Giant's Bread

by Christie, writing as Mary Westmacott, Agatha

  Of course there were women who’d married again, and then had found their first husbands were alive. Rather an awful position. She had never really been George’s wife at all.

  Oh! it couldn’t be true. Such things didn’t happen. God wouldn’t let –

  But perhaps she had better not think of God. It reminded her of those very unpleasant things that Jane had said the other day. That very same day.

  She thought with a rush of self-pity: ‘I was so happy …’

  Was Vernon going to understand? Would he – perhaps – blame her? He’d want her, of course, to come back. Or wouldn’t he – now that she and George – What did men think?

  There could be a divorce, of course, and then she could marry George. But that would make a lot of talk. How difficult everything was.

  She thought with a sudden shock: ‘But I love Vernon. How can I contemplate a divorce and marrying George when I love Vernon? He’s been given back to me – from the dead.’

  She turned over restlessly on the bed. It was a beautiful Empire bed. George had bought it out of an old château in France. It was perfect and quite unique. She looked round the room – a charming room, everything in harmony – perfect taste, perfect unostentatious luxury.

  She remembered suddenly the horsehair sofa and the antimacassars in the furnished rooms at Wiltsbury.

  … Dreadful! But they had been happy there.

  But now? She looked round the room with new eyes. Of course, Abbots Puissants belonged to George. Or didn’t it, now that Vernon had come back? Anyway, Vernon would be just as poor as ever – they couldn’t afford to live here … there were all the things that George had done to it … thought after thought raced confusedly through her brain.

  She must write to George – beg him to come home. Just say it was urgent – nothing more. He was so clever. He might see a way.

  Or perhaps she wouldn’t write to him – not till she had seen Vernon. Would Vernon be very angry? How terrible it all was.

  The tears came to her eyes. She sobbed: ‘It’s unfair – it’s unfair – I’ve never done anything. Why should this happen to me? Vernon will blame me and I couldn’t know. How could I know?’

  Again the thought flitted across her mind:

  ‘I was so happy!’

  3

  Vernon was listening, trying to understand what the doctor was saying to him. He looked across the table at him. A tall thin man with eyes that seemed to see right into the centre of you and to read there things that you didn’t even know about yourself.

  And he made you see all the things you didn’t want to see. Made you bring things up out of the depths. He was saying:

  ‘Now that you have remembered, tell me again exactly how you saw the announcement of your wife’s marriage.’

  Vernon cried out:

  ‘Must we go over it again and again? It was all so horrible. I don’t want to think of it any more.’

  And then the doctor explained, gravely and kindly, but very impressively. It was because of that desire not to ‘think of it any more’ that all this had come about. It must be faced now – thrashed out … Otherwise the loss of memory might return.

  They went all over it again.

  And then, when Vernon felt he could bear no more, he was told to lie down on a couch. The doctor touched his forehead and his limbs, told him that he was resting – was rested – that he would become strong and happy again …

  A feeling of peace came over Vernon.

  He closed his eyes …

  4

  Vernon came down to Abbots Puissants three days later. He came in Sebastian Levinne’s car. To the butler he gave his name as Mr Green. Nell was waiting for him in the little white-panelled room where his mother had sat in the mornings. She came forward to meet him, forcing a conventional smile to her lips. The butler shut the door behind him, just in time for her to stop short before offering him her hand.

  They looked at each other. Then Vernon said:

  ‘Nell …’

  She was in his arms. He kissed her – kissed her – kissed her …

  He let her go at last. They sat down. He was quiet, rather tragic, very restrained, but for that one wild greeting. He’d gone through so much – so much in these last few days …

  Sometimes he wished they’d left him alone – as George Green. It had been jolly being George Green.

  He said stammeringly:

  ‘It’s all right, Nell. You mustn’t think I blame you. I understand … Only it hurts. It hurts like Hell. Naturally.’

  She said: ‘I didn’t mean –’

  He interrupted her.

  ‘I know, I tell you – I know! Don’t talk about it. I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to think about it even …’ He added in a different tone: ‘They say that’s my trouble. That’s how it happened.’

  She said, rather eagerly: ‘Tell me about it – about everything.’

  ‘There isn’t much to tell.’ He spoke without interest, abstractedly. ‘I was taken prisoner. How I got to be reported killed, I don’t know. At least I have a sort of vague idea. There was a fellow very like me – one of the Huns. I don’t mean a double – or anything of that sort – but just a general superficial resemblance. My German’s pretty rotten but I heard them commenting on it. They took my kit and my identification disc. I think the idea was to penetrate into our lines as me – we were being relieved by Colonial troops – and they knew it. The fellow would pass muster for a day or so and would gain the information he wanted. That’s only an idea – but it explains why I wasn’t returned in the list of prisoners and I was sent to a camp that was practically all French and Belgians. But none of that matters, does it? I suppose the Hun was killed getting through our lines and was buried as me. I had a pretty bad time in Germany – nearly died with some kind of fever on top of being wounded. Finally I escaped – oh! it’s a long story. I’m not going into all that now. I had the Hell of a time – without food and water sometimes for days at a stretch. It was a sort of miracle that I came through – but I did. I got into Holland. I was exhausted and at the same time all strung up. And I could only think of one thing – getting back to you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘And then I saw it – in a beastly illustrated paper. Your marriage. It – it finished me. But I wouldn’t face it. I kept on saying that it couldn’t be true. I went out – I don’t know where I went. Things got all mixed up in my mind.

