The Chalk Giants (7 page)

He used to say he knew women: I expect he did. He certainly got what he wanted out of me. But talk about fast, that first time we hadn’t been in the car five minutes...

He made me really mad once. Asked me if I’d got any things with me. Straight out, just like that. He said that was the only way it was worth doing. I said what did he think I was, I mean you don’t just carry things like that about in your handbag, it’s like walking about with a loaded gun. I said it might be all right for Americans, but it wasn’t all right for me. Anyway after that he’d always got them with him. Don’t know where he got them from. Can’t see him walking into a chemist’s for them. I suppose he did.

I only went with him because - well, I suppose I wanted to prove I was ... normal and all that, I wasn’t what she thought. But afterwards, her face that night. I didn’t think she’d take it like that. She said she’d got a bug but it wasn’t that, she’d been crying. I didn’t want to hurt her, not like that, I ... well, I suppose I loved her. In a way. But I’d got myself in so deep . . .

I wouldn’t have gone down there. To that place. And with
him,
of all people. But Maggie wanted to, and she was coming anyway. She said ... oh, thousands of things. It all made sense at the time. Or seemed to. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I was so scared, I’d been scared for days. I thought I’d be safe with her.

And then Martin being there, I never thought... I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, I didn’t want to see him again. I couldn’t think. And the very first night, he said something ... well, foul about her. I was that mad, I kept trying to get up but he was holding me, the madder I got the more he laughed. He thought it was all funny, the war, me, everything. Then those shots, I know they were shots. They were sort of loud and yet distant, you heard them echo round all the cliffs. I thought he was going to come staggering back all pouring with blood or something, I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t stand any of it any more. I just ... well, started walking. I didn’t know where I was going, I couldn’t think. Then she came after me and made me wait, she said at least I had to have a coat. She said she’d come with me, if I’d . . trust her. I started getting uptight again, I thought she hated me somehow because of Martin. But I... wanted to be with her, I wanted her to come, I didn’t feel scared any more. Not till the bombs...

I couldn’t stop shaking, afterwards. But she was terrific. She told me... where she thought we ought to go, and that we’d be all right. Then she took my hand. It seemed ... well, quite all right, I just felt about six. I kept thinking about the bombs, and how the sea all lit up. It sounded as if the country was breaking in halves.

She said there’d be ... people at the house. But there weren’t. We walked all round it, in the fog. It was huge, great round white towers at either end and all the lines of windows ... Then she said we’d have to get in because I was cold, she was going to get me warm. She’d found this big iron bar, she started in on a set of shutters over a window, when she got them open we had to break the glass. I got scared again. I mean, you can’t just go round doing things like that. I kept thinking somebody would come, we’d both get put in jail. She said there was nobody there, at least we’d have heard a dog. But it all stayed quiet.

She got the window up finally and got inside and pulled me up after her. Then... it’s ridiculous, but we both started laughing. Because you see we were standing in this huge lavatory. I mean a huge lavatory, it was a great high room about forty feet long with a huge wooden door and this one little pedestal set in the middle of the wall. The pipe went up about a mile, all covered with felt and lagging; then she said something about cavaliers sitting there practising their target shooting and I started falling about, I didn’t think I was ever going to stop. Then suddenly it wasn’t funny any more because we were standing in this great empty house and you could hear the silence, sort of pressing down. Anyway she took my hand again and opened the door and we started exploring, through all the rooms. She was terrific. She must have been scared as well, but she didn’t show it. She’d got the iron bar, she kept saying, ‘It’s all right, there’s nobody here. You can see there’s nobody here.’ It was a lovely house too, all the rooms high and white and full of marvellous furniture.

