Maggie Gee - Virginia Woolf in Manhattan

If it all came right, she would get away, she could sleep on the plane, if they let her go, if she ever managed to leave the park.

That morning the light was beautiful. The gang looked more ordinary, less scary — sullen, sleepy, terribly young. One or two actually cried out in their dreams and the tall deerhound licked hands or faces, though Lily jealously kicked it away. It was her dog; it was her he must love, and perhaps she had no-one else to love her.

‘Get on with it, quick, I’ve got to fucking lose the phone,’ said Lil, who had watched most of the booking process over Gerda’s shoulder in open admiration (‘It’s different for you. You can do all that. I haven’t got a mother with cards and stuff.’)

‘Waiting,’ said Gerda, praying it would work, pouring all her hopes on to the paralysed screen, and in this strange world, hope was rewarded, and as Turkish Airlines finally yielded a seat, Lil snatched the phone out of Gerda’s hand and disappeared into the bushes.

By 9 AM it was starting to get warm. The sleeping children were awake again, stretching and sniffing, hungry, resentful, openly curious about their intruder. Beardy Boy plucked briefly at Gerda’s jacket, on the side of her Lil Robber couldn’t see, and swinging round, Gerda knew he hated her. Trapped in his eyeball, in his red, mean eyes, she saw the Furies watching her.

‘You got to leave,’ Lil Robber said. ‘You owe me swimming lessons, right? You will come back and see me, right?’

Gerda said nothing. She saw Lil knew that they would never meet again. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And you’ll come to me. If I need you, obvers. Blood sisters. And I’ll come to you.’ They looked at each other for a long moment, all the rest locked out, though Gerda half-heard Beard Boy making retching noises. Then he was rifling under the tarpaulin.

‘Would you like your bag back, slag?’ he sneered. ‘Cos you don’t get it, Mummy’s Little Princess. Right?’ he said, suddenly not so certain, looking to Lil for authorisation.

‘Who asked you to speak?’ she growled. ‘Dick.’

For a moment, half a moment, they locked glances. Lil was the boss, but nothing was certain, the contours of the rock were sharp and rough, the dirty children surged about, looking wildly from one to the other, Gerda saw the bearded boy was a killer because he didn’t have anything else to do.

‘I’m giving it you,’ said Gerda suddenly. ‘Yes, you with the beard. Ugly Boy. I was always going to leave it behind.’ There was a ripple of nervous laughter.

He was thrown. ‘You can’t give me nothing. Girly rubbish,’ but he didn’t know what to do next.

‘Look inside,’ Gerda said. He pressed briefly, roughly at the locks. No go.

He came crab-wise down the rock towards her then, muscular, scrawny, his old woman’s beard blowing in the wind, wielding the glittery pink case like a club. Everything was twisted to one side, and his eyes bored into her, little black stones.

Gerda stood her ground, her heart thumping. ‘Give it me, Feebleton, I’ll do it.’ She snatched it from him just before he hit her with it. The locks yielded. She took out Dad’s Swiss Army knife. ‘See, I told you I had something for you.’

‘Yeah, she told you,’ Lil affirmed. The tension in the group of watchers resolved. Most of them crowded round Beard Boy. ‘If you ask me nicely, I’ll tell you what it does.’ But they weren’t listening, they were all trying to touch it.

For a moment, at least, the group was distracted. But everything felt horribly dangerous.

Where was her mother? Did she think about her?

ANGELA

Of course, I was obsessing about my paper. After all that I had done for Virginia, I hoped that I could count on her. Ok, I may have been naïve. But I thought — assumed — Virginia had — what? Some sort of taste. Some discretion.

I read it aloud. It seemed pretty strong. As soon as I’d made a few edits to the text, I got it printed, down in reception. Did I really dare show her before the conference? That was the thing I was conflicted about. But my hunger was stronger than my caution. Obviously I longed to know what she thought.

The plan had been to dine together, with Ray Kuyperman joining us. I thought I was providing her with what she needed: safe, uncomplicated masculine attention.

Wrong premise. Wrong person .

First, she was not in her room when I called. I knocked twice. No answer. I pushed my paper under the door, then tried to get it back, and broke my nail. I was kneeling on the floor on the landing when the Muslim breakfast girl came past with towels. They’re all Muslim, actually, I suppose, but she wore a headscarf, very slim, very proper. She stood watching for a second before she spoke.

‘You look for your … friend?’

‘I am delivering something.’

On the floor, I felt at a disadvantage. This was not a conventional delivery mode.

‘I can help you? You look under the door for your friend, I think?’

‘No, no.’

‘She has gone out. She is, she looking, beautiful!’

I rose to my feet in a dignified manner. She smiled at me. She was very pretty, in a way the headscarf could not conceal. Her skin was pale, her teeth very white, her eyes jet-black. She said, ‘I think you love her.’

‘I like her, yes, of course I do.’ Her English was quaint, perhaps she was a student.

‘So you saw her go out?’

‘Half-hour ago.’

The men down in the lobby set my mind at rest. ‘Yes, first she waited, then she goes to eat.’

‘She waited for me?’ They looked at each other.

‘Yes, maybe.’

‘But she went out alone?’

They consulted again. ‘Yes, but nice colleague show her where to go.’

‘Somewhere safe?’

‘Yes, naturally.’

‘Oh, that’s OK then. Thank you for that. This is, you know, her first time in Turkey.’

‘No problem, we look after her!’

One of the younger ones was smiling too much. He had a wart in the middle of his forehead. The others looked at him repressively. Like the headscarf girl, he was trying too hard to please. But I did not mind it. Better than indifference.

Just at that moment, Ray Kuyperman arrived. Linen-suited, more chiselled than ever. ‘Ray! I’m afraid Virginia’s gone out.’

‘Then we will eat à deux ,’ he said.

I admit I was not entirely displeased. Ray and I had often met at conferences. I liked his intelligence, his gracious manner. Let’s face it, I also liked his good haircut, the elegance of his rangy physique, without the little pot that so many men had. (But not Edward. Edward . The two-beat sadness. So far away. So far, so cold. What had I done? What had I done?)

Don’t think about it. ‘Ray, let’s go.’

And I hardly thought about Virginia again until I came back, slightly tipsy, at midnight.

VIRGINIA

Now I am completely content. Here, now, in this pool of sunlight. The head on the pillow: the gentle breath. Cheek to cheek, skin to skin.

This is where it was, then. Happiness.

And where it is. A second chance.

ANGELA

Why did she have to do it then? Did she not understand how it mattered to me?

She let me down. She let herself down. She was not the great writer I expected her to be. She was — ungenerous to those who came after.

‘Readers connote responsibility.’

She did not try to help with my paper!

Lily Roberta did a generous thing. ‘I’ve got something for you. To help you, you know, on your travels round the world.’ Her face, a rosy, barbarian face, a face, Gerda thought, of fruit and brambles, the eye-whites bright as the wild strawberry flowers that grew all over their London garden, was flushed for a second with generous love. Lil was holding out a subway card. ‘Got it from the idiot whose phone I nicked.’