‘This is more than I deserve, or expected.’
She kissed him and passed the coffee. ‘It’s time you got out of bed and faced the day. There’s clearing up to do.’
‘There aren’t any trains to catch.’
When he got up to dress she saw that he wore the golden Star of David found in the box of his mother’s belongings. Hanging at his chest it made him look like a swimmer about to put on his clothes and set off on an arduous dry-land trek. He treasured it like a talisman that would stop bullets or make wounds vanish. But she wanted to hear why he wore it.
‘As far as I could gather, it was the only wish my grandmother, and then my mother, had for me. I’m happy to wear it for them – which also means, of course, that I feel a need to wear it for myself.’
‘It looks good on you,’ she said. ‘I like it.’ He seemed less starkly conventional, more human. She thought that making love would bring them together before beginning the day, but he got into his pants and vest, then sat on the bed to eat breakfast.
‘I intended getting up early, but got lost in what I was doing. It’s part of a sailor’s pride not to turn into the sort of a man who can’t look after himself, though I’ve never known a sailor who said no to being spoiled occasionally.’
‘Well, I’ll do my best not to mummy you,’ she said.
He looked at her, as if the more he knew her the more mysterious she would become. She decided it must be so, because she often looked at him in that way. She didn’t like him ‘weighing her up’ so obviously. She did it to him every moment they were together, which he no doubt found equally objectionable. He must smile inwardly at such times. Yet what did two people do if they weren’t continually judging one another, and trying to find out what the other thought, or forming opinions which they wouldn’t say aloud for fear the other might not like it? The mind raced with words unspoken and unspeakable. More often than not they looked at one another and said nothing, only giving an affectionate smile to signify a truce between their warlike curiosities when they caught each other out but knew they needed to stay friends, which she realized was essential, at any rate for her, while hoping he assumed it was beneficial for him.
The process of his dressing eliminated her thoughts. He put on a white shirt and did up each button beginning from the bottom. Her observation amused him. For order and neatness he took his time. He opened the wardrobe and brought out a pair of grey trousers, held them in both hands, and bent slightly to draw them on, covering the white scar on his lower leg which, he said, had been caused by a piece of shrapnel.
She hadn’t seen a man dress for years. George had done so while she lay half asleep, sitting on the edge of the bed to get his trousers over his knees before standing to pull them to his waist.
Tom fastened his belt. ‘You haven’t told me whether you’re going to give me a hand in sorting out my affairs.’ He pulled his socks on while standing up, then took a pair of brown shoes from under the bed. ‘The offer still stands.’
He probably polished them the night before. ‘I seem to be doing the job already.’
He stood at the mirror, and double-knotted his tie. ‘It’s stupid of me to want the matter all wrapped up. Old habits are still dying too damned hard.’
‘Maybe if they do die there won’t be much left,’ she laughed. ‘You want to be careful!’
She felt herself trembling to kneel and tie his shoelaces. The physical check on going forward needed all her effort, and she coloured at the thought that he might have noticed. He glanced, then sat on the bed to fasten them himself.
‘If I’m to act as your secretary, general factotum, or willing runabout, I suggest we get the boxes you want to save back into the small room, and take the others to the dustbins. Don’t throw anything away that you’ll regret later. You’ve got plenty of storage space.’
The arrangement, with no definable boundaries, had many uncertainties, but after existing so long under the terms of a too rigid contract, such a state satisfied her. She could be everything to him, or nothing, just as she liked. She would have fled from a firmer liaison. The unknown force of any emotional ties would have to be dealt with sooner or later, but the undeniable fact was that she liked him, whether or not he was also laying down snares for her. As long as everything remained uncertain between them she was not afraid.
6
The weather promised dry. They bought picnic food and got on to a bus which took them beyond all buildings and traffic. She hadn’t wanted to be left in the flat while he went to draw cash from his bank, and once in the fresh air he suggested they go on to the Downs and walk.
He held back so that she could come level. The sea was far off when they turned to look, a midday haze over the town. White gulls swooped the woods to their right as if to pounce on food. He liked the sound. They met ships far from land. The noise of gulls from the English coast had a distinctive sound. Their squawk was shriller, more demanding than in other places. They knew their rights, and would see that they got them. English gulls, sure enough – the epitome of the Australians’ ‘wingeing Pom’. But they flew more gracefully, performed more subtle aerobatics, and if enough food weren’t thrown over the side and sent bobbing around in the wake they shot-up the window of the wheelhouse and made the most unholy mess. That was English gulls for you, he said. They picked up their characters from the land they guarded, and from the air they breathed when reconnoitring Romney Marsh or the Sussex cliffs.
He talked all sorts of nonsense, she thought, glad because it saved her saying much. She felt happy at being with him in the winter landscape. From Ditchling Beacon they looked at sheep stippling the steep banks, and the village of Westmeston tucked at the foot of the hill, smoke coming straight up from cottage chimneys. There was a car parked nearby whose occupants had gone walking along the ridge. Inside another car were people eating so that, Pam said, they might just as well have stayed at home to watch the scenery on television. The tinny noise of a radio came from their metal tomb. She put an arm around him: ‘I’m hungry.’
‘For food?’
‘It’s too cold for anything else.’
They ate sandwiches. ‘I haven’t walked so far for a long time.’
‘At sea I used to pace the deck, and in empty moments dream of doing twenty miles a day or more with a rucksack, sleeping in inns or farms, going through Switzerland, or trekking from Land’s End to John o’ Groats. Probably my feet would pack in after a week, but I liked to think of moving under nobody’s steam but my own. We must do it together.’
Who could blame him for making such a casual suggestion on a day like this? But life was too uncertain for plans, or even the haziest of expectations. ‘Maybe we shall.’
He kissed her, yet found it difficult to reconcile the stern set of her face with the passion that gave it such life when they were in bed. Passing other people, he carried the knowledge of their lovemaking, however distant she seemed by his side. ‘We must eat the cakes,’ he said, ‘if only to lighten the load. Then we should go, because the weather looks like closing in. It doesn’t rain up here. It snows.’
The cold air penetrated to the bone when standing still. The camel-hair coat, as well as scarf, woolly hat, gloves, woollen stockings and lace-up walking shoes seemed flimsy. Occasional beams of sun shone on woods across the narrow road.
After a mile she was warm. He held her gloved hand as they went along. Few cars passed. The gulls’ cries were muted against air threatening to turn into a mist. She felt they were the only two people alive. The land was dark and ungiving, and there was nothing to do but reach the shelter of buildings.