Striking out from the steps, she did a quiet breaststroke to the other end. Eighteen times she flung out her arms before she was there. How strange it was, swimming in the dark; her body seemed light, not part of her, it was uneasy no longer. She swam back again, conscious only of her mouth swallowing air.
By the steps once more, she turned lazily on her back and floated. There was the sky above, much lighter now, and the moon would soon be out. And there, high above her, was the bushy head of the pine, like a floor mop dusting the heavens. As she had done earlier in the day, she assured herself once more how fortunate she was to have so much; how many girls were there who could swim in their own pool, play on their own tennis court? Was it just five years ago she and Mam had been living in the fifteen streets? What a lot had happened since then!
There came the flapping of the bird again, quite near now. Stopping all movement for a second, she listened. And in that second the terrifying knowledge assailed her that it was no bird: there was someone else in the pool. Her body stiffened. The flapping had stopped, but whoever made it was between her and the steps. She felt, rather than saw, the bulk of its shape. It must be a tramp off the road. The thought made her cold. Oh, why was she so silly as to come here at this time of the night? It was asking for trouble. He might kill her!
Unaware that she gave a cry of alarm, she turned and, thrashing the water with all her strength, made for the other side of the pool. Then her terror mounted to a scream in her throat as she felt the body of the man swimming alongside her. His hands came on her arms, his legs for a moment touched hers and, as she battled fiercely with him, she found herself swung upright. Her feet touched the bottom and her head just cleared the surface of the water. She was gathering breath to scream when a voice gasped, ‘Don’t be afraid, Annie. It’s me, Terence.’
The night became still again. She could make out the shape of his head and shoulders, like something disembodied floating on the water. Like one soothing a child, he said: ‘It’s all right. It’s all right.’
His hands were on her arms, holding her up. The stillness became intensified, so that she heard their short, gasping breathing. ‘Let’s swim to the steps,’ he said.
She slowly dropped into the water, but could scarcely move her limbs; all strength had gone from her. So she turned on her back and floated gently towards the steps, conscious of the strong movements of his arms near her.
The moon was coming from behind a bank of cloud, and the water looked like a sheet of silver paper, crumpled a little by the ripples from their bodies. She could see the steps as she climbed heavily up them; then the green of the grass under her feet and his feet and legs, thin and glistening; they were very close to hers, the toes pointing to her toes. The moment came when she could no longer look at his feet, and she had to raise her head. Her eyes moved up to his and were held. She could see nothing, no other feature of his face, no sky above, no trees behind, only his eyes, dark and deep in the shadow of his face, and she knew they were filled with intense pleading.
‘Annie …’ Her name seemed to rest on the air between them. ‘Annie,’ he said again. His arms were about her; their bodies met and pressed close. His mouth was on hers, hard, not like flesh at all. She was conscious of her lips being bruised against her teeth and the breath leaving her body as he pressed her mouth against his…And all she could think was: Oh, Terence! Oh, Terence! …
His grip slackened and his mouth left hers. She felt him loosen her bathing-cap with one hand and pull it gently off, and as he moved his face in her hair she thought: I can’t bear it …
In the brightness of the moon she saw the contrast of her arms against the dark skin of his neck. The wonder of it, to have her arms about Terence’s neck! She leaned against him, relaxed, listening with an unreal, joyful wonder to him murmuring, ‘Oh Annie, I love you. I love you.’
Something seemed to leap from her body and soar into the heavens…If she could only die now, at this very moment, and so be able to hold this feeling for ever! She hoped he would never stop talking.
‘I’ve wanted to do this for years and years,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve tried to forget you. I’ve done everything to put you out of my mind. But it was no use…Oh, Annie! Annie Hannigan! You’ve been a torture.’ His lips sought hers again, but more gently, and he murmured, ‘Say something to me, Annie.’
But no word came, and he pleaded again, his hands stroking her shoulder blades, ‘Annie, say you like me a little bit.’
