Уильям Моэм - The Narrow Corner

“I’d hardly got home before she rang me up. I wouldn’t speak to her and rang off. She rang again and again, fortunately mother was out, and I just didn’t answer. There was a letter waiting for me at the office next morning, ten pages of it, you know the sort of thing; I took no notice of it; I certainly wasn’t going to answer. When I went out for lunch at one o’clock she was standing in the doorway waiting for me, but I walked right past her, as quick as I could, and got away in the crowd. I thought she might be there when I came back, so I walked along with one of the chaps at the office, who had his dinner the same place that I had lunch. She was there right enough, but I pretended I didn’t see her, and she was afraid to speak. I found another chap to walk out with in the evening. She was still there. I suppose she’d been waiting all the time so that I shouldn’t slip out. D’you know, she had the nerve to come straight up to me. She put on a society manner.

“‘How d’you do, Fred?’ she said. ‘What a bit of luck meeting you. I’ve got a message for your father.’

“The chap walked on before I could stop him, and I was caught.

“‘What d’you want?’ I said.

“I was in a flaming passion.

“‘Oh, my God, don’t talk to me like that,’ she said. ‘Have pity on me. I’m so unhappy. I can’t see straight.’

“‘I’m very sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t help it.’

“Then she began to cry, right there in the middle of the street, with people passing all the time. I could have killed her.

“‘Fred, it’s no good,’ she said, ‘you can’t throw me over. You’re everything in the world to me.’

“‘Oh, don’t be so silly,’ I said. ‘You’re an old woman and I’m hardly more than a kid. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.’

“‘What does that matter?’ she said. ‘I love you with all my heart.’

“‘Well, I don’t love you,’ I said. ‘I can’t bear the sight of you. I tell you it’s finished. For God’s sake leave me alone.’

“‘Isn’t there anything I can do to make you love me?’ she said.

“‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I’m fed up with you.’

“‘Then I shall kill myself,’ she said.

“‘That’s your trouble,’ I said, and I walked away quickly before she could stop me.

“But although I said it just like that, as if I didn’t care a damn, I wasn’t easy about it. They say people who threaten to commit suicide never do, but she wasn’t like other people. The fact is, she was a madwoman. She was capable of anything. She was capable of coming up to the house and shooting herself in the garden. She was capable of swallowing poison and leaving some awful letter behind. She might accuse me of anything. You see, I hadn’t only myself to think of, I had to think of father, too. If I was mixed up in something it might have done him an awful lot of harm, especially just then. And he isn’t the sort of man to let you off easy, if you’ve made a fool of yourself. I can tell you I didn’t sleep much that night. I worried myself sick. I should have been furious if I’d found her hanging about the street outside the office in the morning, but in a way I’d have been rather relieved. She wasn’t there. There was no letter for me either. I began to get a bit scared, and I had a job to prevent myself ringing up to see if she was all right. When the evening paper came out I just made a grab at it. Pat Hudson was pretty prominent, and if something had happened to her there’d sure to be a lot about it. But there wasn’t a thing. That day there was nothing, no sign of her, no telephone message, no letter, nothing in the paper, and the day after, and the day after that it was just the same. I began to think it was all right and I was rid of her. I came to the conclusion it was all a bluff. Oh, my God, how thankful I was! But I’d had my lesson. I made up my mind to be damned careful in future. No more middle–aged women for me. I’d got all nervous and wrought–up. You can’t think what a relief it was to me. I don’t want to make myself out any better than I am, but I have some sense of decency and really that woman was the limit. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes she just horrified me. I’m all for having a bit of fun, but damn it all, I don’t want to make a beast of myself.”

Dr. Saunders did not reply. He understood pretty well what the boy meant. Careless and hot–blooded, with the callousness of youth, he took his pleasure where he found it, but youth is not only callous, it is modest, and his instinct was outraged by the unbridled passion of the experienced woman.

“Then about ten days later I got a letter from her. The envelope was typewritten or I shouldn’t have opened it. But it was quite sensible. It started, ‘Dear Fred.’ She said she was awfully sorry she’d made me all those scenes, and she thought she must have been rather crazy, but she’d had time to calm down and she didn’t want to be a nuisance to me. She said it was her nerves, and she’d taken me much too seriously. Everything was all right now, and she didn’t bear me any ill will. She said I mustn’t blame her, because it was partly my fault for being so absurdly good–looking. Then she said she was starting for New Zealand next day, and was going to be away for three months. She’d got a doctor to say she needed a complete change. Then she said Pat was going to Newcastle that night, and would I come in for a few minutes to say good–bye to her. She gave me her solemn word of honour that she wouldn’t be troublesome, all that was over and done with, but somehow or other Pat had got wind of something, it was nothing important, but it was just as well I told the same story as her if by any chance he asked me any questions. She hoped I’d come, because though it couldn’t matter to me and I was absolutely safe, things might be a little awkward for her and she certainly didn’t want to get into any trouble if she could help it.

“I knew it was true about Hudson going to Newcastle because my old man had said something about it at breakfast that morning. The letter was absolutely normal. Sometimes she wrote in a scrawl that you could hardly read, but she could write very well when she wanted to, and I could see that when she’d written this she’d been absolutely calm. I was a little anxious about what she’d said about Pat. She had insisted on taking the most awful risks, though I’d warned her over and over again. If he’d heard anything it did seem better that we should tell the same lie, and forewarned is forearmed, isn’t it? So I rang her up and said I’d be there about six. She was so casual over the telephone that I was almost surprised. It sounded as though she didn’t much care if I came or not.

“When I got there she shook hands with me as if we were just friends. She asked me if I’d like some tea. I said I’d had it before I came. She said she wouldn’t keep me a minute because she was going to the pictures. She was all dressed up. I asked her what was the matter with Pat, and she said it wasn’t really very serious, only he’d heard that I’d been at the pictures with her, and he didn’t much like it. She’d said it was just an accident. Once I’d seen her sitting by herself and come over and sat by her, and another time we’d met in the vestibule, and as she was alone I’d paid for her seat and we’d gone in together. She said she didn’t think Pat would mention it, but if he did, she wanted me to back her up. Of course I said I would. She mentioned the two times he was asking about, so that I should know, and then she began talking about her journey. She knew New Zealand well and she started talking about it. I’d never been there. It sounded fine. She was going to stay with friends and she made me laugh telling me about them. She could be jolly nice when she liked. She was awfully good company when she was in a good temper, I must admit that, and I never realised that time was passing. She was just like what she was when I first knew her. At last she got up and said she’d better be going. I suppose I’d been there about half an hour, maybe three–quarters. She gave me her hand and she looked at me half laughing.