«Letter?»
«There was a letter addressed to me in your sitting-room. Arnold gave it to me. Here, take this and stop trembling.»
«No thank you.»
«God, I'm trembling too. Thank heavens Arnold rang up and said you were coming. I might have fainted otherwise. Are we glad to see each other?»
The voice was faintly steadily American. Now that I could see her more distinctly among the dark blurry browns and blues of the room I realized how handsome she had become. The old terrible nervy vitality had been shaped by a mature elegance into an air of authority. How had a woman without education managed to do that to herself in a little town in the Middle West of America?
The room was almost the same. It represented and recalled a much earlier me, a younger and yet unformed taste: wickerwork, wool-embroidered cushions, blurry lithographs, hand-thrown pottery with purple glazes, hand- woven curtains of flecked mauve linen, straw matting on the floor. A calm pretty insipid place. I had created that room years and years and years ago. I had wept in it. I had screamed in it.
«All right.»
«Your ma still alive?»
«No.»
«Unwind, man. I'd forgotten what a bean pole you are. Maybe you got thinner. Your hair's thinner but it's not grey, is it, I can't see. You always did look a bit like Don Quixote. You don't look too bad. I thought you might be an old man all bald and shambling. How do I look? Jesus, what a time interval, isn't it.»
«Yes.»
«Drink, won't you, it'll loosen your tongue. Do you know something, I'm glad to see you! I looked forward to you on the ship. But I guess I'm glad to see everything just now, I get a buzz from the whole world just now, everything's bright and beautiful. Do you know I did a course in Zen Buddhism? I guess I must be enlightened, everything's so glorious! I thought poor old Evans would never get on with the departure scene, I prayed every day for that man to die, he was a sick man. Now I wake up every morning and remember it's really true and I close my eyes again and I'm in heaven. Not a very holy attitude is it, but it's nature, and at my age at least you can be sincere. Are you shocked, am I awful? Yes, I think I am glad to see you, I think it's fun. God, I just want to laugh and laugh, isn't that odd?»
As I looked at her I felt that old fear of a misunderstanding which amounted to an invasion, a taking over of my thoughts. I tried to stare at her and to be cold, to find a controlled tone of voice which was hard and calm. I spoke.
«I came to see you simply because I thought that you would annoy me until I did. I meant what I said in my letter. It was not 'excited,' it was just a statement. I do not want and will not tolerate any renewal of our acquaintance. And now that you have satisfied your curiosity by looking at me and had your laugh will you please understand that I want to hear no more of you. I say this just in case you might conceive it to be 'fun' to pester me. I would be grateful if you would keep away from me, and keep away from my friends too.»
«Oh come on, Brad, you don't own your friends. Are you jealous already?»
The jibe brought back the past, her adroit determination to retain every advantage, to have every last word. I felt myself blushing with anger and distress. I must not enter into argument with this woman. I decided to repeat my statement quietly and then go. «Please leave me alone. I do not like you or want to see you. Why should I? It sickens me that you are back in London. Be kind enough to leave me absolutely alone from now on.»
«I feel pretty sick too, do you know? I feel all kind of moved and touched. I thought about you out there, Brad. We did make a mess of things, didn't we. We got so across each other, it spoilt the world in a way. I talked about you with my guru. I thought of writing you-«
«Goodbye.»
«Don't go, Brad, please. There's so much I want to talk to you about, not just about the old days but about life, you know. You're my only friend in London, I'm so out of touch. You know I bought the upper flat here, now I own the whole house. Evans thought it was a good investment. Poor old Evans, God rest his soul, he was a real bit of ail-American stodge, though he understood business all right. I amused myself getting educated, or I'd have died
