Boys and Girls Come Out to Play (27 page)

“Put on your goddamed drawers,” said Divver.

Morgan did so. Wild horses won’t drag her name from me, he said to himself, squaring his bare shoulders.

“And take that damn fool, high-hat look off your stinking little pan,” said Divver, grinding his teeth ravenously.

He then turned to the manager, hoisting himself into a weaving equipoise. “I assume total responsibility for this incidence—particular occurrence,” he said with difficulty.

“I regret the affair more than can I express,” replied the manager calmly. “But I must repeat, Mr. Divver, that you cannot remain in this hotel.”

“I will also refund to the Hotel Poland any cost of smashed glasses, breakages….”

“This
second
incident,” replied the manager, running his eyes composedly over Morgan’s bareness, “must mean only that your accompanist will have to leave with you, sir. I must ask both you gentlemen to depart promptly.”

“Do nothing of the sort. The man was sheer Fascism. The quarrel arose when …”

“He is one of our oldest
habitues,
Mr. Divver. Twenty years of summer residency beneath the chimneys of the Hotel Poland. Now, he offers a broken nose.”

“Broken ha-ha!”

“No ha-ha, sir; a grave injury. However, sir, I have no more to say. One week, which you have paid, I am compelled, sadly, to extend you; a most adequate notice; to both you and your accomplice.”

The manager bowed and retreated into the passage. There was a tell-tale rustling as a little group of rubbernecks sped away. Divver slammed the door.

“So,” he said. He walked to the centre of the room and surveyed Morgan with rich contempt. “You heard?”

“Yes, Max.”

“Then don’t stand here. Get into your own room and start packing.”

“Now?”

“What do you mean,
now
?”

“Can’t I start in the morning?”

“Do you want to sleep in a Nazi hotel?”

“Of course not.”

“If you insist, O.K.”

“I don’t.”

“Where were you?”

“I went to see the fireworks.”

“What did they do? Burn you at the stake?”

Morgan thought he noticed a trace of curiosity, even of respect, in Divver’s voice, but it vanished promptly. “Get to
bed,” said Divver, furiously swinging open the adjoining door.

Morgan obeyed.

*

He slept as peacefully as a child, lying quietly on his back with his arms and ankles crossed in the manner of the Crusader who has seen Jerusalem. But as soon as he woke up in the morning he was overcome with excitement, and the principal events of the previous day raced through his mind, causing enthusiasm and fear. He made no recollection of Harriet’s dispassionate behaviour, his own blunders, their combined awkwardness, the unromantic consummation. He simply envisaged her with the bedside lamp shining on her face and breasts, and himself taking her in his arms. He recalled a few of the bold, amorous phrases he had whispered into her ear, and recreated for himself a faultless, thundering ride to victory. If I can get that far in just one day of independence, he thought proudly, what may I not achieve in a lifetime?

He heard the cathedral clock strike eight.

He thought of Divver’s raging, red face; and his pleasure turned into fear. I’m in for it he said to himself a few times, sighing. Out of the mixture of pride in his achievement and fear of the consequences came a third, surprising idea: Perhaps I should go back home now: and he pictured himself walking the floor of his mother’s house with an assurance that would puzzle the whole county.

A folded slip of white paper appeared under Divver’s door and edged its way into the room. He watched it without moving until he heard Divver leave his room and go off down the passage.

The note said: “Please have your things packed by evening. I shall be away all day.”

Thank God for that, he thought, and his fears changed into happy whistling.

Soon after, he heard a light knock, and another letter crept under the other door. It was from his mother. The American envelope had a hunted look on its face; it was stamped airmail and special delivery; it quivered with airplanes, bicycles, underscorings, frankings and capital letters.

“My dearest boy …”

That’s what you think, said Morgan.

“… What I must say will surely not please you, but it has got to be said, because it is my duty to say it. Your boat had scarcely left the dock when I realized that in letting you go I had committed an act of sheer madness. During the last few days this conviction has grown so firm that I simply must inform you of it.