She remained still, and he waited, his arms becoming hard like iron against her flesh.
‘I love you. I’ve always loved you, Terence.’ She could hardly hear the words herself—or believe she was speaking them. She felt his body quiver. Then she was caught up into an embrace that was neither gentle nor savage; she only knew that everything she desired was in it. It went on and on; it was like the beginning of eternity. And then she shivered, and he said, ‘You’re cold.’
‘No, no,’ she assured him breathlessly, ‘I’m not.’
He took her face between his hands, and tilted it upwards to the moon. ‘You’re like the moon, Annie, gentle and mysterious, and a little frightening.’
She laughed shakily. How funny for anyone to think she was frightening and mysterious.
He rubbed his hands gently over her arms. ‘You are shivering,’ he said. ‘You’ll catch cold, you must go in.’ There was regret in the words.
She didn’t explain to him that she always shivered when she was happy, ecstatic shivers. But she said shyly, ‘I’ve my dress here…there’s a towel in the pavilion, I’ll go and change.’
‘Will you?…Yes, do. Then you won’t catch cold. Oh, Annie’—he caught her hand as she made to go—‘is this true? Tell me it’s true. Tell me again that you love me.’
She stood mute before the wonder of his request. He was begging her to say she loved him. She suddenly threw herself against him, and kissed him with a fierceness that surprised even herself. When she would have gone he swung her off her feet. His lips still on hers, he whirled her around in the moonlight.
It wasn’t until she was standing inside the little pavilion, leaning panting against the closed door, that she thought of Cathleen. But then it was only a fleeting thought; it did not even scratch the surface of this new joy…He loved her! He had kissed her…Oh, how he had kissed her! Her body shivered anew.
As she stood drying herself, the memory of the drawing came back to her, and she said, as if to someone who was standing far off, ‘He couldn’t have posed like that. He couldn’t. It was a trick of Cathleen’s. And he couldn’t have been with her in France.’ She would let nothing, nothing touch the wonder of him.
When she went outside he was standing a few yards away, waiting for her. He was wearing a mackintosh that reached only to his knees, making his legs look longer and thinner than ever. She glanced at them, and started to laugh: ‘Oh, in this moonlight you do look funny in that mac, Terence.’
He looked down at his legs. Then he too laughed, and pulled her to him, saying, ‘Well, you’d better get used to them, for you’re going to know them a long time.’
They stared at each other, their heads pressed back on their shoulders, and he burst out, ‘Oh, why didn’t this happen at the beginning of the holidays? And I must leave the day after tomorrow for Colchester! I’ve got a temporary job there.’
They continued to stare at each other, their eyes wide and searching, until Annie exclaimed, ‘The day after tomorrow? Oh, Terence, why must you go so soon?’
He took her hand: ‘Come and sit down by the pool; we must talk.’ But they didn’t go to the pool immediately. His arms went about her again …
Since when had she loved him? Oh, as long as she could remember, from the first time she had seen him in the wood…When had he first loved her? From the night he saw her at the window…she had looked so startlingly like an angel. He had dreamt about her that night, and he had wanted to kiss her that day in the Jarrow road. What would she have done if he
had?…She would have kissed him back, hard, hard like this …
After a time she asked if he had ever loved anyone before, and he replied instantly, ‘No, never.’ Had she? Oh, no, no, never! They laughed and started to run…You see, she told herself, he’s never loved Cathleen.
When she trod on a pebble he picked her up and carried her, unprotesting, to the bank above the pool. He went down on his knees, and as he laid her on the grass he bent over her, and her heart leapt, and something within her quivered and reared itself to meet what she knew must be in his eyes. He lay down, stretching his body close beside hers, and she met his embrace. Through the thinness of her dress she felt the hard warmth of his body. His foot touched her foot, it moved up and down her calf, his mouth covered hers, and her body began to rise and float away…upwards, upwards. Then, as if flung bodily out of an ecstatic dream, she found herself on her feet. She blinked at him, dreamily, questioningly, like a bewildered child. He was holding her hands and his face was twisted, almost as if with pain. He said huskily, ‘It’s nearly twelve o’clock. You’d better go; we’ve got tomorrow.’