  ‘There was a whacking great lorry coming down the road. I saw my chance – end it all – get out of it. I stepped out in front of it.’

  ‘Oh, Vernon.’ She shuddered.

  ‘And that was the end. Of me as Vernon Deyre, I mean. When I came to there was just one name in my head – George. That lucky chap, George. George Green.’

  ‘Why Green?’

  ‘A sort of fancy of mine when I was a child. And then the Dutch girl at the inn had asked me to look up a pal of hers whose name was Green and I’d written it down in a little book.’

  ‘And you didn’t remember anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Weren’t you very frightened?’

  ‘No – not at all. I didn’t seem to be worrying about anything.’ He added with lingering regret, ‘I was awfully happy and jolly.’

  Then he looked across at her.

  ‘But that doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters – but you.’

  She smiled at him but her smile was flickering and uncertain. He barely noticed it at the moment, but went on.

  ‘It’s been rather Hell – getting back. Remembering things. All such beastly things. All the things that – really – I didn’t want to face. I seem to have been an awful coward all my life. Always turning away from things I didn’t want to look at. Refusing to admit them …’

  He got up suddenly and came across to her, dropping his head upon her knees.

  ‘Darling Nell – it’s all right. I know I come first. I do, don’t I?’

  She said: ‘Of course.’
>
  Why did her voice sound so mechanical in her own ears? He did come first. Just now, with his lips on hers, she had been swept back again to those wonderful days at the beginning of the war. She had never felt about George like that … drowned … carried away …

  ‘You say that so strangely – as though you didn’t mean it.’

  ‘Of course I mean it.’

  ‘I’m sorry for Chetwynd – rotten luck for him. How has he taken it? Very hard?’

  ‘I haven’t told him.’

  ‘What?’

  She was moved to vindicate herself.

  ‘He’s away – in Spain – I haven’t got his address.’

  ‘Oh, I see …’

  He paused.

  ‘It’ll be rather rotten for you, Nell. But it can’t be helped. We’ll have each other.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Vernon looked round.

  ‘Chetwynd will have this place, anyway. I’m such an ungenerous beggar that I even grudge him that. But, damn it all, it is my home. It’s been in the family five hundred years. Oh, what does it all matter? Jane told me once that I couldn’t get everything. I’ve got you – that’s all that matters. We’ll find some place – even if it’s only a couple of rooms, it will do.’

  His arms stole up, closing round her. Why did she feel that cold dismay at those words: ‘A couple of rooms …’

  ‘Damn these things! They get in my way!’

  Impetuously – half laughing – he held up the string of pearls she wore. He switched them off – flung them on the floor. Her lovely pearls! She thought: ‘Anyway, I suppose I’ll have to give them back.’ Another cold feeling. All those lovely jewels that George had given her.

  What a brute she was to go on thinking of things like that.

  He had seen something at last. He was kneeling upright – looking at her.

  ‘Nell – is – is anything the matter?’

  ‘No – of course not.’

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. She felt too ashamed.

  ‘There is something … Tell me.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It’s nothing …’

  She couldn’t be poor again – she couldn’t – she couldn’t …

  ‘Nell, you must tell me …’

  He mustn’t know – he must never know what she was really like. She was so ashamed.

  ‘Nell – you do love me, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ The words came eagerly. That at anyrate was true.

  ‘Then what is it? I know there’s something … Ah!’

  He got up. His face had gone white. She looked up at him inquiringly.

  ‘Is it that?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘It must be. You’re going to have a child …’

  She sat as though carved in stone … She had never thought of that. If it were true, it solved everything. Vernon would never know …

  ‘It is that?’

  Again it seemed as though hours passed. Thoughts went whirling round in her brain. It was not herself, but something outside herself that at last made her bow her head ever so slightly …

  He moved a little away. He spoke in a hard dry voice.

  ‘That alters everything … My poor Nell … You can’t – we can’t … Look here, nobody knows – about me, I mean – except the doctor and Sebastian and Jane. They won’t split. I was reported dead – I am dead …’

  She made a movement – but he held up a hand to stop her and backed away towards the door.

  ‘Don’t say anything – for God’s sake, don’t say anything. Words will make it worse. I’m going. I daren’t touch you or kiss you. I – Goodbye …’

  She heard the door open – made a movement as if to call out – but no sound came from her throat. The door shut again.

  There was still time … The car hadn’t started …

  But still she didn’t move …

  She had one moment of searing bitterness when she looked into herself and thought: ‘So that’s what I’m really like …’

  But she made no sound or movement.

  Four years of soft living fettered her will, stifled her voice, and paralysed her body …

  Chapter Four

  1

  ‘Miss Harding to see you, madam.’

