«All right, all right.»
«And we'll talk seriously and look at the text in detail?»
«Yes, yes.»
«Oh I am so pleased with the boots.»
When we parted company at the station and I looked into those purely coloured blue eyes I could not bring myself to dim her joy by asking her to lie, even though I had by then thought of a fairly ingenious cock-and-bull story.
It was not until later that I remembered that she had gone away still wearing my socks.
Somehow or other it was twelve noon. Returning eastward to my flat I felt a good deal more sober, and I soon regretted my «high– minded» failure to silence Julian. Out of some ridiculous sense of dignity I had failed to take an absolutely essential precaution. When Julian blurted out about meeting me, what would Arnold guess, what would Rachel devise, what would she confess? Trying, and failing, to get the problem into focus I felt a guilty excited painful feeling not unlike sexual desire. Julian must be home by now. What was happening? Perhaps nothing. I felt an intense need to telephone Rachel at once, but knew that this would be profitless. «Knowing the worst» would have to wait awhile.
«Where's Priscilla?»
«Don't take on, Brad. She's back at my place.»
Christian had taken off her shoes, which were lying on the bed. Her trim pearly-silky legs were neatly crossed. Legs are ageless.
«How dare you interfere!»
«I didn't, I just came to visit her, and she was so tearful and low and saying you were going to go away and leave her, so I said, 'Why not come back to me,' and she said she wanted to, so I sent her and Francis off in a taxi.»
«My sister is not a sort of ping-pong ball.»
«Don't be so cross, Brad. Now you can go away with a clear conscience.»
«I don't want to go away.»
«Well, Priscilla thought you did.»
> «I'm going right away now to fetch her back.»
«Brad, don't be silly. It's far better for her to be at Notting Hill. I've asked a doctor to see her this afternoon. Do leave her in peace for a bit.»
«Did Arnold come to you this morning?»
«He came to see me. Why do you say 'come to you' in that meaningful way? He was very upset by your spiteful review. Why ever did you send it to him? Why cause pain just like that? You wouldn't like it if someone did it to you.»
«Did he come to cry on your shoulder?»
«No. He came to discuss a business project.»
«Business?»
«Yes. We're going into business together. I have a lot of spare money, so has he. I didn't spend all my time in Illinois at the Ladies' Guild. I helped Evans run his business. At the end I ran his business. I'm not going to idle around over here. I'm going into lingerie. And Arnold is going with me.»
«Why did you never tell me you were Jewish?»
«You were never interested enough to find out.»
«So you and Arnold are going to make money together. Has it occurred to you to wonder how Rachel might feel?»
«Aren't you after Rachel?»
«What makes you imagine that?»
«Rachel told Arnold you were.»
«Rachel told Arnold I was after her?»
«Yes. They had a good laugh together.»
«You're lying,» I said. I left the room. Christian called after me, «Brad, let's be friends, please.»
I had reached the front door with some general intention of going to fetch Priscilla and with a more immediate need to get away from Christian when the bell rang. I opened the door at once and there was Arnold.
He gave a well-prepared smile, apologetic, ironical, rueful.
I said, «Your business partner is here.»
«So she told you?»
«Yes. You're going into lingerie. Come in.»
«Hello, honey,» said Christian behind me, welcoming Arnold. They trooped into the sitting-room, and after a moment's hesitation I followed them. Christian, who was still putting her shoes on, was wearing a handsome cotton dress of an exceptionally vivid shade of green. Of course I could see now that she was Jewish: that curvy clever mouth, that wily rounded-off nose, those veiled snaky eyes. She was as handsome as her dress, a queen in Israel.
I said to Arnold, «Did you know that she was Jewish?»
«Who? Christian? Of course. I found it out on our first meeting.»
«How?»
«I asked.»
«Brad thinks we're having some sort of romance,» said Christian.
«Look,» said Arnold, «there's nothing between Chris and me except friendship. You've heard of that, haven't you?»
«It can't exist between a man and a woman,» I said. I had only just, with sudden clairvoyance, realized this for certain.
«It can if they're intelligent enough,» said Christian.
«Married people can't have friendships,» I said. «If they do, they're faithless.»
«Don't worry about Rachel,» said Arnold.
«But I do, oddly enough. I felt very worried about her when I saw her the other day with a black eye you'd given her.»
«I didn't give her the black eye. It was accidental. I explained to you.»
«I'll go,» said Christian, «but let me just make a little speech before I do. Gee, I'm sorry about all this. But honestly, Brad, you're living in a dream world. I was very emotionally disturbed when I got back here and I came straight to you. Some men would have been flattered. I may be over fifty but I'm not a has-been. I got three proposals of marriage on the boat, and all from people who didn't know I was rich. Anyway what's wrong with being rich? It's a quality, it's attractive. Rich people are nicer, they're less nervy. I'm quite a proposition. And I came to you. As it happened I met Arnold and we talked and he asked a lot of questions, he was interested. That makes people friends and we are friends. But we haven't started up a love affair. Why should we? We're too intelligent. I'm not a little girl in a mini-skirt looking for kicks. I'm a damned clever woman who wants to have fun for the rest of her life, real fun, and happiness, not just emotional messes. I guess I can see into my motivation by now. I was years in deep analysis back in Illinois. I want friendships with men. I want to help people. Do you know that helping people is the way to be happy? And I'm curious. I want to know lots of people and see what makes them tick. I'm not going to get stuck in any hole-and-corner dramas. I'm going to live in the open. And right out in the open is where Arnold and I have been. You just haven't understood. I want to be friends with you, Brad. I want us to redeem the past by our friendship, like sort of redemptive love-I groaned.
«Don't mock me, I'm trying, I know I may seem ridiculous-«Not in the least,» I said.
«Well why not, naturally he was interested, and I was truthful. It's not a sacred subject, why shouldn't I talk about it. I guess you and I ought to try to be honest with each other and talk it all out of our systems. I know it would do me a power of good. Say, have you ever been analysed?»
«Analysed'-'– Certainly not!!»
«Well, don't be too sure it would be a waste of time. You seem pretty snarled up to me.»
«Ask your friend to go, would you?» I said to Arnold. He smiled.
«I'm going, I'm going, Brad. Look, don't answer me now, but think about this. I do beg you most humbly, and I mean humbly, to talk to me sometime soon, to talk properly, talk about the past, talk about what went wrong, and do it not because it will help you but because it will help me. That's all. Think it over. See you.»
She made for the door. I said, «Wait a minute. To someone who has spent years in deep analysis this may seem crude, but I simply do not like you and I do not want to see you.»
«I know you're sort of scared-«I am not scared. I just happen to detest you. You are the sort of insinuating power-mongering woman that I detest. I cannot forgive you and I do not want to see you.»