by Andrew Garve
The knowledge of what she had to do oppressed her, but she had no intention of spoiling their last morning and as they reached the plateau that commanded Rocamadour her interest sounded unforced. They left the jeep and walked through the fantastic perched-up village with its real and pseudo relics and its air of commercialised pilgrimage that scarcely detracted from its fascination. They climbed to the château and from its ramparts gazed down in awe at the diminutive rooftops of the cottage hundreds of feet below, Julie drawing back a little with a gasp of dismay at the height, and glad of Ben’s reassuring grip. They refreshed themselves with vin blanc on a terrace swathed in bougain-villea and then made an unsuccessful search for, what the guidebooks said was Roland’s Sword.
When they had had their fill of sight-seeing they returned to the jeep and drove out on to a deserted road till they came to a place where a solitary juniper threw enough shade for lunch. It was a wild and arid spot, with a view over immense empty hills and no sign of life anywhere. There was a gentle heat murmur, and when they moved through the short sparse grass myriads of huge strange grasshoppers flew up with bright wings of blue and red, as pretty as moths. It was a place that Julie felt she would always remember.
When they had finished the meal and were lying back with cigarettes alight, looking up at the blue sky through dust-coloured leaves, Julie said: “I thought you were going to tour Switzerland, Germany and Holland, Ben?”
He turned his face lazily towards her, and grinned. “I thought your husband was coming back last Sunday!”
“That hasn’t anything to do with it. What I mean is … Ben, you’re not going in for knight-errantry on my account, are you? Because …”
“I know,” he said. “Because you’re not anybody’s lost property and you can look after yourself perfectly well … Isn’t that what you were going to say?”
His teasing smile was so full of affection that her eyes dropped before his glance and she felt the pricking of tears.
“Look, Julie,” he said, sitting up, “we don’t have to pretend with each other. I stuck around here because I liked being with you, and if you think it was out of pity for a poor lonely girl you’re crazy.” Then he added: “Of course, if what you’re really trying to say is that you want me to go—well, for Pete’s sake, honey, just say it. I’m a great awkward clod but I’ll understand.” He saw her turn her head away sharply and frowned. “Maybe it isn’t that either. Something special’s upset you to-day, hasn’t it? Come on, honey, tell Uncle Ben. What’s happened?”
Julie was fiercely stubbing the end of her cigarette into the grass. At the gentleness in Ben’s voice her self-control suddenly broke and she gave a little sob. In an instant Ben’s arms were round her shoulders, tender and comforting. That was her undoing. Her over-wrought nerves gave way and: she buried her face against him in an abandonment of weeping, while he murmured soothing, indistinguishable things into her ear.
It didn’t last long. Presently she struggled free from his embrace and sat up, blowing her nose fiercely. “I’m a fool” she said crossly, “a perfect fool!“ She sniffed. “It’s partly your fault, too—don’t you know you should never sympathise with a hysterical idiot? You ought to be telling me to snap out of it, not encouraging me to cry on your shoulder.”
“I guess I haven’t had enough practice. C’mon, then, snap out of it. And now tell me what’s eating you.”
“I—I’ve had a telegram from Laurence.”
“About time, too! I still don’t see, though …”
“He’s not coming till next Sunday, at the earliest.”
“So—o—o! And you’re missing him badly—is that it?”
“No—I’m not. That’s part of the trouble. I’m not missing him, Ben, I’m having a wonderful time, but …”—Julie’s voice shook—“… oh, Ben, I’m feeling so terribly humiliated.”
He looked at her as though he only partly comprehended. “You see—well, I suppose there may be something important detaining him but I can’t believe it’s as terribly vital as all that. And at least he could let me know what it is, but he doesn’t say anything. I think he’s just not caring all that much about getting back.… It’s pretty awful to feel you’ve sunk yourself completely in someone else and then find you’re not appreciated.”