Perplexed, she shook her head. ‘Yes…yes… Oh, yes, I’d better go.’ Then she smiled at him.
‘Oh, Annie!’ He bent and kissed her tenderly. ‘You’re so young, so dear, so…Oh, my sweet!’
‘I’m not so young, I’m nearly nineteen,’ she said.
He brought her sandals, and put them on for her, and she rested her hand on his head as he did so. They walked up through the wood, their arms about each other. ‘You’ve never asked why I was in the pool,’ he said; ‘you know I was trespassing.’
‘I’m glad you were…I’ve often longed for you to come over.’
They turned again to each other, and the smouldering fire flamed up once more. But again it was he who broke away and moved on, just holding her hand now, until they reached the cypress hedge. He continued to talk as if there had been no break in the conversation: ‘I must confess I’ve often used your pool. But I’ve always waited until about twelve o’clock. But tonight it was so hot.’
‘How do you get in?’ she asked.
‘I drop down into the stream from the bottom of our garden, plodge up, climb the bank, and there I am…Simple! I won’t come any further,’ he added; ‘someone might see me. And then what would they say?’ He laughed down at her, and took her face between his hands once more: ‘You’re beautiful, Annie…too beautiful. Say again you love me.’
‘I love you, Terence. Oh, I do, I do.’ Then with a shy burst of candour she whispered, ‘I think you’re wonderful.’
He became quite serious. ‘Annie, don’t say that, don’t even think it, for you’ll be so disappointed. There’s nothing wonderful about me, God knows.’ He laughed ruefully: ‘I’ve got a vile temper and I’m as stubborn as ten mules. And I’m still skinny! Remember? You were always so sorry for me. Take me as I am, Annie—please.’
‘I’m stubborn too,’ she cried. ‘And I’ll always think you’re wonderful; there’s no-one in the world like you.’
A cold hand was suddenly laid on his brimming happiness…This was what he had always feared from her, this wholesale adoration. It would demand perfection in return. It was one of the things that had subconsciously kept him away from her. She must take him as he was.
If only he had told her he loved her last Christmas! Then he and Cathleen…Oh God! ‘If, if …’ That was done, past, forgotten. He loved Annie above everything in the world, he always had. There was nothing to stop him living up to her idea of him from now on. But he must make her see…The wonder of the night was a little dimmed; the old unsure feeling returned for a moment, to be swamped again by the intoxication of her. ‘Go on in,’ he said shakily, ‘before I don’t let you go at all…Good-night, my Annie.’
They stood close for a moment; then she was gone. But she had gone only a few yards when he caught her again and whispered urgently, ‘How soon can you get out in the morning?…Will you come cycling?’
‘I can be up by six,’ she whispered back.
He laughed softly. ‘No, you must get more sleep; make it eight. I’ll be at the gate at eight o’clock. Good-night, Annie Hannigan.’
Her feet skimmed the ground as she ran to the house, and they carried her body as though it were the lightest piece of thistledown. She quietly let herself in and stood listening. But only her excited breathing made any sound. When she reached her room she flung herself on the bed. Oh the joy, the joy of this night!
She lay with her face turned away from the altar. Tomorrow or the next day she would have to face that, but tonight there was only Terence. Her Terence—he was her Terence now—her wonderful Terence! He was so good and kind and gentle. She would think about him all night, she wouldn’t sleep. She never wanted to sleep again.
When the moon was high in the sky it flooded the room and shone on her, lying on her back fast asleep, still dressed.
11
At seven-thirty Annie followed Mrs Summers into Kate and Rodney’s room. She laid the tray with the early-morning tea on the bedside table with the remark, ‘Some people are up with the lark these mornings! Good-morning, ma’am. Good-morning, sir,’ she added.
