia. 'After all, you must still educate me, mustn't you? Darling, you will often see me alone, won't you, in the time to come?'
I said that I would, and also now for the first time envisaged this as being perhaps not too painful to be possible. When I left her we were both exhausted but feeling better.
I reflected, as I walked through the cold misty afternoon toward Georgie's lodging, that on the whole I was grateful to Georgie for having forced my hand. That Antonia now knew about it did relieve a certain pressure which although I had endured it stoically enough in the past I now recognized to have been a pain. It was indeed better to be free of the lies; and although I was still very unsure what this .revelation might not have done to my relationship with Georgie, it was at least plain that nothing very honest or clear could have been settled between us prior to it. There was now, I felt, a beginning of sanity. Yes, I was grateful to Georgie; or rather, I further reflected, to Honor Klein; and as I climbed Georgie's stairs I saw again the strange image of Honor Klein sitting with the Samurai sword across her knees. The image returned to me with a certain resonance of meaning which, as I neared Georgie's door, I diagnosed as arising from the fact that I must have dreamt about Honor last night. But I could not recall the dream.
Georgie was not alone. I could hear voices as I approached and I waited a while before knocking. The stairs and landing were being painted and looked unfamiliar, and as I stood there I stared at a pile of painters' litter, and tried with an envelope to rub some wet paint off my hand. The place had an alien smell. Eventually, as the visitor showed no sign of departing, and gay laughter seemed to indicate that things were indeed going nicely, I knocked on the door and after a suitable interval went in. Georgie was sitting by the gas fire dispensing coffee to a guest. The guest was a man. It was my brother Alexander.
When I appeared they both started up and we all stared at each other. Georgie put her hand to her breast. I could hardly believe what I saw and I had the sense as in a nightmare of being involved in something both wildly improbable and relentlessly inevitable. This had to happen. Yet how could it have happened? And for a wild moment I wondered whether I hadn't long ago introduced Georgie and Alexander to each other and forgotten about it. Then I wondered if I were going mad. I sat down on a chair near the door and said 'Why are you here?' to my brother.
Alexander twisted his long form and gave me a deliberately rueful and guilty look. In his smart dark grey London clothes he looked elegant, taller, a thought more degenerate. He said, 'I met Georgie at lunch today. I'm sorry, Martin.'
'Why are you saying sorry?' said Georgie. 'It's not very polite! And there's nothing to apologize about.' She was flushed and excited. I guessed she had had a good deal to drink.
'Well, it's a shock to Martin, naturally,' said Alexander, turning back to Georgie. They stood one at each end, leaning against the mantelpiece and looking at each other. 'I'm sure he would prefer to have introduced us himself.'
'I asked him often enough!' said Georgie, laughing harshly. 'He's only got himself to thank.'
'You two seem to have been getting on splendidly,' I said. 'May I ask how you ran into each other?'
Georgie's nostrils expanded rabbit-like then contracted, and she stroked the tip of her nose with a forefinger. She was wearing her best black corduroy coat and skirt and her hair was piled artfully and with care. 'Honor Klein introduced us.'
'That bloody woman again,' I said. 'I wish people would just stop interfering with my affairs!'
'If people interfere with you it's because you like it,' said Georgie. 'You're dying to be interfered with. You're a sort of vacuum into which interference rushes. Anyway, it wasn't anything to do with you. Why do you assume everyone is so interested in your doings? I asked Honor to introduce me to Alexander and she kindly did so. She invited me to lunch and I accepted. I'm a free agent after all!'
'I wonder if you know how much you're hurting me,' I said. 'Yes, I suppose you do!'
'Go easy, Georgie,' said Alexander.
'I can do without kind words from you,' I said to my brother. 'Do you know that Georgie is my mistress?'
'Yes,' said Alexander. 'She has told me.' He gave me his gentle solicitous apologetically ironical stare.
'Don't flatter yourself,' I said. 'She tells everybody. But you must have had a delicious conversation. And now will you clear out?'
'You're being beastly, Martin,' said Georgie. 'It's not Alexander's fault. And of course you should have introduced us long ago. I know all this is unfortunate in a way, and it's a great pity you turned up just now. But I've felt so bloody miserable lately and so damnably tied up, I wanted to take some action on my own, I wanted to feel a bit free. I didn't do it to hurt you, but just somehow to ease myself. And anyway it's not so important.'
'Now you're being rude!' said Alexander.
'You knew bloody well it would hurt me,' I said. 'But perhaps we can continue this chat when my dear brother has gone.'
'Don't be so excitable, Martin,' said Alexander. 'Surely you can carry the thing off without all this shouting? Look, have some coffee. Georgie, get him another cup. Do have some sense of proportion, Martin.'
'It's kind of you to act as host to me in my own house,' I said.
'It's not your house,' said Georgie, pouring out another cup of coffee. 'That's the point!'
'Please don't be angry,' said Alexander.
'All right,' I said. 'But go.'
Alexander dropped his hands and bowed to me in a way that was half ironical, half submissive. He turned to Georgie and with a rueful admiring stare he took her in. She stared back evenly, unsmiling, but with a candour and a presence more telling than any smile. They must have had a good talk. Then as if unable to help himself he reached out a hand and drew it back over her head from the crown down toward the nape of the neck. She remained perfectly still, but her eyes widened slightly. He murmured, 'Yes. I wonder if that was the head I was waiting for?'
'Go,' I said, 'go, go, go.'
'Ah, well,' said Alexander. 'Georgie, thank you. Martin, sorry. Good-bye.' He bowed this time to Georgie and left the room. I closed the door behind him.
I went over to Georgie and struck her hard on the cheek with my open hand.
She stepped back, but with dignity, and her face became scarlet. I had never struck her in anger before. She turned her back to me and said in a thick voice, 'The reign of terror has started.'
I turned her round again to face me, holding her by the shoulders. Her eyes filled with tears, but she had control of herself. She glared at me furiously and then fumbled for a handkerchief.
'All right,' she said, 'all right, Martin, all right, all right.'
'It's not all right,' I said.