There was one thing I didn’t like. In one of the big round rooms, the tower rooms, there was a case of dolls. Wax dolls, I’d never seen any before. Not close up anyway. Most of them were children but there was one of an old woman dressed in black. Least I think it was an old woman, it was very old, the face was all yellow and cracked. It was holding its arms out to the windows and the silvery fog, all you could see was the fog and just the grass for a yard or two round the house. I know I started shivering again, Maggie took me back through to a big kitchen. There was a larder there with shelves of stuff and a gas stove, when she turned the taps the rings lit. It only meant there was gas left in the pipes or they hadn’t turned the supply off yet but somehow it cheered me up. Then she turned the water on, that worked as well though there wasn’t any electricity. She said they must have forgotten about the gas but it didn’t matter anyway, there was an Aga in the corner, she’d get it going later on. We got a fire lit then she found a big box of candles, she said it was lucky there’d been so many strikes.

I felt better when I got warm. She made some soup, I didn’t think I’d want to eat because I’d been sick once on the way but when it was warming it smelled so good. Then we went upstairs again, she said she was going to fix a bedroom for me. I wanted to stop down in the kitchen but she said there was no reason I couldn’t sleep in a proper bed.

She chose a room at the end of a long corridor. It was on the other side of the house; but most of the bedrooms were stripped, this one had curtains you could draw. She lit another fire, it was so cold for August, and set the candles round. She even aired some sheets. She said I could have a bath in the morning, there’d be hot water when she’d fixed the Aga.

It was dark by the time we’d finished, I hadn’t realized it had got so late. I said wasn’t she going to stop but she said no, she’d go downstairs and watch. She’d found a shotgun, she said it was .the best thing we could have, better than a rifle, nobody would face a shotgun. She said the doors were all locked anyway, nothing could get in. She said I was a . . . big girl, and the bombs were finished, there wouldn’t be any more. She waited till I was in bed, then kissed me and said to get a good night’s rest. Then she went downstairs.

So much had happened, I was really tired. I lay and watched the candles for a time. It was all so cosy and snug, it was wonderful to be lying there, I thought we’d all be dead or something. I thought of her downstairs and wondered what she was doing, whether she was asleep or not. Then the wind started, you could hear it gusting round the house, I wondered if it would clear off all the fog. You could hear the sea too. The candle flames were moving, very slightly, in a draught.

She’d seen the house before, they used to open it sometimes. That was how she knew about the gap in the trees, and the smugglers. I was sorry she’d told me about that though I know she didn’t mean any harm, because the sea was the last thing I thought about before I slept.

I. had this dream. I don’t know where I was standing but I could see the notch in the trees and the sea beyond. The sea was vivid blue, I’d never seen such an intense blue. You could see some of the trees, the branches and trunks, it seemed it lit them up. As if it was luminous.

I stood there for a time just watching. Then I realized - I don’t know how I knew but I did - that there was a path up from the water, up the other side of the hill, and somebody was climbing it. I got frightened. I don’t know why but I knew I didn’t want to see him, I
mustn’t
see him. I started trying to run but I couldn’t move fast enough, my legs wouldn’t work. I was looking back, I saw him come scrambling through the gap. Then he was close. His face was all eaten away, eaten flat, you could see all the holes in it, the tubes and veins, some were opening and closing as he breathed. I knew it was me he wanted, he was angry with me because I’d got him killed. I sat up in bed, I was screaming. Then there was this terrible knocking and banging, it sounded at the door. I knew he was in the house. Then I heard Maggie calling, I had to get to her and warn her, tell her he was here. I was wrenching at the door but it was locked somehow or jammed, it wouldn’t open. Then I didn’t know where I was, I thought he was in the room with me after all, I couldn’t get away.

I don’t know what happened, after that. I think she slapped me, I can’t remember. She made me come back in, she’d got the gun, she went all round the room but there was nothing there. She opened the curtains, the fog was still thick outside. She said the other thing was nothing, she’d heard it before though never close like that. She said it was to do with the bombs, that it was a meteorological thing, like thunder, something called Barrisal Guns. I don’t know why but that frightened me again. I knew by then I’d had a dream, but I wouldn’t let her go. She said it was all right, she wouldn’t leave me any more. She closed the bolts on the door and sat a long time, on the bed, She was still holding the gun.

Warm, and safe . . .

