The year of the virgins (28 page)

few months than I ever did in all the years before. And I know that if I had lived to be ninety or a hundred I wouldn't have understood half as much as I've come to understand in these past days. I've learned so much lying here, so I'm not sorry all this happened. Strange that, isn't it? for me to say that I'm not sorry that all this happened. And here I am leaving a beautiful young wife and a child. But I'm not worrying about them either. It's all right, Joe, it's all right, I won't go on. What will be will be. I hold you to nothing; you have your own life to live. And Father Ramshaw let it slip the other night that you had your eye on somebody. He was quizzing me to find out which one it was, but I couldn't tell him and I'm not asking you now, Joe, either. Every man has a right to change his mind, and Annette and the child are in God's hands. He'll take care of them. Don't look so worried, Joe, and don't say anything. Please, don't say anything. I understand everything.'

'You don't, you don't. Who do you think you are anyway? God, already?'

'Oh, Joe, Joe, don't make me laugh. That's funny, you know. I ache when I try to laugh. Oh, she's coming. She's heavy-footed, that one; she thumps the carpet. Hold my hand, Joe, and keep holding it, will you?'

Joe took the hand extended to him and when the door opened it was all he could do to turn and look at the nurse as she entered with the steaming cup of cocoa on a tray. He couldn't speak to her but he signalled to her that the patient was asleep, and she shrugged her shoulders, smiled, laid the cocoa down on a side table, then settled herself in an armchair.

At what time Don died, Joe didn't know. He had sat wide-eyed for a long period, the pale hand held in his.

Once, he glanced at the clock, which showed a quarter past one. And it was at about this time that the nurse roused herself and apologetically said, 'I must have dropped off. He's sleeping quietly?'

He nodded at her. She didn't come towards the bed but busied herself at a table for a little while; then sat down again, wrote something in a notebook, and within a short while, if not quite snoring, was emitting quite heavy nasal sounds.

His arm and wrist were in a cramp but still he didn't move. What he did do was try to edge his chair a little nearer to the side of the bed to relieve the tension on his shoulder. It was some time after this that he closed his eyes and some time again before a voice said, 'Oh! Mr Coulson. Mr Coulson!'

His eyes sprang wide open and he stared at the nurse on the other side of the bed as she had Don's other wrist between her fingers.

'I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid, Mr Coulson . . .'

He looked at the face on the pillow. It appeared to be warm and alive, yet stiff, as if it had been set into a mould. It could have been a sleeping face, but it wasn't.

'He's . . . he's gone, Mr Coulson.'

'Yes, yes, I know.' Slowly, he lifted the thin white hand and unwound his fingers until they were straight, then just as slowly eased his cramped arm from the bed.

'I'd ... I'd better phone the doctor.'

'Yes. Yes, nurse.'

'And . . . and call his father and his wife.'

'Leave that to me.'

Why was he so calm? It was as if he had imbibed the feelings that Don had expressed a short while ago: he was feeling no sorrow, no remorse, just a quietness

that was expressed in the face on the pillow and that seemed to fill the whole room, for, it was true, she had gone too. Definitely she had gone.

He flexed his arms and went towards the door; but he found he couldn't grip the handle with his right hand, so opened it with his left.

Instead of making for the hall and up the stairs to alert both Annette and his father, he turned the other way and towards his quarters. And from his sitting-room he opened his door into the conservatory; then he opened the conservatory door and stepped out into the night, which was bright with moonlight: the full moon was hanging like an enormous yellow cheese in a pale blue sky. The air was cool and there was just the slightest breeze. He felt it through the sweat on his brow. He put his head back and took in the great expanse of nothingness in which just the moon floated and the stars twinkled and into which Don and his mother had gone, but in their separate ways.

Within seven weeks the house had been sold and almost completely denuded of furniture. Daniel had furnished his new home with the better pieces, and Maggie and Stephen were already installed there.

The new owners of the house agreed to keep on Bill and Lily in the lodge. All that remained was for Annette, the baby, and Peggie to be moved into the cottage. And it was strange that, although it was weeks since Don had been buried from the house, Annette still seemed hesitant to move permanently away from it. She had driven backwards and forwards to the cottage almost every day, returning to the house at night to sleep. Today, however, was her final day here; as it was Joe's. And where was Joe going?

Only this morning he had filled his car with cases holding his clothes and boxes holding his books, and had driven them to his new home. Where was this? As yet no-one knew, and the question was now being put to him by Daniel. They were standing in the empty drawing-room, and when Joe told him where he was to live Daniel didn't

speak for a moment; then he said, 'You can't do that, man.'

'Why can't I?'

'Well, there'll be talk.'

'My God! Dad, for you to say that to me: there'll be talk.'

'Oh, I know, I know, but my life's mine and I'll have to stand the racket for it, I always have. But you're different. Here you are twenty-six years of age and no-one could raise a finger to you.'

'Dear God! I just can't believe it.'

'I'm only speaking for your own good. There'll be talk.'

'Yes, there'll be talk. And what the hell does it matter to me who talks? What is amazing to me at this moment is the way you re talking.'

'All right, all right. I don't want to argue with you, Joe. I'm past arguing in all ways.'

T wouldn't have thought so.'

'I'm only thinking of you.'

'Only thinking of me? and Father Cody? and Father Ramshaw? Well, let me tell you, you can cut Father Ram-shaw out.'

T would doubt it in this case.'

'We can wait and see then, can't we?'

As Joe turned away Daniel said, 'Joe. Joe, we are breaking up. It's as if a bomb had hit us, a time bomb left over from the war, and it's knocking us to blazes one way or another. You and me, we don't want to part like this. You're all I've got in the way of a son, and it's because of that I've said what I've said.'

