Edmund Cooper - Transit

A solitary stroll, then, no longer seemed an abnormally hazardous venture. Being alone was a bitter-sweet pleasure for which his taste seemed to be growing.

Barbara was more aware of his inner turmoil than he suspected. She said little enough when he took himself off for long periods; but she charted the change in his moods and habits anxiously, trying vainly to persuade herself that his moodiness was an obscure variation on the theme of homesickness. They all suffered from it occasionally—but not nearly as much as they would have expected. There were times when they felt they would give anything to experience once again the sights and sounds of London. But the sensation would pass, and they would contrast the freedom of their new lives with the restrictions and frustrations of the old. And suddenly, the sunlight would seem brighter, and the sea utterly wonderful.

When she was not trying to cheat herself, Barbara knew that it was not homesickness that Avery was suffering from. And, in turn, she herself became subject to moods—fits of despondency, feelings of guilt and inadequacy.

There was a further complication to consider. Recently, she and Avery had begun to make love. Or at least they began to have sexual intercourse. Avery, inspired by the altogether beneficial change in Tom and Mary, and at the same time feeling that he was denying Barbara something that was hers by hereditary right, had made tentative—and awkward—overtures in the darkness of their tent. Barbara had responded with enthusiasm— perhaps too much enthusiasm—for though the mechanics of the operation were perfect, it proved sadly to be no more than that: a mechanical operation. Physical passion received its quietus, for a time. The body was fulfilled, but the soul remained strangely empty.

They had made ‘love’ not more than half a dozen times. It, too, had become a formula…

The storm broke one night when Avery felt impelled to ‘do his duty’ once again. He placed a hand on Barbara’s breast—the same hand, the same breast—and slipped an arm round her shoulder, thoughtfully taking care, as usual, not to entangle it with her hair. Next would come the first kiss, a hard empty kiss, then a fondling and a stroking of her arms and neck; and then….

Barbara could stand it no longer. She pushed him away. ‘Not tonight—please….’

He was surprised. ‘Is anything wrong?’ Even the gentleness of his voice was mechanical.

‘Yes, there’s a hell of a lot wrong,’ she sobbed bitterly. ‘Where are you? There’s a part of you that’s gone away, and I don’t know where it is. I only know that it isn’t here All that wants to make love to me is a body with a bloody, built-in, automatic, self-regulating social conscience.’

Her body shook with the intensity of her frustration. She hated Avery, she hated herself, she hated the words she had spoken; and, above all, she hated the treacherous, scalding tears.

Avery was appalled. ‘Barbara…. Dear Barbara,’ he said lamely. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Having started the scene, and loathing herself for it, Barbara was determined to fight it out to a finish.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded angrily. ‘What in God’s name do you want? If you want me to act like a harlot, I’ll do it. If you want me to pretend I’m a shy, cowering virgin, I’ll do my best. I’ll even crawl on all fours if it will make you happy But if I don’t know what you want, how—how can I ever hope to give it?’ Avery felt like a swine. Hell, he told himself savagely, I am a bloody swine—with megalomaniac tendencies….

‘What I want,’ he began, ‘it’s not what you can give me, Barbara.’

That made matters worse.

‘Goddammit, what do you want?’ she cried.

‘I want to find out,’ he said desperately. ‘I want to find out what sort of world we’ve been dumped on, why we’re here, what we can do about it I want to know.

I want to know something more….’

‘Is that all?’ She seemed to find it amusing. ‘You’re a liar! That’s only a diversion! You want Christine’s breast and Christine’s lips. You don’t want to find out anything at all. You just want to make love to a sad little ghost…. You’re only looking for excuses.’

That was when he struck her. It was the first time he had ever hit a woman in anger. As soon as he had done it, he hoped—he hoped with all his heart—it would be the last.

‘Tomorrow,’ he said coldly, trying to hide his shame, ‘tomorrow, I’m setting off to do a bit of exploration. I may be away two or three days. Perhaps by the time I get back ’

‘You’re not going alone,’ she said savagely. ‘That’s a standing order—delivered by the illustrious leader of the expedition. I’m going with you…. Now hit me again, and try to change my mind.’

‘Please yourself,’ snapped Avery. ‘I doubt whether I shall be much company.’

‘When were you ever?’ sighed Barbara. She felt empty. The anger had drained out of her. Only the frustration remained.

They did not start until late in the morning. Tom held no brief for what he called ‘the exploring jaunt’. He voiced his objections loudly. What if they got lost? What if they ran into something they couldn’t handle? What if the golden people found out they had gone and decided, in view of the reduced garrison, to attack Camp Two?

Avery met all his objections stolidly. They wouldn’t get lost because they would stick to the coast. They wouldn’t run into anything they couldn’t handle, because they would take damn good care to avoid it. If the golden people had had it in mind to attack Camp Two, they could have found several perfectly good opportunities during the last few months; and anyway it was psychologically bad to let fear of attack dominate their lives all the time. It made for stagnation and withdrawal.

‘I think you’re a bloody nut case,’ said Tom with heat. ‘If you want to take risks, that’s up to you—but why you have to drag Barbara off on this damnfool jaunt is completely beyond me.’

‘I am not exactly dragging her with me,’ retorted Avery drily. ‘In fact, I’d be perfectly happy if she didn’t come.’

‘Well, I am coming, and that’s an end of it,’ snapped Barbara.

Tom looked at them both in bewilderment.

‘How long do you think you’ll be away?’

‘Can’t say. Perhaps three or four days.’

‘Not good enough,’ said Tom. ‘You must fix a definite limit. If you aren’t back by then, we’ll assume the worst and plan accordingly.’

‘In that case,’ said Avery, with sarcasm; ‘what would you propose to do?’

‘That’s our business,’ said Tom shortly. ‘But you can bet your boots we propose to stay alive.’

‘I hardly expected you to harbour the death-wish.’

‘No. It’s a damn good job it isn’t infectious,’ said Tom meaningly.

‘We’ll be back by the end of the fourth day, if that makes you feel any happier,’ said Avery.

Strangely enough, Mary, the most timid one, was not against the venture. She was, in many respects, much wiser than Tom; and she sensed that there was a great deal more to Avery’s obsession to find fresh woods and pastures new than was immediately apparent.

‘Look after yourselves,’ she said gently. ‘Maybe Richard is right. Maybe we are sinking into a rut—’

Anyway, it should be exciting. We’ll have a party when you get back. It’s the best excuse that’s come up for a long time.’ She kissed Barbara on the cheek, then turned to Avery. ‘You’d better take special care of her, or I shall be really cross.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Suddenly, Avery and Tom found themselves shaking hands.

‘If you find any gold mines, send me a telegram,’ said Tom.