He stopped the words by kissing her, and felt her tense under his weight, then relaxed and lay beside her, his face against the pillow. She said pleadingly:
It isn't the right place. Let me come and visit you. It's no good here.
He said: All right. The hoarseness of his voice surprised him. He cleared his throat, and looked at her face. Her chin looked sore, and he remembered that he needed a shave. She was lying with her cheek on her right arm, making no attempt to move, although he was no longer holding her. The wide hem of her skirt spread behind her across the counterpane. He slipped his left arm underneath her neck and pulled her to him again. She could feel his excitement, and he was aware of the beating of her heart as he kissed her. His right hand pressed into the back of her thigh, then moved up to her buttock, and felt the smoothness of her knickers against his fingertips. She said: Please not now, Gerard…
They both heard the noise of the car simultaneously. He said, groaning:
Oh, Christ, just my luck.
She sat up on the edge of the bed, pulling down her dress. She glanced in the mirror and switched at her hair with her fingers. She looked at the expression of gloom and ferocity on his face, and bent to kiss him.
Come on. Get up. Let me tidy the bed.
He rolled off unwillingly, muttering. She said, laughing:
Stop scowling and go and make the tea.
They heard the sound of a car door slamming. He said:
I can't. I'm ready to rape the first girl I see. Even Gertrude.
I expect she'd be delighted!
She ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He went into the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the lavatory seat, staring at his feet. The excitement began to die out of his shoulders and thighs. He heard a key inserted in the front door, then the door opened.
Caroline's voice called:
Hello, aunt.
Miss Quincey said:
Hello, dear. How did you get in?
Gerard got the back door key.
Gerard…?
The voices retreated into the kitchen. He looked at himself in the mirror, and combed his hair. Then, to supply a reason for his presence upstairs, he pulled the lavatory chain. He made sure that his clothes were adjusted, then went downstairs.
Caroline was alone in the kitchen, pouring water into the teapot. When he looked enquiringly at her, she pointed towards the door. He went into the other room and found Miss Quincey taking several books out of a briefcase and arranging them in the bookcase.
She said brightly:
Hello, Gerard. What brought you here?
I was hoping we could have some tea together.
Was it important?
No… I've been at the British Museum this afternoon. I got tired of reading and thought I'd like to see you.
She finished arranging the books, and straightened up.
That was sweet of you. You should have rung. How long have you been here?
Oh, five minutes. I met Caroline at the end of the street…
She smiled at him.
Well, you'll have to come over some other afternoon. Would you like to stay for supper tonight?
What about your meeting?
You needn't come if you don't want to. You could take Caroline for a walk on the Heath. It'll be over by nine.
No. I'd like to, but I'm seeing Austin… Anyway, we couldn't really talk much, could we?…
She said cheerfully:
No. I expect you're right.
She placed her hand on his arm and squeezed it as she went past, smiling at him.
He wondered what had made her so good tempered. The slight sense of guilt about Caroline made him feel that, whatever the reason, he was exceptionally lucky.
When he heard her speaking to Caroline in the kitchen, he was glad he was seeing Austin later. It gave him no excuse to stay. With the two women together, in the same room, he experienced a draining sense of self- division, a feeling of being victimised.
CHAPTER EIGHT
For heaven's sake, not so much whisky! You'll have me pie-eyed before we get to this club.
Drink what you can, Nunne said. He handed Sorme a tumbler half full of whisky.
He said:
Now. Food. Let's see what we have in the fridge.
May I come and look at your kitchen?
Do.
He followed Nunne out of the room, and stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him take food out of the refrigerator and place it on a trolley. He said: It's bloody big. Big enough for four kitchens.
It belonged to my uncle. He liked giving large dinners prepared by several cooks.
It's really rather large for me. But I like a lot of space when I'm cooking.
The kitchen gave the impression that it had been installed as a showroom, or transferred immediately from the Ideal Homes Exhibition. The rack of glass plates and dishes, the rows of saucepans, even the enormous deal table in the middle of the room, looked as if they had never been used. The white-enamelled bench next to the gas stoves had half a dozen electrical gadgets clamped to its edge. The pattern of yellow and white check that covered the walls was repeated in marble shades on the floor. Sorme said: Don't you ever have girls trying to marry you to get in on this?
It has happened. Not recently, though. I don't let girls see it any more. Do you like asparagus?
I don't think I've ever had any.
Really? Then here is where you start.
What does Gertrude think of this place?
She sometimes comes and uses it. When she wants to cook something really exotic. It has timing gadgets fixed to everything… Catch!
He gave the trolley a sudden push and sent it shooting towards Sorme. Sorme said, laughing: Fool!
He caught it before it hit the wall. It contained a dish of asparagus spears, and a cold chicken with one leg missing. There was a glass jug of mayonnaise that looked as if it was frozen solid. He said:
What would you have done if I'd missed it?
Taken you out for supper. Would you take it in there? I'm buttering bread. Help yourself. Plates and things underneath. I'll bring the salad.
Back in the dining-room, he pulled a wing off the chicken, and cut several slices, leaving the leg for Austin. He piled asparagus on his plate, and spooned the almost solid mayonnaise beside it. He propped a book against the cushion and began to read. From the kitchen came the sound of a cork shooting out of a bottle.
Nunne came up beside him as he read, and piled salad on to his plate.
I've found some champagne.
Good. But I've still got all that whisky.
Drink that later.
Sorme was forced to stop reading as the plate wobbled and almost fell off his knees. Nunne said:
