“When does it become final?”
“It already has. I shan’t go back to the office, ever.” He looked away
from her, out through the French windows across the lawn. “I resigned at
twelve noon, and I haven’t felt the ulcer since.
Isn’t that marvelous?”
“Yes.” She followed his gaze, and saw the sun shining redly through the
branches of her favorite tree, the Scots pine. “Have you made any
plans?”
“I thought we could do that together.” He smiled directly at her. “But I
shall get up late; and eat three small meals a day, always at the same
times; and watch television; and see whether I can remember how to
paint.”
She nodded. She felt awkward; they both did.
Suddenly there was a new relationship between them, and they were
feeling their way, unsure what to say or how to behave. For him, the
situation was simple: he had made the sacrifice she asked, given her his
soul; and now he wanted her to acknowledge it, to accept the gift with
some gesture. But for her, that gesture would mean letting Felix go out
of her life. I can’t do it, she thought; and the words rang in her head
like the echoing syllables of a curse.
He said: “What would you like us to do?”
It was as if he knew of her dilemma, and wanted to force her hand, to
make her talk about the two of them as a unit.
“I would like us to take a long time deciding,” she said.
“Good idea.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to change my clothes.”
“I’ll come up with you.” She picked up her drink and followed him. He
looked surprised, and in truth she too was a little shocked: it was
thirty years since they had been in the habit of watching one another
undress.
They went through the hall and climbed the main staircase together. He
panted with the effort, and said: “In six months’ time I shall be
running up here.” He was looking to the future with so much pleasure;
she with so much dread.
For him, life was beginning again. if only he had done this before she
met Felix!
He held the bedroom door open for her, and her heart missed a beat.
This had once been a ritual; a sign between them; a lovers’ code. It had
started when they were young. She had noticed that he became almost
embarrassingly courteous to her when he felt lustful, and she said as a
joke:
“YOU only open doors for me when you want to make love.” Then, of
course, they thought of sex every time he opened a door for her, and it
became his way of letting her know he wanted it.
One felt the need of such signals in those days: nowadays she felt quite
happy about saying to Felix: “Let’s do it on the floor.”
Did Derek remember? Was he now telling her that this was the
acknowledgment he wanted? It had been years; and he was so gross. Was it
possible?
He went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. She sat at her
dressing table and brushed her hair. In the mirror she watched him come
out of the bathroom and begin to take off his clothes.
He still did it the same way: first shoes, then trousers, then jacket.
He had told her, once, that this was the way it had to be; for the
trousers went on the hanger before the jacket, and the shoes had to come
off before the trousers would.
She had told him how peculiar a man looked in his shirt, tie, and socks.
They had both laughed.
He removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar with a sigh of
relief. Collars always bothered him. Perhaps he need not wear them
buttoned anymore.
He took off his shirt, then his socks, then his vest, and finally his
underwear shorts. Then he caught her eye in the mirror. There was
something close to defiance in his gaze, as if he were saying: “This is
what an old man looks like, so you’d better get used to it.” She met his