  Nell started. Twenty-four hours had elapsed since her interview with Vernon. She had thought it was finished. And now Jane!

  She was afraid of Jane …

  She might refuse to see her.

  She said: ‘Show her up here.’

  It was more private up here in her own sitting-room …

  What a long time it was waiting. Had Jane gone away again? No – here she was.

  She looked very tall. Nell cowered down on the sofa. Jane had a wicked face – she had always thought so. There was a look on her face now as of an avenging fury.

  The butler left the room. Jane stood towering over Nell. Then she flung back her head and laughed.

  ‘Don’t forget to ask me to the christening,’ she said.

  Nell flinched. She said haughtily:

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘It’s a family secret at present, is it? Nell, you damned little liar – you’re not going to have a child. I don’t believe you ever will have a child – too much risk and pain. What made you think of telling Vernon such a peculiarly damnable lie?’

  Nell said sullenly: ‘I never told him. He – he guessed.’

  ‘That’s even more damnable.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean coming here and – and saying things like this.’

  Her protest sounded weak – spiritless. For the life of her she couldn’t put the necessary indignation into it. With anyone else – not with Jane. Jane had always been disagreeably clear-eyed. It was awful! If only Jane would go away.

  She rose to her feet, trying to sound decisive.

  ‘I don’t know why you have come here. If it is only to make a scene …’

  ‘Listen, Nell. You’re going to hear the truth. You chucked Vernon once before. He came to me. Yes – to me. He lived with me for three months. He was living with me when you came to my flat that day. Ah! that hurts you … You’ve still got a bit of raw womanhood left in you, I’m glad to see.

  ‘You took him from me then. He went to you and never gave me a thought. He’s yours now if you want him. But I tell you this, Nell, if you let him down a second time, he’ll come to me again. Oh, yes, he will. You’ve thought things about me in your mind – turned up your nose at me as “a certain kind of woman”. Well, because of that, perhaps, I’ve got power. I know more about men than you will ever learn. I can get Vernon if I want him. And I do want him. I always have.’

  Nell shuddered. She turned her face away, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

  ‘Why do you tell me all this? You’re a devil.’

  ‘I tell it you to hurt you! To hurt you like Hell before it’s too late. No, you shan’t turn your head away. You shan’t shrink away from what I’m telling you. You’ve got to look at me and see – yes, see – with your eyes and your heart and your brain … You love Vernon with the last remaining corner of your miserable little soul … Think of him in my arms – think of his lips on mine, of his kisses burning my body … Yes, you shall think of it …

  ‘Soon you won’t mind even that. But you mind now … Aren’t you enough of a woman to jib at handing over the man you love to another woman? To a woman you hate? A present for Jane with love from Nell …’

  ‘Go away,’ said Nell faintly. ‘Go away …’

  ‘I’m going. It’s not too late … You can undo the lie you told.’

  ‘Go away … Go away …’

  ‘Do it soon – or you’ll never do it.’ Jane paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder. ‘I came for Vernon’s sake – not mine. I want him back. And I shall have him …’ she paused, ‘unless …’

  She went out.

  Nell sat with her hands clenched.

  She murmured fiercely, ‘She shan’
t have him. She shan’t …’

  She wanted Vernon. She wanted him. He had loved Jane once. He would love her again. What had she said? ‘… his lips on mine … his kisses burning my …’ Oh, God, she couldn’t bear it. She started up – moved towards the telephone.

  The door opened. She turned slowly. George came in. He looked very normal and cheerful.

  ‘Hullo, sweetheart.’ He crossed the room and kissed her. ‘Here I am – back again. A nasty crossing. I’d rather have the Atlantic than the Channel any day.’

  She had completely forgotten that George was coming home today! She couldn’t tell him this minute – it would be too cruel. And besides it was so difficult – to burst in with the tragic news in the middle of a flow of banalities. This evening – later … In the meantime she would play her part.

  She returned his embrace mechanically, sat down and listened while he talked.

  ‘I’ve got a present for you, honey. Something that reminded me of you.’

  He took a velvet case from his pocket.

  Inside, on a bed of white velvet, lay a big rose-coloured diamond – exquisite – flawless, depending from a long chain. Nell gave a little gasp of pleasure.

  He lifted the jewel from the case and slipped the chain over her head. She looked down. The exquisite rose-coloured stone blinked up at her from its resting place between her breasts. Something about it hypnotized her.

  He led her to the glass. She saw a golden-haired beautiful woman, very calm and elegant. She saw the waved and shingled hair, the manicured hands, the foamy negligee of soft lace, the cobweb silk stockings and little embroidered mules. She saw the hard cold beauty of the rose-coloured diamond.

  And behind them she saw George Chetwynd – kindly, generous, deliciously safe …

  Dear George, she couldn’t hurt him …

  Kisses … What, after all, were kisses? You needn’t think about them. Better not to think of them …

  Vernon … Jane …

  She wouldn’t think of them. For good or evil she’d made her choice. There would be bad moments sometimes, but on the whole it would be for the best. Better for Vernon too. If she weren’t happy she couldn’t make him happy …