“You’re telling me, honey! I’ve done that, too. Still …”—he gave her a puzzled look—“… aren’t you magnifying this thing a bit, maybe? I mean, you say yourself the guy may be genuinely held up. Or is there something else I don’t know about? I guess there must be—it would take more than one isolated incident to get you into this state.” Julie sighed. “There is, I suppose, but nothing specific—just an atmosphere and a lot of little things you’d think were pretty insignificant if I tried to tell you about them. Anyway, I feel horrible talking like this about Laurence when he isn’t here. He’s a difficult type but I know all about him and I just have to accept it, that’s all. Only sometimes it gets me down.”
Ben was silent for a while. He wanted to help, but it was her tangle, not his.
“Look, Julie …” he said at last, in the rueful tone of a man about to tell a story against himself, “here’s something I didn’t mean to say to you ever, but I guess I will. I think you’re the most wonderful person I ever met. I’ve fallen for you head over heels. I didn’t intend to—in fact I had every intention of not doing—but it’s happened. When I found myself getting more than interested in you, pretty well right from the start, I told myself I’d better clear out – but then I figured I could keep everything under control and that anyway you didn’t know, and there was your husband besides. But—well, now that you’re feeling down and out over one sap who doesn’t know when he’s well off, maybe it’ll help to know there’s another sap ready to lie down and let you walk over him. I’d do anything for you, Julie. Why, goddam it, I could almost wish you happily re-united with that M.P. of yours if that’s the way you want it.”
She smiled through her tears. “You’re so sweet, but that’s one of the troubles—I’m not even sure that I do want Laurence, and after seven years that’s a pretty shattering doubt.”
Ben stared at her, incredulous hope dawning in his eyes. “Julie, what are you saying?”
“Well, I’m not at all sure that I’m not beginning to fall in love with you.”
He longed to take her at her word, but the undertone of reservation warned him that this was no declaration. The rueful look came back. “Why not just go straight ahead, honey? What’s stopping you?”
“Ben, I can’t. It’s not as simple as that. Don’t you realise, I’m married. I’ve lived with a man for seven years and I’ve put everything I have and am into that existence. I can’t have the whole thing wiped out in a matter of hours, almost. It can’t have mattered so little.”
“Why not? It may have been a big mistake.”
“Well, I don’t want to think it has mattered so little. It’s—it’s humiliating.”
Ben frowned. “That’s twice you’ve used that word, Julie. I’d say it was pretty revealing. I’d say there was something badly wrong with your marriage if you’re worrying about humiliation. Don’t you know, honey, that love—real love—hasn’t any pride? I admit I don’t know much about you both, but I’d guess that what you feel for him now isn’t love but—well, habit, and maybe something to do with the maternal instinct. And I just don’t see how he can have any real love for you—leaving you eating your heart out for him here like this and not knowing all about it in his bones.”
A look of obstinacy had settled on Julie’s face while he was speaking. “You may be right, Ben, I don’t know—but let’s not talk about it any more. I shouldn’t have started it in the first place. There’s nothing to be done. It was only because I was upset about the telegram and knowing he wasn’t coming back till Sunday.”
Ben gave a little shrug of resignation. “Okay, honey, have it your own way. God knows I don’t want to make things more difficult for you. What happens now, though—do I
still stick around and help you pass the time?” He grinned. “Now that you know my guilty secret?”
She laughed, a little tremulously. “Ben, your secret! You know it’s only because we’ve been together so much and had such fun and everything’s been so marvellous. You’re not really in love with me.”
“That’s just where you’re wrong, Julie. I’m not kidding!”
Suddenly, as though he knew this was the only opportunity he’d ever have to show her what he felt, he seized her in his arms and crushed her to him and kissed her mouth with passion. The laughter went out of Julie’s eyes and for a moment she clung to him in disbelief, staring into his face as though she had had a revelation. Then she murmured, “Oh, Ben!” and met his lips with her own.
