To the Dark Tower (28 page)

After the party Judith and Mabel began to clear up."Leave the messes to me," said Mabel."I’m used to them." Judith emptied ash-trays. Round Mabel’s arm was tied someone else’s handkerchief, soggy with blood. It slipped, and she asked Judith to tighten it."I’d like to know the bloody bastard who did that. Christ! that was a bloody thing to do." She finished what was left in the bottom of a tumbler with a wry face.

Then, when everything was tidy once more, they both sat down on the divan bed and drank tea.

‘‘Tell me, honey," Mabel said."You and that lieutenant seem pretty mad about each other."

‘‘Yes, we are."

‘‘Going to get married?"

‘‘I don’t know." And because it was late, and two o’clock is the hour for confidences, she told Mabel about her father and all her difficulties.

At the end Mabel said:"You must elope! You must get married secretly! It’s the only thing."

‘‘Oh, no," Judith protested.

But Mabel usually had her way.

The next morning there was a telegram for Frank Cauldwell. It was brought into him as he was hearing his two charges recite
mensa
in the schoolroom. He read:"Am marrying Judith Weigh to-morrow. Can you be witness. Eric."

‘‘Any answer?" queried the maid.

‘‘I’ll telephone one later."

All through the lesson his mind was absorbed with plans—the journey, where he was to stay, permission from Mrs. Maccabae. He thought, also, in incredulity, of those far-away days at Dartmouth, when Eric and Judith bathed together and he and the General talked. And now they were to be married." The accusative of
aquila
?" he said to one of his charges.

‘‘
Aquilam
," came the grave reply." You’ve asked that one already."

‘‘Have I? I must be dreaming." He spoke crossly.

As soon as his watch showed eleven o’clock he left them to find Mrs. Maccabae. She sat in the garden, sipping coffee, among copies of
Vogue
and
The Lady
. When she heard his footsteps behind her she said:"Is that you, Roe? Do go and tell Cook to hurry. Really, I can’t wait all day..."

‘‘It’s me.”

‘‘Oh." She swung petulantly in her chair."I’ve been trying to give my orders for hours. But Cook simply—"

He cut in to tell her what he had come for."You see, he’s a great friend," he explained."We were brought up together. I should like so much to be present at his wedding."

‘‘But it’s such short notice," she grumbled."And it’s only a week since your last holiday. You must realise, Frank—"

They bickered aimlessly for many minutes, until at last she gave in to him."Oh, very well, then. But you must get back to-morrow night. And I won’t be able to send the car to the station. You’ll have to walk. It’s too much to ask Perkins—"

‘‘I’ll walk," he interjected." You needn’t bother."

‘‘It’s so inconvenient!" she sighed."But still—! There it is. If you must go, you must go. I’m only afraid that my two babies are getting no education at all." She knew that he was set on going; it wouldn’t do to lose him; but she wanted him to feel as uncomfortable as possible.

‘‘Thank you," he said grudgingly at the end of their interview.

‘‘That’s all right. Just ferret Cook out of the kitchen, will you?" She took pleasure in sending him on the errand.

At lunch that day Mr. Maccabae suddenly looked up halfway

through the meal and said:"Good heavens! Where’s Frank?" He

was not observant.
Mrs. Maccabae explained."It’s too bad," she said at the end.

‘‘We’re far too kind, that’s the whole trouble. We just let people impose on us. They ride over us—rough-shod. Grab, grab, grab! Always out for what they can get! We
must
take a firm line."

It was raining, and he was late. They had arranged to meet at the Apple-tree Tea-rooms for a cup of coffee before going on to the registry office. Frank sat back in the taxi, while the window streamed with rain and about him a mushroom rash of umbrellas covered the pavement. Sometimes he glanced at his watch. He was incapable of being punctual. Partly, of course, it was due to selfishness: there was always the chance that the person one was meeting might also be late; and one hated waiting. Far better to arrive ten minutes after the time arranged.

The taxi suddenly swished to a standstill, a draught gathering about his legs. He got out and paid, and then for the first time noticed the three figures huddled pathetically together under a small, silk umbrella. They were in a tight bunch, a little circle, all facing inwards, while this ridiculous affair of red and white stripes hung above them.

‘‘I’m terribly sorry to be so late. Why on earth didn’t you go in?"

