Chapter Thirty-Six -
Two-Four Tango
Annabel has a mischievous
look in her eye. There is something about the way she walks,
and the way she has this almost self-conscious party smile
on her face. "Johnsie," she cooes."Yes," I say with an
over dramatic sigh of resignation. I know exactly what she
is going to say."You do like Cindy,
don’t you?""Yes, I like Cindy.
I mean, she's alright.""Not more than
alright?""Not really, why?""Oh." She looks
disappointed."What on earth are
you talking about? Whyever should you think I more than like
her? Do you want me to conveniently run off with her while
you run off with Terry.""Hmm. Not exactly.""Annabel, what is
all this nonsense?" She is looking at the floor. I stare
straight into her face. She purses her lips. I tilt her
cheek towards me and we look at each other, then both smile.
"Annabel, you are a pest. I really ought to put you over my
knee and give you a good hiding.""I cant help it, I
fancy him.""And it would be all
so much easier if I fancied Cindy?"She smiles back at
me. She looks rather small and seductive. Anyone would think
she was trying to seduce me, but then, in a way, I suppose
she is with her small face emerging from the hood of her
hair, rather like a bas-relief madonna, with that aquiline
face slightly tilted. Annabel is a newly emerging seductive
girl. She is the white virginal nymph again. She exudes a
totally untouched, pristine freshness and wonder, a softness
and delicacy of the skin, and the facial expression, that
apparent tension between the tautness beneath and the
softness overlaying it."Well, what's the
plan?"She suddenly becomes
very practical. "Well, if you go up and see Cindy, then
Terry can come down here and see me.""Ye gods! So we're
playing at wife swapping are we?""But she isn't going
out this week.""And the alternative
I suppose is to meet him in the car somewhere and have a
screw on the back seat like the old days.""Oh Johnsie," she
wails in obvious dismay, and takes a couple of steps back."It doesn't sound
very idyllic and romantic put like that, does it? But that's
what you want don’t you? A lay in the back seat?""But it's not like
that at all.""Bollocks! What do
you mean, it's not like that? Of course it's like that. You
want to be with him, and you want to go to bed with him, so
why beat about the bush and cloud it all over with a lot of
associative romantic hooh-hah?""
It's not like that.
You don’t understand." She turns away and walks across to
the sink, fiddles with some forks, and picks up a plate,
then puts it down again. "I like being with him because he
isn't you. I get peace and contentment with him. The whole
point of going up there is...." She waves her arms about,
and walks down the length of the kitchen. "It's... oh how
can I explain? It's…""What you are trying
to say is that the whole object of the exercise is for you
to escape from your humdrum married existence with your
boring man, whom you've got used to now, and who is no
longer exciting, so you can run to this new man who is
exciting because he's new. Behold the Annabel has found a
nice new toy and she wants to whiz off and play with it.
But…""Rot! It's not like
that at all. You're just being pompous. You don’t understand
women at all, you never have.""But, ignoring this
irrelevant outburst, you want to play with your new toy in
congenial surroundings. The whole point of the exercise is
the feeling, the mood. The escapism isn't right unless the
lights are down low, and… oh yes, what records do you want
me to put out for you?""You really are a
pig! I don’t know why I ever married you. You're a pompous,
stuck up, preposterous prick.""And the sooner you
get it together with Terry the better. Is that it?""Huh. It would
probably be a very good idea.""Yes, and he's been
to one of those schools you cant stand, and is probably as
fucked up inside as you claim Edwin is, and…""And he doesn't
always take the mickey out of me like you do, and he isn't
always being a pompous ass.""Because he hasn't
known you long enough to feel he can treat you the way he
treats Cindy.""He treats her that
way because she treats him abominably. You know jolly well
what a neurotic bitch she is.""And they therefore
live happily ever after, and when you two move in together
you will no doubt gradually begin to live happily ever after
as well, getting into the same destructive pattern.""Everybody isn't
like you, you know.""Not at all. They
are like Terry and Cindy. We've heard them, haven't we? You
can hear them from here right into town some days. No doubt
on the days they are just average people not being
destructive but living happily-ever-after, nice, normal
lives.""I think you're just
trying to put me off wanting to be with Terry. Well, you're
not succeeding.""No darling.""I fully intend
seeing him this week. Where, I don’t know, or when, but you
are not going to stop me.""No darling.""And it wont be for
a fuck in the back of the car.""No darling.""And stop being
irritating saying that.""Of course darling.