When at last he released her she was breathless and a little pale and almost frightened at her own emotion. “Ben,” she said softly, “I didn’t know. At least, I wasn’t sure. Darling … I love you.”
“Honey!”
“I didn’t think it possible in so short a time … Oh, Ben, what have we done?”
“We’ve fallen in love, that’s all. Easiest thing in the world.” His arms went round her again, but she drew away from him.
“Ben, it’s no good, we’ve got to be sensible.”
“Why? Whoever heard of people in love being sensible?”
“Don’t, please! I mean it. I am in love with you, I want to be with you all the time, but—it’s no good, we’re just being absurd and romantic. It’s being alone in this lovely place, it’s being lonely, it’s—oh, Ben, it can’t be the real thing.”
“Give if a chance, honey. I think it is. I think it’s the beginning of something big and lasting …”
“No, Ben! I must have been mad …”
“You said you loved me, and I think you meant it,”
“But there’s no future in it.”
“There could be—in time. You could marry me.”
Slowly she shook her head. “I can’t. It isn’t anything to do with what I feel, I just can’t. I must go home. I ought to have gone before—I oughtn’t to have let all this happen. Oh, Ben, I’m sorry—for both of us.”
“You don’t love him,” Ben persisted.
“I don’t know what I feel—I’m so confused. You may be right about him and me—perhaps the whole thing between us has been built on a false foundation. I’m not sure—I shall have to see. But in any case I must go. I must behave as though nothing has happened here. Perhaps I’ll find that nothing has happened—that this is just an infatuation. I—I hope so.”
“And if you don’t?”
Her eyes met his. “I shall still stay, if I think that he needs me. And I think he does. Oh, Ben, please try to understand.”
He gazed at her with hopeless longing. It was hard to be given a glimpse of heaven and then find it a mirage—but her tone was so pleading that he hadn’t the heart to press her any more. She didn’t want to be persuaded. Even if he could beat down her doubts and scruples, there was no fingerpost pointing to happiness that way.
“I understand, honey,” he said at last. “you feel you’ve made a life investment and even if it’s turned out badly you’re not going to cut your losses. That was clear enough before—I was a darned fool to grab you and start all this.” He felt for a cigarette and snapped his lighter on. “It looks like good-bye for us, then.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so, Ben darling—it’s good-bye.” She scanned his rigid face. “I’m sorry that you’re hurt—you’ve been such a dear.”
He said wryly, “I guess we’ll both manage. And after all, I didn’t expect anything different—only for a couple of seconds, anyway. I thought you’d be the kind of woman who’d behave this way. Maybe that’s why I fell for you in the first place.”
He looked away across the empty hills. “You know, something like this once happened to me before—when I was more vulnerable. I took a header, and the water turned out to be shallower than I thought, and I was just about knocked unconscious. I never meant that to happen again. It hasn’t, either—not in the same way. I’ve taken a header, all right, but it’s turned out to be the warmest, most sparkling sea ever. I’ll never regret it, honey. And I hope things’ll turn out as you want them.” He smiled at her. “Of course, if before we separate you get to thinking that maybe I could prise you away from that husband of yours—well, just let me know.”
“I will, Ben—but don’t expect it.” Her eyes were misty.
“Okay. Now what say we go? I guess our party’s about over.”
Julie nodded, and they silently gathered up their things. There was only one way to deal with a situation like this, and that was to end it with speed and dignity.
As soon as they got back to the hotel Julie wrote out a telegram for Laurence. At first she said simply, “Am coming home.” It was Ben who suggested she should add, “Please acknowledge.” It would be too absurd, she agreed, if after all this waiting she and Laurence were to cross en route, so that he finished up in the Dordogne and she in Cumberland. Ben strolled with her down to the post office, looking pretty grim. He had reconciled himself to the inevitable by now, but the finality of the telegram was still hard to take.
