by Tim Jeal
‘No, I’m not,’ he hastily agreed.
‘I’m so, so happy, darling. Then we really can begin again?’
George nodded his agreement. He was filled with a profound feeling of well-being, it caressed his shattered body with fingers softer than peach skin.
‘I’m happy too,’ he said at last. But what if this was merely a passing mood of sentimentalism fostered by pity? Her rejection when he had rung her up those months ago had been as real as this strange reversal.
‘Are you sure about what you’re doing?’
‘Yes, as sure as I ever am about anything, but you know how hopeless I am.’
‘But weren’t you equally sure about never seeing me again after I left?’
‘I know that you were foolish once but now time has healed. I’m not strong enough or silly enough to keep away from you for the sake of my pride. I only realised how much I needed you when I read about your accident. And besides I just know that some things can’t be undone whatever happens afterwards. Now I can look back more clearly without anger. I was only blinded for a little while. I must have known it for a long time, known I mean that I wanted you back because I had forgiven. It was only the article that told me, that forced me, to have the courage to discover whether you would ever come back.’
‘There are things which have to be felt rather than thought. I know that,’ said George hoping that this was the right answer.
Ruth nodded. George was afraid for a moment that she was going to cry. But she blinked away her tears and said:
‘I don’t think I’ve ever really felt so like crying with happiness. I thought it was all a lie, but now I know it’s true.’
She dabbed her eyes with a small handkerchief and sat looking at him, smiling through her tears.
It was only then that she was aware of the bag of fruit that she had been clasping all the time.
‘I’ve brought you these. I don’t expect they’re all that good. But I’ll bring back more every day and much nicer. Lots of grapes and pears.’
Suddenly George was laughing. It was all so intolerably funny. He remembered the woman at the zoo and the gorilla and then about his present situation. Then he thought of something else.
‘Do you remember when you used to bring me fruit twenty years ago?’
‘And in hospital too. How could I ever forget the days that changed my life?’
*
David was sitting listening to a concert when Ruth got back to the flat. She hadn’t waited for the lift, but had run up the stairs.
‘David, darling,’ she gasped. ‘He’s coming back. George is coming back … I can hardly believe it, but it’s true.’
She ran across the room lightly and flopped into a chair. Beethoven thundered on unheard. David’s mouth hung open, slowly the corners turned upwards into a smile.
‘Everything is going to be all right after all,’ he said quietly. He repeated the words several times to convince himself. Then quite suddenly he leapt to his feet and, running over to the radio, turned it up as high as it would go and, with generous sweeping movements, started to conduct.
ELEVEN
GEORGE had been out of hospital a week already and Ruth felt that he was ready for the journey. Of course they would stop off on the way at hotels, so that he did not get overtired.
*
The car was loaded by 9.00 a.m. so they would get a nice early start.
Carefully Ruth lifted George’s feet up into the car. The marvellous thing about it all was that he did not mind being helped. She had been awfully worried in case he had tried to do everything himself. But George was so sensible over everything.
The cottage in Wales had been kept a careful secret. So had the sale of Trelawn. He might blame himself or get angry unless it was made impossible for him. But how could he possibly be annoyed if they were already on their way for the first holiday together since their reunion? Ruth smiled at her ingenuity.
*
Nearly an hour later George was looking down at the water under Staines Bridge as they drove on west. Funny to think that a month ago he had been certain that he would never be making the journey to Trelawn again. But life was like that. It just happens, just a lot of chances. An attack of earache, a bottle of scent, a careless lorry driver and a pile of old newspapers. Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of everything that made it all worth while.
*
As the suburbs gave way to the fields he glanced at Ruth’s hands on the wheel, holding it with the strength of the past. She still wore the rings he had seen when he first met her. Today she seemed so strong and resolute, so dependable in her large fur coat. Her face wore an expression of quiet thoughtfulness.
‘What are you thinking of?’ he asked.
‘Oh, nothing dear. Only how we used to play games with the children on this road. A penny for every cow, two for a goat … you remember?’
‘I remember.’
And George also remembered Steven. A momentary feeling of disquiet led him to ask:
‘What happened to Steven?’
‘He went away.’
‘I see. I’m sorry.’
Ruth nodded. Poor Steven, thought George, what chance had he got against the unpredictability of lorry drivers and newspapers in drawers?
He looked at Ruth and was surprised to see that she was smiling.
‘Nothing else has changed, darling, has it?’
‘Nothing really,’ said George, looking down at his legs.
‘Promise you’ll never ever try to run away again?’
George thought of the wheelchair in the back of the car.
‘I promise.’
‘Even if I take you to live in a tiny doll’s house without much money?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said George, laughing. He had forgotten how funny Ruth could be.
Copyright
This ebook edition first published in 2013
by Faber and Faber Ltd
Bloomsbury House
74–77 Great Russell Street
London WC1B 3DA
All rights reserved
© Tim Jeal, 1967
Preface © Tim Jeal, 2013
The right of Tim Jeal to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN 978–0–571–30388–5