'Well, you've still got a son, Dad, if you want one, but he's got to live his own life, as you've lived yours. And don't forget it, you have lived it, and right to the full. I

haven't sipped at mine yet, but I'm going to. But don't worry, I'll be along to see you later, perhaps tonight or tomorrow. So goodbye Dad, for the present.'

In the hall Annette was standing with the baby in her arms and he said, 'Are you ready, then?'

'Yes, Joe. But . . . but there's no need for you to drop me off; Peggie will be back with the car at any time. She's just slipped into the town to see her mother. I can wait.'

'Well, I've got nothing else to do at the moment.'

'Is your place all fixed up?' Her voice was stiff as she asked the question, and he said, 'Yes. Yes, all fixed up and very nicely.'

'You've been very secretive about it; why?'

'Oh, you'll soon know the reason. It'll be all out shortly.'

She cast him a sidelong glance, then went towards the front door. But there she turned and looked around the hall and towards the stairs and, her voice grim now, she said, 'If ever there was an unlucky house, this is it. Pray God I'll never know such again.'

'Pray God you never will.'

He opened the rear door for her and settled the baby on her knee; then took his seat behind the wheel. And they had gone some distance before she said, 'Wherever this place of yours is, will you be near enough to drop in now and again?'

'Oh, yes, yes, definitely.'

'Joe.'

'Yes, Annette?'

'Can't you tell me? Why have you kept this place secret?'

'Well, Annette' - he paused, for they were approaching a corner - 'I thought it the best policy. And, you see, there is this young woman concerned, and I felt I've dallied with

her long enough; I wanted to bring things to a head sort of abruptly.'

'I don't understand you, Joe, not lately I don't.'

'Well, Annette, for a long time I didn't understand myself, but now I do and I know what I'm about.'

'Well, that's all that matters, isn't it?'

'Yes, that's all that matters, Annette.'

There was nothing more said between them as the car sped the rest of the journey through pleasant countryside. And then there they were bowling up the short drive and stopping in front of the long, grey-stoned two-storey house.

He opened the front door into the small hallway and she went in before him, then stopped abruptly and looked down at the four suitcases standing side by side near the telephone table. Swinging round, she looked up at him, and he said, 'Yes, yes, they're mine. There are a number of boxes, too, books you know, but I've put them in the loft.'

She took three steps back from him, and he said, 'Look out! you'll fall over the chair. Come and sit down.'

He pushed open the door of the sitting-room, then took the baby from her and, entering the room he laid it on a deep-cushioned armchair.

She hadn't followed but was still standing at the door, and so he walked back to her, took her hand and brought her to the couch. And here, pressing her down into it, he sat beside her and said, 'This is my new flat; I'm staying here. I've already picked my rooms at the end of the corridor upstairs. They'll do for a time. What do you think about it?' His hand spread out, taking in the room with the gesture. 'Quite a nice place?'

'Stop it! Joe. Stop it!"

'No, I'm not going to stop it.' His own voice had changed now, all the banter gone. 'I'm doing what I should have

done many years ago. I shouldn't have been pressed aside. You know it, and I know it. And Don knew it. Oh, yes, Don knew it. You were mine long before you were his. We both knew that. I don't know where you come in in that part, but I knew that if I had spoken before Dad started his manoeuvres, I would have had a wife by now, and a family. You grew to love Don. I'll not deny that. And he loved you. Oh, yes, he loved you. You loved each other. But it was an interlude. As I see it now, that's all it was, an interlude. In looking back, you belonged to me right from the beginning. Can you imagine what I felt like when I was forced to take on the big brother role? Can you? Oh, don't cry, my dear. Don't cry. I want to talk to you. I've got a lot more to say and it's this: I've waited so long now I can go on waiting until you're ready, but I've got to be near you, and I've got to know that you are mine, and that one day we will marry. And I can't help but add I hope it will be soon. But you know something? Dad warned me just before I left the house that there'd be talk. He was upset when I told him what I was going to do. He of all people to tell me that there would be talk. Can you imagine it? Now, the point is this, Annette. The talk could have substance, or it couldn't. I leave that to you and in your own time. Just know this. I love you . . . I've always loved you, and I can't see myself, after all this long time, ever stopping. And because I love you so much I feel that it would be impossible for you not to love me in some way, some time.'

'Joe. Joe.' Her eyes were tightly closed. Her head fell against him and rested on his shoulder as she muttered, 'I do love you. I love you now. I've been full of guilt with the feeling. I loved Don. Yes, I did. But I loved you too. All through I've known I loved you, and not just as a brother. Oh, Joe. Joe.'

His chin lay on top of her head, his eyes were screwed up tight, his teeth biting into his lower lip. Then pressing her face upwards from his shoulder, he brought his lips gently down on hers. And when she clung to him Flo's words sprang into his mind: 'Everything comes to him who waits.' Then his eyes twinkling, he said quietly, 'You know there'll be a field-day. Are you prepared for that?'

'Yes, Joe.' Her face still wet, the tears still running, she repeated again, 'Yes, Joe. And the stalls and the coconut shies.'

'With Father Cody pelting us?'

Once more they were enfolded in each other's arms and Joe added, 'And by God! he will that. Even if we get no further than this' - he kissed her on the tip of her nose -'he'll flay us as only he can flay with his tongue . . .'

She looked at him steadily now as she said, 'Well, we'll have to see that we are flayed for something, won't we, Joe?'

'Oh, my dear. My dear.'

Gently now they enfolded each other and lay back against the couch. But when a small cry came from the chair, their mouths opened wide and they laughed aloud. Then, springing up, Joe picked up the baby and, rocking it widely from side to side, he cried, 'Listen to me, Flo Coulson, your mother loves me. Do you hear that? Your mother loves me. Everything comes to him who waits. Your mother loves me.'