Anna Kavan - Let Me Alone

‘Aren’t you?’ she persisted.

His eyes were joining now in the irresponsible, satiric smile. He tilted his face in a strange way, all glimmering in the pale grin.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘How extraordinary!’ she cried.

He swung his body from the waist, so lithe and shapely in the close-fitting woollen cardigan.

‘Why?’ he asked, looking up to her.

‘I should never have taken you for an Englishman,’ she said.

She intended a compliment; and so he seemed to understand, for his white teeth flashed in a grin of acknowledgement, sensitive and quick. Exciting to be understood, for a change.

Anna felt as though she were standing on the edge of time. Here she was in the silent, peaceful olive grove, under the shadowy trees. And to-morrow she would be utterly gone. Into this sequestered timelessness, where even the ancient olive trees merged unobtrusive shadows in a general shade, no worldly responsibility or consequence could penetrate. There was no future.

‘This is my last day on earth,’ she said slowly.

‘Mine too,’ he answered.

She looked at him, startled. How could he be so quick to understand her mood? It was uncanny.

‘And which is your next destination? Heaven — or the other one?’ He dropped his eyes suggestively to the ground in his careless, amused fashion.

‘Decidedly not heaven,’ she laughed. ‘A much hotter region. The tropics, in fact.’

‘Really? That is most intriguing.’ His supple body swung forward from the hips, towards her, his face peered at her intently, in a flicker of eager interest, saturnine. ‘I’m going to the tropics, too. To Ceylon. Sailing tomorrow.’ His eyes twinkled and dilated like an animal’s.

‘Are you — really? To-morrow?’ Anna half-closed her eyes and looked at him vaguely, as if she were not quite sure he was actually there.

‘Yes. On the Henzada,’ he said, standing up, and tilting his face with strange, suggestive mischievousness at her.

‘The Henzada is my boat —’ her voice was full of remote wonder.

He came closer and smiled his disturbing smile, under the fine, arched nose.

‘I knew it! I knew we had to know each other.’

He flashed a little look of mocking triumph, standing with head drawn back, a trifle affected, very blithe and winsome in his casual style.

The sun was setting. A slow red fume was blowing across the west, a fiery smoke against the duskier smoke-blue of the darkening sky. Anna was excited and gay. She knew that the young man found her attractive. His name, he told her, was Rex Findlay.

THE Henzada was sailing at mid-day. Passengers must be aboard an hour or so earlier. Anna got a shock when she saw the boat lying there in the midst of the chaos of the docks. Such a wretched-looking little tub of a one-funnelled boat, it seemed scarcely larger than a channel steamer. She couldn’t believe that she was to travel for three solid weeks, day and night, in that. But when they got on board, and she saw the clean young stewards and the ship’s officers, quite efficient looking, she felt a bit reassured. There was quite a professional, sea-going orderliness and smartness about the men, though the boat itself was anything but up-to-date.

It soon became apparent that Matthew’s carefully laid plans had miscarried again. It was strange what a demon of inefficiency always stalked alongside his most elaborate scheming.

The steward looked up their berth numbers which turned out to be widely separated. Matthew had been allotted a share in a deck cabin with three other men; Anna was to share with another woman, somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Imagine the way Matthew had been looking forward to getting Anna to himself in a small cabin, and you realize the extent of the disaster for him.

He was infuriated. He stopped quite still, blocking up the narrow passage where they happened to be. He was almost bursting with rage. He clenched his fists: his eyes went hot and dangerous: and he would not listen to the steward who was explaining that the boat was very crowded and that many married people were obliged to separate.

‘It’s a mistake,’ he said, in a tone of loud indignation. ‘A preposterous mistake. My cabin was booked long ago.’

He stood with clenched fists, blocking up the way. The steward watched him with a helpless face. Anna winced in discomfort and tried to urge him along. Was he going to stand there for ever? People were waiting to pass. Suddenly there came a thump. Matthew had snatched his bag from the steward and dropped it on the floor. He turned round in solemn wrath.

‘I shall go to the chief steward,’ he said. ‘I refuse to be put upon in this disgraceful manner.’ Whereupon he marched off, in a fine fume of indignation.

Anna followed behind, not knowing what else to do.

The chief steward, or whoever it was who had the final word in these matters, was sitting behind a table. He was a big, red-faced Scotchman, rather bossy and overbearing.

‘Well, what can I do for you?’ he began largely, seeing the irate Matthew bearing down upon him. He began by being lordly and condescending towards the complaint. ‘But, my dear sir, there is nothing I can do. The boat is as full as an egg.’ He smiled in a curious spiteful way, showing his teeth like a dog that wants a fight.

‘You must do something. I insist on having the matter put right.’ Matthew was furious. But he was on his dignity in front of the Scotchman, very much the Government Official before the paid employee of a shipping company. ‘It’s a disgrace to the line.’ He stared hotly at the other man. ‘I demand to be given proper accommodation!’

As Matthew became angrier and more official, Anna became more and more uncomfortable. The Scotchman sat behind his table, secure, with the smirking, unpleasant smile on his red face.

‘Don’t you hear what I say?’ Matthew exploded, beginning to bluster.

But the other only sat there, as it were behind the security of his position, and looked back at Matthew with the insolent smile on his face and a nasty glint in his eye.

‘I won’t stand it!’ Matthew’s hands were jerking dangerously.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to,’ came from the Scotchman.

Anna watched the two men: Matthew, whose ungovernable rages she knew and despised: the other, whose bossiness was stronger than his anger, and his caution stronger still. She realized that the Scotchman was more dangerous than Matthew. He was sure of his backing. And though he might have the devil’s own temper, he would never lose sight of caution. Whereas Matthew’s rages were incontinence, pure and simple.

She took hold of his sleeve.

‘Come along,’ she said, in her cold way, that subdued him. ‘It’s no good arguing.’ And she walked him off, stiffly, feeling as though she had a vicious dog on the end of her chain.

For the moment she had him under control, all right. But her paramountcy was very precarious.

So Anna went to the cabin which she was sharing in the depths of the ship, near the ladies’ bathrooms, where it was dark and stuffy, with a hot curious smell of oil and steamy salt water. She was truly thankful to have been let off sharing a cabin with Matthew. It seemed as though the Lord were on her side in this respect.

She was getting used to scenes like this with Matthew. He seemed always to be making them. And she was always looking on, hiding her chilly discomfort under a disdainful front, and marching him off, if possible, before very much harm had been done. She felt rather ashamed of her association with him. And her nerves were very much on edge.

To calm herself, she pottered about in the cramped little cubicle, which was dismal in spite of the burning light, unpacking a few things and tidying her hair. Then up she went, through the tunnel-like passages, past groups of excited people, up to the crowded deck, and so into the light of day again.