“To put it briefly, Hitler may strike at any moment—
at
the
very
place
where
you
are.
Do I need to remind you of this, when you yourself must every moment of the day see evidence that you are a visitor to an armed fortress?

“I cannot understand how I let myself be persuaded to let you go. It was your pleading and persuasion that drew my consent, but the responsibility is wholly mine. I see now that I permitted you to go to Poland simply because it seemed the only way of keeping you close to me. Perhaps you don’t understand what I mean by that. I half hope you don’t understand, because I am ashamed. I took the easy way, and although I did it out of my love for you, I do not forgive myself.

“I want you to come home at the earliest possible moment. By earliest possible I do not mean at once. That would be too cruel to you, much as I would like it. But by the beginning of August should give you time enough to absorb something of a culture that I fear will soon cease to exist.

“I am not informing Max of my request to you. First, it
would be unfair to you, were I to employ him as a means. Second, he has his own work to do, and it would be unfair to distract him by imposing your and my problems upon him. He is a good and kind man, as well as serious, and you should learn much from his steadiness and broad experience.

“I cannot tell you how surprised people are to hear that you are in Poland. They look at me with such amazement, and I can guess their thoughts under the surface of their politeness. I am not referring to those who come to our Sunday luncheons, but to the steady, responsible people who live in this neighbourhood.

“You may be unsure how to go about obtaining passage home at the earliest date. If so,
do
not
hesitate
to
cable
me
immediately,
and I shall see that
all
is
arranged
from this end. I deeply hope I shall hear from you. I shall not worry you with questions as to the state of your health?

“My dear boy, you must try and believe that this letter is not just hysterical ravings. You know I would do nothing to hamper your happiness, save when it is essential. We will have much to talk about when you return, when it can be done calmly and easily. I beg you to come soon.

“I also hope from the bottom of my heart that so far you have had a
good
time,
and that it will continue to be
good
in
every
way
until I see you again.

“Little Peggy has left me suddenly, to live in New York, with no explanation given. Poor Mr. Petty seems very woebegone: I think there must have been something between those two that we never suspected.

“Your grandfather, Rosa, and all the household send their love, and one and all look eagerly to your return. Do come soon, dear boy. You are in danger, and your absence makes me feel like a murderer.”

He held the letter in his hand for some moments, his face grave, his eyes puzzled but rather vacant. Then he scrunched
it into a ball and threw it away. A stubborn look came into his face. He began to dress, feeling angry with himself for having so much as toyed with the idea of returning home.

Suddenly a new idea struck him; he crossed over to the window and finished his dressing looking out into the square with the utmost watchfulness. The square was empty, except for a black sedan, drawn up at the foot of the Poland’s marble steps. As the clock struck nine, he saw what he had hoped to see: the foreshortened figure of Harriet’s husband, dressed in the same worksuit, appeared and paused on the top steps. Another figure stepped out of the sedan, came half-way up the steps and greeted the engineer with a little bow. Then they descended together, entered the car and drove off toward the mines.

His heart beating fast, Morgan ran from his room, down the passage, through the baize door. He tapped on the drawing-room door of the Archduke Suite, and when no answer came, he went on to the bedroom entrance, and tapped there.

He heard her call: “Who’s there?”, in a high, surprised voice.

“Me.”

“What?”

“Jimmy Morgan.”

“Who?”

He put his lips to the keyhole and whispered hoarsely: “Harriet, don’t you remember me?”

He heard her hurry to the door. When she opened it, he said, “Hullo!”

“Come in, for heaven’s sake,” she said, peering over his shoulder. “Don’t stand there hulloing.”

She looked rumpled, and gummy around the eyes; her head appeared unbalanced, because her hair was up one side and down in wisps the other; she looks the way anyone’s bound to look on waking, he thought, nightdress creased, etc., and
he liked her all the better for it; it made him feel they’d been old friends for years. Nonetheless, she avoided his beaming smile, made a couple of uneasy half-turns, and seemed to be on the point of asking him what it was he wanted. But at last she said, very firmly, “Wait a moment, in the next room, will you?” and sidled off into the bathroom.  

He went into the drawing-room.