So you don’t want the estate car cleaned out?" She turns and
throws a plate at me, which I duck. It bounces off the end
of the table, hits the floor, bounces again, and comes to
rest up against the curtain. I turn to watch with a certain
amusement.""Blast the bloody
plate!""It obviously
doesn't agree with you. I must admit that must be a record.
I've seen plates bounce before, but never twice in one
throw.""I'll hit you over
the head with the next one.""What a charming
wifely attitude. Next you'll have us sounding like Terry and
Cindy when they are in full fling.""So you're not going
up to see her then?""When?""Tonight.""You don’t give me
much warning do you?""I thought if you
had time to think about it you'd probably say no, whereas
you'd probably go on the spur of the moment.""Oh I see, this is
what you do sitting up in your painting room? Instead of
painting those lovely pictures, you're busy working out
battle plans.""Well?""Don’t bloody well
stand there staring at me saying 'well?'""Oh Johnsie." She
stamps her foot. "Will you stop being silly.""What do you mean?"
I say, aghast. "Me being silly? You are calmly saying 'go
and fuck the girl next door so I can fuck the boy next
door,' and when I raise objections you say I'm being silly.""Oh don’t let's go
through it all over again.""Where's the Radio
Times?""What do you want
the Radio Times for?""To see what's on
the telly.""But we don’t have a
telly.""How terribly
perceptive of you darling. But they do next door, don’t
they?"She suddenly smiles.
"So you are going to go and see Cindy. …I…I mean the telly?""It depends what's
on."She sighs and turns
to fill up the kettle while I flick through the pages."What day is today?""Oh, I don’t know.
Wednesday.""What time is this
meeting? I've no doubt it is all arranged already.""He's coming
straight down here from work at seven o'clock.""So he'll be here
about half past seven?""Yes.""Now, wait a minute.
If this thing is all organised down to the last detail, and
it looks as though it is, where is he having his dinner?
Where am I having my dinner? And has Cindy said yes to all
this paraphernalia?""I thought you could
tell her when you go up there.""Oh, I see, make me
the bearer of the glad tidings eh? 'Oh, what-ho Cindy! Just
thought I'd pop in to tell you your husband is at this very
moment having it off with my wife. Oh yes, and how about
getting your knickers off, and you can get your own back
with me on the living room carpet. Oh, and by the way, I'm
having his dinner, and he's eating mine. That seems to be
about fair don’t you think? Come on, hurry up, get 'em off,
we've got to hurry; got to keep to the schedule. We should
work it so we both pass in the night at the same time… Oh my
god!" I sit down, and put my head in my hands."Now what?""Annabel. Look. Oh
hell.""What's the matter?""There is one
terrible snag in your blasted plan.""What do you mean?"
She looks up at me, really worried."Look, you oaf. You
are down here with him. I'm up there with her, right?""Yes.""Sooner or later we
have to swap back again. I assume you were intending to
re-swap. I mean, you weren't expecting to leave me holding
the Cindy were you?""No, of course not.
