The Watchers on the Shore (32 page)

My touch seems to melt her. The next thing I know she's in
tears.

Donna... Donna, love.' I turn her round and she rests her face on my chest. 'What's wrong?'

'Oh, I shall be nothing but trouble for you. You'd be better off never having met me.'

'A bit of trouble, that's to be expected. But don't you know how
happy you've made me? Don t you?'

'How long will it be before you start hating me, though?'

'You're talking silly now. The milk ...'

I reach past her and lift the pan as the milk comes to the boil.

'Look, you go and sit down in there and I'll see to the coffee. Off you go. I'll be with you in a minute.'

She goes away and I make the coffee and add sugar, then half-
fill the pan with water from the tap and put it in the sink before carrying the cups into the other room. Donna's standing looking
down at the electric fire and I put both cups on the low narrow
mantelshelf and stand beside her, one arm round her shoulders.

'Do you want an aspirin or something?'

'No, thanks. I'll be all right after a good night's sleep.'

Can you sleep in tomorrow?'

'Yes. I'll stay as long as I want to.'

'It'd be nice if I could come round and take you out to lunch.'

'You couldn't, though, could you?'

'No, there isn't the time. But I like you in daylight as well as at
night.'

She lifts her hand and presses mine where it rests lightly on her
shoulder. Our days and nights are both numbered. Time running
out. Unless...

'You'd better sit down and drink your coffee.'

'Yes.'

She does as I say and curls up with her feet under her at one end
of the sofa.

'Did you think it went well tonight?'

'I don't know. It was a bit stiff. And with the place crawling
with managers and critics we were all a bit keyed up. Did you like
it?'

'Very much.'

'It'll settle down later in the week. It's a pity they all have to
come on the first night.'

'Did any of them drop any hints about how they liked it?'

'Oh no, they're too discreet for that. They go and phone their notices in then drink with you and smile and make pleasant
conversation. By the time you see it in print it's too late to argue.
Not that that would do any good anyway.'

'This other thing that Carter and Wilf Cotton want you to do; is it a television play?'

'Yes. They want me for the lead.'

'Don't you want to do it?'

'I don't know. I haven't seen the script yet.'

'It could be a big break for you, couldn't it?'

'Yes. But all kinds of things come into it ...' She puts her
hand to her forehead. 'Oh, I don't know; I can't think about it
tonight.'

'No, you've had enough. I'll clear off and let you get to bed.'

I put my cup down and go and sit beside her for a moment,
kissing her lightly on the cheek.

'I'd like to undress you and carry you in and tuck you up like a little girl.'

Except I'm not a little girl. I haven't been for a thousand years.'

'It's very convenient, all things considered.'

She turns her head and looks directly at me with something like
the grave intensity of that first night when I kissed her in the hall.
Only a few short weeks ago. So little time ago, so little time to
come ... Only now her eyes are searching mine as though she's
looking for something she wants from me but which I for some
reason can't give her. And I'm out of my depth, suddenly shaken to the core by a feeling of both helplessness and fear.

17

It's my week-end at home so I go to the Palace again on Thursday,
by myself, partly to have
another look at the play, but mostly
because I just want to see Donna. Watching her perform on the
stage gives me a terrific thrill. She's very good and I'm tremen
dously proud of her.

There's only one interval and during it I slip out to the stalls bar
and run into Wilf Cotton.

'Now then. You here again?'

He laughs. 'I can't keep away.'

'I thought I'd have another look at it myself. It's settling down a
bit, don't you think?'

'Yes, it's amazing the difference a couple of nights can make.'

How were the reviews?'

Mixed. Some quite good, some indifferent.'

'But none really bad?'

'No.'

'Well, that's something. D'you think anybody's going to take it
up?'

'Well they're not biting one another's hands off, let's admit
it.' He shrugs. 'There's always a chance but I'm not very hope
ful now. The trouble is the best reviews were in the wrong
papers.'

'You can't win, can you?'

He laughs again. 'No, it's a hard life.'

We're standing drinking beer near the door, watching people
come in and fight for their drinks. One or two, noticing him and
remembering his picture on the programme, throw discreet little
looks his way, wondering if he really is the author.