Almost at once, there was a knock at the door, and the face of a very old waiter peered in and stared at Morgan with astonishment.

He went to the bathroom and said: “Harriet, there’s someone here.”

She flew out, looking very angry, her face and hands drippy with soapy water. She called sharply at the aged face: “No, Simon, go away please. In an hour.”  

“Yes, Madame-Director,” said the old man.  

“The whole of Mell’s chasing you this morning,” Morgan said, laughing; but Harriet didn’t manage even to smile, and flew back to her toilet.

Already, the drawing-room had a homey, familiar message for him. He looked fondly at the two chairs they had sat in the night before, and marked the spot where they had first kissed. He walked to the window, and smiled to see the little balcony they had never used. The sun was shining, the coloured tables were being put out again, and an old man with a sack on his back was stabbing up the last of yesterday’s paper hats with a pronged stick. It all gave him a warm and tender feeling toward Mell, Poland, and Europe, as well as a bland sense of self-esteem. I am the man who was locked in the closet last night, he reflected; and again, as he looked into the bright sunshine, he was struck by the timelessness of history.

He watched her walking over to him, clean, tidy, calm and innocent. He kissed her, and was preparing to take her in his
arms when she edged away and found herself a cigarette. “Didn’t your parents teach you manners, Jimmy?” she said. She smiled as she said it, but not enough to take away the crossness.

“Shouldn’t one look out of other people’s windows?”

“Never mind. Now you’re here, sit down, Jimmy dear.”

After a moment’s silence, she said: “Jimmy, I don’t exactly know where to start.”

“Is there something you have to tell me?”

“Tell me, do you confide most of what happens to you to that friend of yours?”

“Good God, no! Why?”

“Well, a man always has to have someone to confide in.”

“I can do without that,” he said primly.

She, too, looked prim. Suddenly he saw in her face as clear as day the expression of tranquil, adamant, self-sacrifice that his mother wore when she was going to refuse him something. He saw too that she was searching her mind for the most convenient path into what she had to say; and the closer she came to it, the more her eyes seemed to sparkle with sad, pious delight.

“As you know,” she said at last, in a low tone, gazing at a lamp-shade, “my husband came home last night. He did not sleep in Tutin after all.”

“No.”

“After you left—by the way, you
did
get back all right?”

“Oh yes; no trouble.”

“I was sure not, or I would have asked before. Well, after you had left the room, I had a talk with Larry, a long talk. Larry’s my husband.”

“Of course; you told me.”

She paused, and fixed Morgan with a glowing eye. “When we had finished talking,” she said, “I felt closer to him than I ever had before.”

“Oh, isn’t that a good thing?” he said, his stomach sinking.

“It’s going to make things much easier if you can see it that way. Frankly, it’s much more than I expected from you.”

He, too, began to feel proud. “Well, any man should be able to recognize … not to make trouble … Anyway, I only met you yesterday.”

“I have been married ten years, Jimmy. Larry isn’t the easiest sort of husband. If you ever meet him—and I very much hope you will, because I know you’ll like one another—you’ll find that he’s not like most people.

“He’s always been very ambitious; his job means everything to him. He worked terribly hard when he was young, and he still does.

“Now, he isn’t so young. When he’s disappointed, he’s not able to ignore it as he used to. That’s something I forget, because I’m still so young myself.”

“Not to me,” he said warmly.

“Many men retire when they get to Larry’s age. Larry just can’t do that. He’s very proud. He’s done very well in Europe, but it’s not the same as doing well at home.”

“How funny; that’s just what Max says!”

“You have to do twice as well in another country. Larry says it’s because everything’s twice as easy, and so you can always be twice as brave; but you never really feel brave. Sometimes, he says, you feel like an escaped criminal.”

He wondered at the pride in her voice; she spoke every word as if she treasured it.

“I suppose because I’m so much younger than Larry, he’s never said much to me about such things. He’s never given me a chance to share his mind and doubts. That’s made me feel small, and sometimes it makes me feel mean and I want to punish Larry. I felt that way when I met you. Do you get what I mean?”