I wouldn't want to be that mean.""Bitch." (She
smiles.) "So at some point we have to do a change-over,
right?""Yes.""Now, be a sensible
girl. I don’t want to wrap up the Cindy and come down here,
and stride into my front room to find you bent over the sofa
with your knickers round your ankles, and Terry without his
trousers."Ummm." She sits
down at the table, looking thoughtful. "Well, suppose we say
you come back at nine o'clock, or half past nine?""That's long enough
for you?"She looks up sharply
to see whether this is a straight question or a mockery, but
my expression is sincere. "Half past nine then."I sigh. "I guess we
had better synchronise watches. My god, what a palaver. I
had no idea suburban immorality had to be carried on like a
bloody war operation.""The clock on the
cooker is right.""Okay.""Now, when are you
going?""Oh yes, I suppose
you want to get ready." I pick up the Radio Times. "Ah, a
band I like is on at quarter past seven. I'll go up and
watch them. What time is it now?""It is sixteen
minutes past seven," she says resignedly."Wow. Then I'd
better get a move on." I drop the magazine, and shoot to the
door, turn, shoot back, hug Annabel, give her a peck on the
mouth, grin, and rush back out through the door and
run up the hill, burst in through Cindy's front door, and
sit down in front of the telly. "Can I watch tv?""Of course, which
channel?""Oh I don’t know." I
fiddle with the switches. There is a boring man talking
boringly on one channel. There is a boring man talking on
another channel, and there are people doing sport on another
channel. I flick back through all of them again, then switch
off, looking puzzled. "That's odd.""What time was it
on?""Quarter past
seven.""Well, it's gone
that. Are you sure your program was today?""Yes. What is
today?""Thursday.""Thursday? Oh.""Have you got the
wrong day?""They were on
yesterday, so I am a bit late." I lay back on the sofa.
Never mind, the mistake has got me out of the house and up
to Cindy's. I would have had to do it at a run in any case,
and I have at least arrived.She comes and sits
on the carpet in front of the fire, her legs drawn up under
her bottom, and I sit on the sofa. She is staring hard at
the carpet, and picking bits of fluff from the pattern, and
brushing the nap with her hand.I stare at her. This
is a ridiculous predicament."This whole
situation is a bit beyond me. It all seems so silly," she
says. "What do we do?"I smile at her. "What do we do? What do we ever do? We put up with the world as she is, and try and get the best out of a lousy deal."
She is looking very
melodramatic. She speaks with a low voice, quivering with
emotion. She is close to tears. Her whole life is under
threat. She could swear and abuse Terry. That would probably
increase his desire to leave her, or at least to go to bed
with other girls on the side. She could cajole him, and try
to be surreptitiously forceful under the guise of being
sweet and seductive, or she could pretend to total
indifference in the hope that would sting him into returning
to the fold.What could I say?
She is muttering on in a low depressed tone, pouring out all
her woes. There is nothing I can say. Everything I could
have said would have been mere words. Maybe they would have
been nice words, soothing words, but ultimately you cant rub
a word in a wound. No words under the sun can ever make the
pain go away. Words appeal to the intellect. Her intellect
could cope with the situation but her emotions couldn't, and
words don’t get down to the emotions, not when it really
hurts.I look at her
hugging her knees and rocking slightly, and think how much
she looks like Ann. Physically the two girls are totally
unalike, but there is a strong similarity in the way they
sit on carpets, rocking gently. There is the similar slope
of the back, the huddled pose, the rocking motion, holding
the legs, the sad face, the tumble of hair past a white
cheek.I slide down onto
the floor beside her, and give her a hug, and kiss the white
cheek, She just sits there rocking to and fro, very slowly."I'm sorry there's
nothing I can do. I can hug you, and try to love you a
little. I can try to reassure you, but that's all. You know
I don’t desperately need you. I guess I don’t need you at
all, and that's what hurts you. You want to know someone
needs you. What's really getting to you is that Terry is
showing quite blatantly that he doesn't need you. That
leaves you nowhere. It leaves you right back on yourself.""I know, that's what
frightens me."All I can do to a
frightened girl is to hug her and beg her not to be afraid
of the dark.""I know.""And I can tell you
stories to take your mind off things."There is a long
silence. What on earth am I going to do? There is no way we
can sit like this all evening. Something has to be done to
jolt her a little.She is still staring
into the carpet. I tilt her face and look into her very sad
eyes, smile briefly, and kiss her. She continues tugging at
fluff on the carpet. I push her firmly onto her back,. She
complains, and drags her legs from under her, and starts
massaging a leg. "I'll do that. You lie back and think how
ghastly the world is."She smiles weakly as
I start stroking her.After about ten
minutes she gets up. "I think we ought to go upstairs." And
she turns to the stairs. I give her a couple of minutes
start and follow her.* * * * *
Meanwhile, down the
hill Annabel is sitting in the kitchen with Terry. He seems
happy and content. She is rather nervous and cramped.