It was as if there was a part of my mind that just stopped working. A part was saying ‘right’, and ‘wrong’, but. I couldn’t understand any more. I couldn’t understand what it was saying, what the words meant. Then it was as if Martin was loving me, and I was loving him back; but better than it had been, better than it had ever been before. Then it seemed - she’d changed, or I’d changed, I could kiss her on the mouth, all the dreams were happening. Then things started spinning, inside my head; Dancing Ledge and the pool, the bungalow, boats on the sea, the pub, the hot white rocks in the sun. Then it was as if I was at the cricket match again and something terrific had happened and Ray was laughing and all the people I knew; Penny and John and Andrew and Richard and old Ted. And I was pushing close, I couldn’t get close enough, I wanted to do everything with her, climb the castle and walk, and run and swim and drive; everything, all at once. And never be frightened again.

I thought the morning after was going to be terrible. It wasn’t though. She was downstairs, doing breakfast. She’d found a tin of sausages and there were hens out in the yard, she’d been out and found some eggs. I just walked up to her and kissed her. It didn’t feel strange at all.

She went over to the sink and started scraping some plates. When she turned back, she’d been crying. But she didn’t talk about it. Neither of us talked about it, not for the rest of the day.

The mist didn’t go. I thought it would be here for ever.

When the wood ran short we gathered driftwood again from the bay. There was enough of it. I didn’t think about Martin. Not any more. Later on we walked up the hill to the village. There was a post office, it had been a general shop as well. I think we’d got quite used to breaking in.

We brought so much back it took us all our time to carry it. Getting back to the house was nearly like coming home.

I should have loved to live in a place like that. I don’t know how old it was. Eighteenth century, I suppose. I could see Maggie as an eighteenth century lady. You know, making up and putting those sexy patches on they used to wear. Another time I thought we should have been fishergirls. All poor and ragged. I think between us we lived through all the ages.

There were cows in one of the fields behind the house. One morning they were all bellowing, I thought they were ill but she said they wanted milking. I don’t know whether she’d done it before but she was very good. She said it must be rotten for them. Like wanting to spend about six pennies at once.

We had so much milk we didn’t know what to do with it. We boiled it all at first because of TB. Later we just stopped bothering.

Then she showed me how to use the guns. They’re easy, you just open the little latch and put the shells in and they’re ready. And you’ve always got another shot if the first one misses. She made me promise never to carry one closed. She showed me what might happen if I did. There was a dead hare in the field, she fired at it and it was horrible. There was nothing left...

There’s a little concrete pillbox in the bay, I think it was left over from the war. We made love inside it once. Nearby there was a stack of lobster pots, we found a boat pulled up and got it down to the sea and sank them out in the bay. We didn’t catch anything for a week but she said to keep on trying, we just hadn’t found the proper place.

I remember the first one we caught. He was huge; and they’re so dark here, because of the black-coloured rocks. I didn’t want to kill him, I don’t think she did either. But she said it was him or us, and anyway it was no different from eating meat.

He was so beautiful, when he was cooked. I couldn’t believe it. And there were lettuces in the kitchen garden, enough for a salad. She made a wonderful sauce, out of ketchup and thick cream, and fed me the claw meat, put it in my mouth. I think that was the sexiest meal I ever had.

Only one bad thing happened. I saw that Stan Potts man again, one day.

I couldn’t believe it. I was going down to the beach, I wasn’t taking much care. And there he stood, in the mist, in this horrible old macintosh. He was staring up, toward the house, I thought he’d seen me or heard the noise I made. But I don’t think he had.

I sort of skulked back, behind a rock. I closed the gun, as quietly as I could. I thought, ‘If he starts to climb. If he starts to come up ...’ I knew what would happen if I fired it but I think I’d still have shot him. I think I’d turned into a sort of little animal. What we had was so good, nobody was going to take it away.

Anyway he didn’t come up. Just stood there looking miserable, as if he’d lost something, he was looking for it. Finally he walked away.

I followed him for a bit. In the mist. He kept going, round the bay. I left off when he got near the western cliff. I suppose he was going back to the farmhouse. I hadn’t thought, about him still being there.