The scene round Georgie's bed was animated by a feverish gaiety. We were all there, like a family reunited at the bedside of a sick child. Brightly coloured wrapping-paper, chocolate boxes, toy animals, Penguin books, and exotic cigarettes strewed the counterpane, and the rows of flower vases on the dressing table and the window ledge made the little white hospital room look like a florist's shop. There was something of the atmosphere of Christmas Day in the nursery.
Georgie lying back, propped up with pillows, seemed indeed like an over-excited little girl. Her face was rather red and retained a new look of plumpness. Her hair, which she had shorn roughly at the nape of the neck, had been a little trimmed up by the Sister, but was still jagged and stuck out awkwardly on either side of her head, making her look very juvenile. She nervously caressed a white fluffy toy dog which Antonia had brought her, and looked at each of us in turn with a bright diffident imploring smile. We leaned benevolently over her.
It was now the third day since Georgie's exploit. She had been in a coma for more than twelve hours, but was now out of danger and considerably recovered. Palmer was sitting close to her at the head of the bed and I was sitting opposite him. Antonia was perched on the bed, her legs curled under her, and Alexander was leaning on the iron rail at the foot. Honor Klein leaned against the window ledge behind Palmer.
'Oh dear, I've caused you all so much trouble!' said Georgie. 'I do feel bad.'
'All's well that ends well!' said Antonia, her hand impulsively meeting Georgie's in the soft fur of the toy dog. Antonia had been positively rejuvenated by the news of Georgie's attempt. On hearing of it she had completely cast aside her listless and defeated air. After three days of exhilaration and excitement she looked distinctly handsomer and like her old self. Yesterday she had bought three hats.
«And so you should feel bad!' said Palmer. 'Strictly speaking, we should have given you a good thrashing, instead of spoiling you like this!' He passed his hand affectionately over her dark cropped head, turning it slightly towards him.
I could feel Honor Klein's eyes upon me, but I did not look at her. She leaned there with a bland cat-like expression which was almost a smile, and did not join in the chatter. Alexander too was subdued, brooding on Georgie with a sad gentle stare, immersed in the enjoyment of his private emotions. I envied his evident ability to feel. I was hollow.
'I felt such a sham when I came round,' said Georgie, 'and I thought to myself, all the other women on this corridor are here with real illnesses, and I am just a trouble-maker. But do you know, they're all in for the same thing as me! The woman in the end is quite proud because she took the largest dose!'
We laughed. Alexander murmured, ' «To sleep! Perchance In dream …» ' half audibly and then would not repeat what he had said.
I looked at Georgie's nervously twisting hands. I felt com-passion for those hands as they jumpily fondled the toy dog. But I could no longer apprehend Georgie as a whole. She had never, after that strange scattering of her, come together again. I felt no grain of passionate interest in the once familiar body which lay extended so close to me. Something, even, in her still changed and alien face repelled me. It was as if she had died indeed. I wanted, when I thought of this, to kneel by her bed and bury my face and groan as a sort of desperate act of mourning. But I went on sitting there with a fixed half-smile. I wondered if, supposing I were to reach out and pat her hands, the gesture would look intolerably artificial. I could still feel Honor's eyes upon me like a cold sun.
'Well, it all makes employment for members of my profession,' said Palmer. 'Though I must admit it doesn't usually bring me in such delightful patients!'
Georgie, as was usual in such cases, had been asked to undergo some psychiatric treatment, and Palmer had under-taken to satisfy the requirements by enrolling her as a patient. She was soon to travel to Cambridge for a short stay.
'It's absurd, of course,' said Georgie. 'I'm perfectly sane, in fact – far saner than most psycho-analysts!'
'Thank you, my dear!' said Palmer. 'I'm sure you are. But a little sorting out will do us no harm.'
I thought, soon Georgie will be telling Palmer all about her sex life. I reached out and patted one of Georgie's fidgeting hands. She shuddered.
Antonia said, 'Well, my child, I mustn't spend all day on your bed! I've got a hairdressing appointment. I must dart off.' She pulled herself off the bed without looking at me and smoothed down her smart spring suit. She looked radiant.
Alexander said, 'I'll drive you. I've got to fix up about that exhibition.' He gave Georgie his deep sad look, pressed his two hands over her feet through the bed-clothes, and left the room in the wake of Antonia.
The sun was shining, the bright, cool late-January sun, with misleading hints of springtime, and the white room was gay with it. I wondered if I had better go too and leave Honor and Palmer with Georgie. I ought to have been tasting hock that afternoon. There was still time to get along. Only it seemed to have become extremely difficult to move or speak, as if I were being subjected to some paralysing ray. Palmer was holding Georgie's hand. He too looked exceptionally well, with his hard clean look, the skin brown and unwrinkled, his crop of light grey hair as smooth and dry as an animal's fur. When I saw him too so positively glowing it passed through my mind that he might conceivably have re-established some relation with Antonia. But that was impossible. I looked at Honor Klein over Palmer's head. She was still smiling like an archaic statue.
'Suppose you kids run along,' said Palmer. 'I want to talk seriously to my patient!'
I got up and said, 'Well, good-bye,' and kissed Georgie on the brow. She murmured something and smiled after me, her feverishly brilliant eyes wrinkled up with anxiety. I went out and down the stairs. I could hear footsteps behind me.
Twenty-seven
Honor Klein caught up with me at the door of the hospital and I said without looking at her, 'May I give you a lift?'
She said 'Yes' and I led the way in silence to the car.
I retain little memory of the drive to Pelham Crescent. Oddly, in retrospect that journey is jumbled in my mind with my first journey with Honor from Liverpool Street Station. I recall only a blaze of exhilaration which came with the certainty of what I was about to do. Through the rush-hour traffic the god that protects drunken men protected me.
When we arrived I got out of the car and followed her to the house, which seemed not to surprise her. She opened the door, held it for me, and then went into the drawing-room. The bright sun made the sombre room seem bleak and soulless, taking the warmth out of its rich colours. It looked dusty. I came in and shut the door behind me. We faced each other down the length of the room.
It was now indeed that I felt that I might faint, and I remember grinding my wrists against the panel of the door so that the pain might steady me. She was watching, still with a trace of the archaic smile, and I felt the power in her. I controlled my breathing.
With an evident and relentless attention Honor waited for me to speak.
I said at last, 'I suppose you realize that I am in love with you?'
She considered this, with head slightly on one side as if listening, and said, 'Yes.'
I said, 'I doubt if you realize how much.'
She turned away, giving me her shoulder, and said, 'It doesn't matter.' She spoke quietly but without weariness.
'That I love you, or how much?'
'The latter. I'm touched that you love me. That's all.'
'It's not all,' I said. 'Honor, I want you savagely and I shall fight for you savagely.'
She shook her head and turned back now to meet my eyes. She said, 'There is no place for such a love.' Her 'no place» seemed to search the universe and fold it into a box.
I would not take this. I said, 'When did you know I loved you?' It was a lover's question.