'You get some interesting free opinions just mingling with the
audience,' he says, refusing with a shake of his head as I offer him a
cigarette. 'I've just heard somebody say it's not as good
as Look
Back in Anger
and somebody else who thinks it's streets ahead of
A Taste of Honey.'

'Not a bad middle position.'

'No, I suppose not. Here, let me . ..'

He takes my glass as I fumble one-handed with matches and
holds it while I light my fag.

Thanks. By the way, I'm sorry about that little bit of unpleasantness the other night.'

'With Clive Carter, you mean? Forget about it.'

'I seem to be spending my time apologizing for it. And he was in
the wrong.'

Of course he was. Marguerite didn't half give him the treatment on the way home. She can be very cool and cutting when she wants to be.'

'Isn't she with you tonight'?'

'No, she had something else on.'

'I just thought he was an objectionable bastard. I'm sorry if he's
a friend of yours.'

Oh no, he's not my type, mate. But he's one of the best television directors in the business and I'm lucky to get him for my play. He came out both to see
Jack
and look at Donna. To see if time had been kind to her was his typical way of putting it. He'd an idea she'd be good casting for one of the
parts.'

'They've worked together before, I believe.'

They used to live together. That's the trouble with the dramatic world. You never know when you're putting your foot down just what private corns you're treading on.'

Too true, mate, I'm thinking. And the actors aren't all in the
profession, either. Some ordinary people are occasionally good at it. Like me, just now. Those heavy reactions you get in films and
plays, they don't always happen in real life. You get a thump and
your face stays straight and you just go on talking.

Is she going to do the play?'

I really couldn't say. They've got it between them. I'd like her to. She'd be good in it and it's a good part, even if I do say so as wrote it.' He smiles. 'And having been wrong before.'

The bell rings and people start drifting back into the auditorium.

'Well, back to the fight.'

He looks round for somewhere to put his glass and I take it and
put it with mine on a narrow shelf that I can see now.

'All the best with it, if I don't see you again.'

He waves as he goes off. 'Thanks. Been nice seeing you.'

I go straight round to the flat after the show. Donna's lent me a
key and I switch the fire on, put the Rachmaninov on the record-
player and sit down and think while I'm waiting for her. I'm
conscious all the time now of screws tightening, of pressures
bearing down on me, of decisions that ought to be made. Were there
ever any ideal conditions for an affair, when you could sail along
on an even keel with no more strain than's involved in a bit of discreet covering-up? But I never wanted that kind of affair. I
knew, at bottom, that if I got involved then decisions would come
into it. The trouble is they've come into it a bit too soon and if I
don't make them now circumstances will pretty soon do it for
me.

Can I leave Ingrid? Is that the question? Or wouldn't if be better to ask myself if I can bear losing Donna? It's all happened so quickly. If only we could let time bring the answers up gradually. Put them on the agenda for six months from now. But we can't. What about her? What does she want from me? Is she ready for any kind of permanent arrangement? How would it work out with her career? I could never expect her to settle down to being just a housewife, could I?

What with the music belling out and me in a brown study, I don't hear her come in till she's right in the room.

'You're looking very serious, darling.'

'I was thinking.'

'That much was obvious.'

'I was thinking about us.'

She puts her bag and short coat on a chair and comes and bends
over and kisses me, then looks into my face from a distance of six
inches.

'You looked the picture of gloom.'

'I'm a bit of a melancholy type. Didn't you know?'

'Yes. If you haven't got any problems you'll invent some.'

'Oh, my problems are real enough.'

'Are they the same old ones or a fresh batch?'

'The old ones are good enough to be going on with. Anyway, I
don't have to think about them now you're here.'

She lifts her hand. 'Do you like this?' Meaning the music.

Mmm. Lovely.'

'I thought you would. But I'm not going to let you indulge
yourself. I'm putting something more cheerful on.'

I watch her as she goes to the player and takes the record off in
mid-movement. She seems to have got rid of her mood of Monday
night. She's quite gay. Whether it's genuine or a pose, I can't tell. She puts the
My Fair Lady
recording on.

Why didn't you give yourself a drink?'

'I thought I'd wait for you. And anyway, I don't like to go
poking about too much in other people's homes.'

She pulls a face. 'Am I "other people"?'

'No - you're "the other woman".'

'In letters of flaming scarlet.'

'Luring me into nights of vice and debauchery.'

'To the accompaniment of Rachmaninov.'