‘‘We couldn’t. It’s closed. There’s a notice here." Eric, dripping from nose, fingers, and ears, pointed to the white piece of cardboard in the window:"Closed for the week. Staff on holiday."

At that moment Judith exclaimed petulantly:"Oh, do let’s move on. The rain’s got into my shoes."

Mabel, the wise virgin, was unable to resist saying:"I warned you to bring an umbrella."

‘‘A lot of use it is, saying that now!"

‘‘Now, now, girls!" Eric was cheerfully stoical."What we all need is a cup of coffee."

‘‘Let’s get on then!" Judith moaned."Why are we standing here."

But the district was surprisingly poor in restaurants. At some they said,"Full up"; at others,"Luncheons only". Even Mabel began to flag."This is bloody awful," she said."Let’s give the whole thing up and go to the registry office."

‘‘But I
must
have something to drink. I
must
have something hot! I shall get the most awful chill." Clinging to Eric’s arm Judith squelched and whined.

At last a coffee-stall was found, with an awning under which sheltered far too many people. Mabel rubbed her hands and said,"This is cheery," and talked to the man in charge. The others drank in glum silence a liquid which tasted of chicory and methylated spirits.

‘‘You might have turned up on time," Judith suddenly said to Frank. But Eric intervened:"Oh, stow it! Oh, let’s forget about it!" Mabel began to whistle. Later, she bought some cakes and gave one to each of them. They were small and dry, with a chasm in the centre from which exuded a pus-like lemon-curd. The whole stall smelled of cat.

Mabel turned to Frank:"Have I met you before?"

‘‘No, I don’t think so. Introductions were somehow forgotten—"

‘‘That’s all right, son. I’m Mabel Ruster."

‘‘I’m Frank Cauldwell."

‘‘Right ho, Frank." She slapped him across the belly with the back of her hand.

Over her arm was a heart-shaped bag of red leather with the initials M. R. in one corner. Her lips and nails were conflicting shades of purple, her cheeks mauve. She wore her hair untidily in a bang over her eyes, and there was a circular hat at the back of her head. On her middle finger was an enormous ring, an intaglio in a gold setting.

During the ceremony she caught Frank’s eye and began to giggle; but Judith turned round and said"Sh!" with such emphasis that she stopped at once. At the end Eric kissed Judith; and Mabel said:"What about me?" “ May I?" Eric asked; and when Judith nodded, Mabel was kissed also."Mmm," she said."Oh, boy! That was a kiss." Judith and Eric walked out arm-in-arm.

In the street Mabel said:"Can you wait a minute? I must go and shed a tear for old England." She disappeared into a latrine from which she appeared with her lips several shades darker. They got into a Tube, and went to Piccadilly.

At the Chinese restaurant Frank ordered the dinner while Mabel talked, giggled, and knocked over a water carafe. Judith and Eric pressed hands under the table; and Eric, by mistake, rubbed his knee against Frank’s. Frank found this curiously stimulating.

Afterwards, Frank was somehow left with the bill while the others all contrived to be engrossed in conversation, and they made their way out into the watery sunshine.

‘‘Now what?" asked Mabel.

Judith said timidly:"Eric and I are going off now. Do you mind?"

‘‘Good Lord, no! Go off and enjoy yourselves!"

Eric and Judith looked at each other in tacit understanding: Mabel was quite unspeakable. Then they both said:" Good-bye, Mabel. Good-bye, Frank. It’s been so sweet of you. Thank you so much." Hand-in-hand they walked to Cambridge Circus and then up the Charing Cross Road. At a shop which advertised"Damarrhoids: The Great Rejuvenator" Eric bought a copy of
Ideal Marriage
. Then they both returned to Trafalgar Square and sat among the pigeons and read it.

Meanwhile, Frank, and Mabel watched a revival of
The Private Life of King Henry the Eighth
. Mabel had said," Oh, do buy me an orange drink." The drink was now finished but she still pulled at the straw, the suction making a gurgle against the tumbler.

It so happened that at one o’clock on the day of the wedding Shirley Forsdike was, as usual, walking from school to lunch at the Bristol Hotel. She passed the registry office, as she always passed it; and at the same time a car drew up and four people got out. She could not see their faces or she would have known that one of them was Judith, her old pupil and daughter of General Weigh. But being one of those people who always stay to see a wedding she thought: They’ll be out soon. I’m a bit early to-day—and took up her stand beside two other women who had appeared from nowhere."Bad luck to be married in rain," said one, whose straw hat was flagging visibly. She wore rubber goloshes which zipped up the front, and carried a shopping-basket. The other said:"Your hat, dear! I should get home before it’s ruined."" But I must see them come out. They’ll be out in a minute."