Nothing is quite the same in the room with two children in
bed upstairs. Everything seems somehow awkward, clumsy and
silly, and out of context. There isn't any escape. She is
surrounded by all the usual family things. She lies back on
the chaise-longue and there is a tawdry attempt, a clumsy
fumble. She is half sitting, half lying, and her knickers
are on the floor, and her skirt is rucked up. She feels as
if she is lying on an operating table, or that scene in The
Waste Land in the bottom of a boat, and she wants it
all to finish.Some of my writings
are on the table. My scarf is dangling over a chair, and she
can feel the remnants of me still vibrating about the room.
She can hear movements upstairs. Cephren is out of bed, and
a couple of boards on the landing creak. What is he doing?
Is he looking through the banisters? Suddenly the whole
thing sickens her, and she makes a move to get up.Terry pulls up his
trousers. The whole situation is so undignified, so silly.
It is like something in a comedy play, only nothing about
the situation is at all funny. Annabel wants to go upstairs
and have a little cry. She wants to tell Terry to clear off
out of it. Suddenly she has an awful thought. She is sitting
there wanting her husband to come back and take his writing
materials away, and his scarf, and all those vibrations from
the room. She wants the kids to go in and stay the night
with grandma. She wants to be somewhere else, anywhere else
but in this cramped room full of constricting vibrations.If only Terry looked
less ridiculous. He didn't have to look like some fine
romantic prince, but at least he didn't have to look…..Her thoughts trailed
off. She got up and made some coffee and they sat at the
table and talked, and she kept looking at the clock as the
hands slowly crept round to half past nine.* * * * *
Meanwhile up the
hill Cindy is staring intently into my face. I am lying on
my back and she is above me, propped on an elbow. I look
into her anxious face. What on earth is she looking at, or
looking for? I try and read what is there, but she is
desperately trying to read what is in my face. I look away
and shut my eyes for a little while, maybe ten seconds, then
re-open them. She is still staring down at me. I reach up
and curl the ends of her hair, watching my fingers twist.Cindy is trying to
seek me out. She wants to read intentions in my face. She
wants to categorise me as friend or foe, dependable or
dependent. And however hard she looks, all she can see is a
face. She cannot see beyond my face and into the me inside.
She hasn't a clue. She can read nothing of what I really am,
or of how I feel, or about what I am likely to do next, and
in the end she simply has to give up the struggle.At half past nine I
kiss her goodnight and walk down the garden path and into
the road. I start down the hill, and then suddenly have a
terrible thought. Fool that I am I should have climbed over
the perimeter wall and gone down to the house through the
wood. That way I would have missed Terry. I am just about to
do a quick about-turn and sprint back up to the field gate
where I can get over, when I see a figure in front of me in
the dark.Terry and I pass
each other dutifully on opposite sides of the road. We each
bid the other a polite 'Good evening', and go our ways in
opposite directions. I feel like giggling. The whole thing
is so much like something out of a bad play.Sitting at the
kitchen table again I look up at Annabel. "Have a good time
then?" I ask.She scowls, and goes
on washing up the coffee things."I didn't either.""I thought you
wanted to go to bed with Cindy.""Not really.""Did you?""Ought you to be
asking me that question?"She shrugs."And did you go to
bed with Terry?"There is a very long
silence. * * * * *
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