Rodney grunted, and Kate said sleepily, ‘Thanks, Summy.’ Then, blinking at Annie, she said, ‘Where are you off to at this time?’
Something about Annie’s face made Kate sit up and shake the sleep from her eyes. But she waited until Mrs Summers had left the room before saying, ‘What’s the matter? Where are you going?’
‘I’m…I’m going for a ride…And, Mam…I may not be back for breakfast.’
‘Must have your breakfast before you go out,’ Rodney grunted from the pillow. ‘No breakfast yesterday …’
‘Where are you going?’ asked Kate.
‘I…I don’t know. Oh, Mam, I’ll tell you after.’
Kate looked at her enquiringly. ‘What time will you be back then?’
‘I don’t really know.’
‘She doesn’t know,’ grunted Rodney again.
Annie moved close to Kate and whispered, ‘I’m going out with Terence.’
‘Terence?’
‘Yes.’
‘But when…?’
‘I saw him last night.’
‘Last night?’
‘Yes. I went down to the pool. I couldn’t sleep…He was there.’
‘But, Annie, you didn’t go down there at night? Why…Why, anything could have happened to you. You never know who is in the …’ She stopped as she felt Rodney’s hand under the bedclothes, pressing a warning into her back. And Annie was smiling mischievously at Kate when Rodney muttered, ‘Macbane in our pool! Aah, I’ll have to look into this, the cheek of it! He gets about, does that Macbane.’
Kate looked hard at her daughter. Behind the pleasure of knowing that Terence and she had at last come together she felt a momentary fear at the apparent vulnerability of Annie. She was so young and fresh; her strange beauty at this moment was breathtaking. Kate knew that all Annie’s being would be offered together with her heart; where she loved she would hide nothing. She’ll suffer for it, Kate thought, as I did. Oh, the heart-rending youngness of youth! Unless he loves her very much there’ll be no limit to her suffering. Oh God, make him love her well. And keep Cathleen Davidson away, she prayed, almost childishly. She remembered Terence’s letter which had borne no fruit, and again she repeated, Keep Cathleen Davidson away.
She reached up and kissed Annie, then pushed her away, saying, ‘Go on, and take a snack with you; you are bound to feel hungry.’
Annie sped downstairs and packed some bacon sandwiches under Summy’s comments about people ruining their health by riding bikes on empty stomachs. She hugged Summy, saying, ‘Darling, I think you are old enough to know people don’t ride on their stomachs, they use their other sides.’
Laughing, she dashed out and upstairs again to pay a flying visit to the nursery, where the sight of Angela added in some strange way to the total of her happiness.
He opened the gate and took her bicycle. They smiled at each other but didn’t speak. He pushed the two cycles some way along the road before he said, ‘Now I know I’m not dreaming.’
She looked away, unable to meet his eyes…He looked different in the daylight, taller, more tanned, more alert. All his body looked hard and taut, only his eyes were soft.
At the curve of the lane he supported the cycles against each other, and turned and took her into his arms. He kissed her slowly, reverently, the passion of last night gone; they murmured each other’s names; then, laughing a little self-consciously, they mounted their cycles and rode away into the sunshine.
All day they were together, Terence accepting Kate’s invitation to lunch and tea. There was a mounting feeling of pride in Annie as she listened to him talking with Rodney. Although there was a certain deference in Terence’s manner, he expressed his opinions quietly and fearlessly, and Annie could see that Rodney liked him more than a little. The day seemed packed with endless joy.
It was after tea that Terence said to her, ‘Come along, I want to show you my cave.’
‘Your cave?’ she enquired. ‘What cave?’
‘It’s a magic cave, and it’s entirely mine…I feel sure of that.’
‘But where is it? All the caves along the coast are well known.’
‘You wait and see. Come on.’
He took her hand and they ran down the lane like children let loose, laughing and shouting at each other. When they reached the stream he said, ‘If we cross the stream here it will cut off half a mile.’
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