They dined together as usual that evening, because it would have bean even more difficult not to, but there was no possibility of recapturing the old carefree relationship. They were actors now, struggling through banal lines to a dreary curtain. They had a last drink on the terrace and then Ben made a move.
“I guess I’d better go and throw my things together,” he said. “I shall get out first thing to-morrow, Julie—I think it’s best that way. You’ll probably be off yourself in the afternoon, anyway.”
Julie nodded. “All right, Ben. I’ll come upstairs with you. We can’t say good-bye here.”
They went up to her room and Ben took her gently in his arms and kissed her once, without passion. “Good-bye, Julie.”
“Good-bye, Ben—thank you for everything.” She clung to him for a moment. “It’s going to be so hard to forget you.”
“It’s a pity you’ve got to try,” said Ben. “Unnecessary, I think. Still—so long, honey. Good luck.” He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and was gone.
Chapter Seven
Julie lingered in her room next morning, not wanting to run the risk of an awkward last-minute encounter. Instead she watched Ben’s preparations for departure from her window, wishing she had the strength not to but unable to drag herself away. She saw him standing beside the jeep, chatting to Madame, seemingly quite carefree. He was even smiling—how could he smile? Then his luggage was put in and he climbed up and drove away without a single backward glance.
Well, that was that! Now the sooner she followed his example the better—this place had too many memories, and partings were always worse for the person left behind. She should be getting a telegram any time. She did what packing she could and wrote some postcards that ought to have been sent off days before. Then she got out the neglected Riley and had it filled with petrol and oil in readiness for the long journey ahead.
After lunch, when there was still no word from Laurence, it suddenly occurred to her to try telephoning. A long distance call might be hard on her travel allowance but it was better than hanging about for a telegram that didn’t come. Anyway, it would help to fill up the time. It took her quite a while to get through to Blean and then there was no reply from the cottage, so she left the call in. Just to be on the safe side, she also rang the flat. This time the connexion was made more quickly, but again there was no reply and she left that call in too.
She spent the afternoon with a pile of magazines, sitting on a grassy slope behind the hotel from which she could be fetched quickly to the telephone. She tried not to dwell on Ben, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him. She wondered where he had gone to, what his plans were, what he was really feeling. She missed him horribly. If only Laurence would ring!
All through the long afternoon and evening she waited, he
r nerves jumping every time the phone went. When, by eleven o’clock, Laurence had still not come through, she decided there could be only one explanation—he must have changed his mind and left already for France. It was a good thing that she’d curbed her impatience and not gone rushing off home as she’d wanted to do. To-morrow he’d arrive.
When the maid came in with coffee and croissants at nine next morning she pointed to a telegram on the tray. Julie thanked her with a smile and opened it eagerly, certain that it would tell her he was on his way. Instead, she read: NO POINT IN YOUR COMING BACK DEFINITELY JOINING YOU WEDNESDAY.
She stared at it, bewildered and incredulous. It was obviously a reply to her own wire and it had been dispatched from Blean, so he must have been at the cottage yesterday. Why hadn’t he taken her phone call?
She read the short message again. Wednesday! He expected her to stay here alone for almost another week! And still there was no letter, still no word of regret or explanation. It was unforgivable.
Fury suddenly possessed her—fury at Laurence and fury at herself. What a fool she’d been to let Ben go rushing off like that! They could have been having a wonderful time together if she hadn’t been so observed with the idea of doing her duty and standing by her marriage vows. It was obvious that Laurence didn’t care two hoots about her any more, or he’d never have treated her in this cavalier fashion. His attitude showed an almost contemptuous indifference. Her loyalty had been utterly thrown away. And to think she’d imagined that he needed her!
Still simmering with anger, though with no clearly-formed intentions, she dressed and went downstairs to the reception desk. She forced a smile as the proprietress greeted her and hesitated a moment as she sought to frame her question without giving herself away.
“I seem to have Mr. Traill’s cigarette case,” she said, in as casual a tone as possible. “Did he leave any forwarding address, by any chance?”