This estimate proved to be wrong. Ten minutes passed; and first one woman, and then the other, hurried away; until, at last even Shirley gave up and made for the Cromwell Road.

‘‘You’re late to-day," said one of the two old ladies, her friends.

‘‘Am I? Yes, I was kept."

It seemed silly to tell them about the wedding.

Lying on her stomach, Mabel read
Eyeless in Gaza
, and polished her nails on a well-worn buff. The telephone rang. It was green, and lay on the floor beside her."The colour is ten shillings extra," she told her visitors."But it’s rather, jolly, isn’t it? It just doesn’t match the green of the walls."

‘‘Hullo," she said, her mind still occupied with Huxley. Then she swung her legs off the bed and sat up with a jerk."Oh, it’s you, is it, General?"

‘‘Where’s Judith?"

‘‘Judith?"

‘‘She was meant to meet me here this morning. We were going to travel back together. Is she with you?"

Mabel’s face was expressive in the mirror opposite: she watched, herself eyes wide open, lips smiling." Oh, no. She left here the day before yesterday."

‘‘Day before yesterday!"

‘‘Do you mean she hasn’t told you yet?"

‘‘Told me? What
is
all this?" He began to bluster."What are you talking about?"

‘‘Her marriage."

There was a long silence, during which Mabel began to wonder whether he might not have rung off. Eventually she said:"Are you still there, General?"

‘‘Yes... It’s come as rather a shock... I’d no idea—"

‘‘She’s quite all right— and quite happy." Mabel, warmhearted creature, suddenly felt sorry for him. A moment ago she had been gleefully triumphant." I expect you’ll hear from her soon. She’s so incurably romantic—an elopement and all that... I suppose it
does
make it rather more exciting."

But this time he really had rung off. Poor dear, she thought. Poor, poor dear. Regretfully she replaced the receiver and took up her book.

In his first grief he had imagined that it would be intolerable to return home, alone. He viewed with horror the prospect of an empty house; the meals during which he would sit silent; climbing the stairs to bed without the friendly good-nights, the kiss, Judith’s arm round his waist. He would bathe alone, and eat alone, and go for walks alone. And there would be no early morning sounds of Judith grooming the dogs, Judith curled beside him, Judith asleep over a book. Judith was gone, and the loss seemed irrevocable. Lying on the beach he would think of her coarse, healthy hair between his fingers; and working he would think of her leaning over his shoulder with:"Fibsy, do leave all this nonsense! Do come out!" All the time in the train he brooded bleakly on the future: he couldn’t stand it.

But, of course, he did. In actual fact he almost preferred being alone. There was still his resentment, and his anger at being betrayed, and his wounded pride; but all this apart, and setting aside sudden pangs of love, sudden longings, he was perfectly happy. If he wanted company, there were plenty of friends in Dartmouth; and if he didn’t, at least he was rid of Judith’s pestering. She always wanted to help with his work; but this meant finger-marks on old books, and upsetting the inkpot, and facetious jokes. He was glad to be free of it.

And yet, and yet... He felt he ought to feel lonely; he felt he ought to be stricken with grief. Which probably explains why, at times, he was. There were nights when he could not sleep, and moments, in conversation with friends, at work, sailing, when suddenly there was this ache, this emptiness within, like a physical hunger; and he could do nothing, could say nothing until it passed.

One day he was shaving in the bathroom when Clark knocked.

‘‘Yes, Clark. What is it?"

‘‘It’s—Miss Judith, sir," Clark gulped."She’s just arrived."

The General had learnt that one should never betray oneself before one’s subordinates. He continued shaving."Tell her I shall be down in a minute."

‘‘Yes, sir."

As soon as Clark had closed the door he hurriedly splashed the soap off his face, snatched for a towel, and began to dry. But already someone was mounting the stairs.

‘‘Father?" She tried desperately to be matter-of-fact."Do you mind if I come in?"

Without answering he opened the door. Throwing her arms round his neck she kissed him, soapy and wet as he was. He still held the razor in his hand."Have you forgiven me, darling? You got my letter?"

Suddenly unable to contain himself he burst out:"You might have told me. It’s not as if I would have stopped you getting married."