mother didn't come to the drab ceremony, performed in haste between air raid alerts. His parents wore disapproving masks and their kisses were perfunctory and Trina had dissolved into tears and the marriage license was wet with tears.
That night Grey discovered that Trina wasn't a virgin. Oh, she acted as though she was, and complained for many days that, please darling, I'm so sore, be patient. But she wasn't a virgin and that hurt Grey, for she had implied it many times. But he pretended that he didn't know she had cheated him.
The last time he saw Trina was six days before he embarked for overseas.
They were in their flat and he was lying on the bed watching her dressing.
'Do you know where you're going?' she asked.
'No,' Grey said. The day had been bad and the quarrel of the night before bad, and the lack of her and the knowledge that his leave was up today was heavy on him.
He got up and stood behind her, slipping his hands into her bosom, molding the tautness of her, loving her.
'Don't!'
'Trina, could we —'
'Don't be foolish. You know the show starts at eight-thirty.'
'There's plenty of time —'
'For the love of God, Robin, don't! You'll mess up my makeup!'
'To hell with your makeup,' he said. 'I won't be here tomorrow.'
'Perhaps that's just as well. I don't think you're very kind or very thoughtful.'
'What do you expect me to be like? Is it wrong for a husband to want his wife?'
'Stop shouting, My God, the neighbors will hear you.'
'Let 'em, by God!' He went towards her, but she slammed the bathroom door in his face.
When she came back into the room she was cold and fragrant. She wore a bra and half slip and panties under the slip, and stockings held by a tiny belt. She picked up the cocktail dress and began to step into it.
'Trina,' he began.
'No.'
He stood over her, and his knees had no strength in them. 'I'm sorry I - I shouted.'
'It doesn't matter.'
He bent to kiss her shoulders, but she moved away.
'I see you've been drinking again,' she said, wrinkling her nose.
Then his rage burst. 'I only had one drink, damn you to hell,' he shouted and spun her around and ripped the dress off her and ripped the bra off her and threw her on the bed. And he ripped at her clothes until she was naked but for the shreds of stockings clinging to her legs. And all the time she lay still, staring up at him.
'Oh God, Trina, I love you,' he croaked helplessly, then backed away, hating himself for what he had done and what he had nearly done.
Trina picked up the shreds of the clothes. As though in a dream, he watched as she went back to the mirror and sat before it and began to repair her makeup and started to hum a tune, over and over.
Then he slammed the door and went back to his unit and the next day he tried to phone her. There was no answer. It was too late to go back to London, in spite of his desperate pleading. The unit moved to Greenock for embarkation and every day, every minute of every day, he phoned her, but there was no answer, and no answer to his frantic telegrams, and then the coast of Scotland was swallowed by the night, and the night was only ship and sea, and he was only tears.
Grey shuddered under the Malayan sun. Ten thousand miles away. It wasn't Trina's fault, he thought, weak with self-disgust. It wasn't her, it was me. I was too anxious. Maybe I'm insane. Maybe I should see a doctor.
Maybe I'm oversexed. It's got to be me, not her. Oh Trina, my love.
'Are you all right, Grey?' Colonel Jones asked.
'Oh, yes, sir, thank you.' Grey came to and discovered that he was leaning weakly against the supply hut. 'It was — was just a touch of fever.'
'You don't look too good. Sit down for a minute.'
'It's all right, thank you. I'll — I'll just get some water.'
Grey went over to the tap and took off his shirt and dunked his head under the stream of water. Bloody fool, to let yourself go like that! he thought. But in spite of his resolve, inexorably his mind returned to Trina.
Tonight, tonight I'll let myself think of her, he promised. Tonight, and every night. To hell with trying to live without food. Without hope. I want to die.
How much I want to die.
Then he saw Peter Marlowe walking up the hill. In his hands was an American mess can and he was holding it carefully. Why?
'Marlowe!' Grey moved in front of him.
'What the hell do you want?'
'What's in there?'
'Food.'
