Chapter Thirty-Two - Come to
Bed
I am still working three days
a week on the building site, working long hours till I can
hardly see what I am doing. I get so tired I begin to
stumble as I walk, and keep dropping things I am holding. I
feel sick with weakness, and start shaking. The only thing
that keeps me going is the fact that I have almost finished.Back at home Annabel
is getting supper for the children, and getting them packed
off to bed.Next
door Cindy has left home about four o'clock and is driving
up to London for a couple of days.Terry is still
teaching until seven o'clock.I am stumbling
around like a zombie out of essential juice.Annabel is excited.
Her eyes are sparkling, and she is confident. In fact she is
cock-sure of herself. A new world is opening for her.Cindy is doing just
what she did every thursday afternoon; going in to London to
buy and sell jewellery.Terry is expecting
to come home and have a quiet evening marking homework.I finally hit the
sack and crash out, totally exhausted.Annabel changes,
reads the kids a story, and talks for a while with Cephren,
answering his questions about such interesting subjects as
"what is water made of?", and "why is it wet?". Then she
turns off Mini's light, and looks out of the bathroom
window. The woods at the back of the house are in total
darkness. There isn't a light to be seen anywhere.Terry doesn't hurry
home; why should he? He packs up, chats for a while in the
staff room, and then eventually gets in his car and drives
back.Annabel clears up in
the kitchen, and peers through the curtains, but the
woodland is still in total darkness. She goes upstairs and
looks at her pictures, sucks a pencil, and purses her lips,
furrows her brow, and starts thinking, ostensibly about her
next picture, but in reality her thoughts drift off totally
at random. She puts the picture down, and looks round the
room, then looks out of the back window. The garden is still
dark, so she starts tidying her painting room as well. It is
time something was done with it. There are boxes, frames,
stones, bits of wire, and heaven knows what all over the
place. The whole room is like the inside of a schoolboy's
pocket. But as she picks up things she is beset by the
urgent question of where to put them down. In the end,
exasperated, she puts everything back where it was, and goes
into the bathroom to look out of the window.Terry arrives home,
wanders around a while, sorts out his books, and looks to
see what Cindy has left him in the oven, then goes upstairs.Annabel is looking
out of the bathroom window. She notices the light and
smiles. "About time too," she mutters. She has a quick look
in the kids' rooms to see all is well, goes downstairs,
slips on her coat, and walks up the hill."I didn't expect to
see you." Terry's eyes light up. "Come in. Do you want a
drink?" Annabel comes in, sits down on the window seat,
accepts a drink of sherry, while Terry pushes his marking to
the end of the table, and gets his dinner out of the oven.
"Have you eaten?""Yes, I had supper
with the kids.""You don't mind if I
eat mine?"She is happy just
sitting there. It is so peaceful. There are no violent auras
flying about. No-one is battering at her brain, or impinging
upon her thoughts. No demands are being made either
consciously or unconsciously.She sips her sherry
and watches with a certain amount of amusement as Terry eats
his dinner.Terry is pleased. How nice to have the lovely Annabel around. He can expand a little, especially as Edwin isn't there, and he can flirt. He is chattering away. In fact he is talking a lot, but this is a blind.
They go into the
sitting room. The evening wears on. Annabel is playing a
simple, straightforward part. She is the princess in the
story. She knows exactly what she is doing. She fancies the
hero, and as far as she is concerned the male sitting over
there is the hero; at least he is for the moment.They talk, they do
the crossword, but those little leads, tossed out so
absent-mindedly dont produce the required punch-lines.
Annabel is getting tired of fencing around. She decides to
push the issue, and goes upstairs.She gets into bed.
After all, why not?Terry turns to the
marking, and opens a book. He starts correcting. His head is
full of latin and greek, and odalisques twirling around with
very little on. He marks the first set of creaky sentences,
and puts the book to one side. He takes up the second.Upstairs Annabel is
waiting.Downstairs Terry is
marking books. He is deliberately indulging in displacement
activities. The books are an excuse not to go upstairs. The
books are an alibi. He is ticking, crossing out, and writing
explanations. Is he afraid to go upstairs? He moves on to
another book. He is trying not to think of a naked girl in
his bed.Meanwhile, upstairs
Annabel is still waiting.The night outside is
just as dark. Inside are the questions. Is he going to do
it? Or is he going to keep that self control going? Is he
going to be like Edwin? Will it all be different?The clocks ticks
methodically on the window-ledge.Upstairs Annabel has
gone to sleep.It is four in the
morning. Annabel has just woken up. She leans over, switches
on the light, and looks at the clock. The house is silent.Downstairs Terry is
staring into the fire. He has finished his marking and he is
dreaming.Annabel gets out of bed and goes downstairs. Terry is sitting on the sofa. She goes up to him, puts her arms around him. "Aren't you tired? What's the matter?"
He gives her a
little kiss. "I was thinking.""Come to bed." She
kisses him back. * * * * *
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