Anna Kavan - Guilty

I was struck by the way the onlookers, losing all interest in me, turned back, like so many clockwork figures, to their respective queues as throughout the room the usual sluggish procedure went on again, as if it had never been, could never be, interrupted. For a moment this distracted me. By the time I’d realized I should have been thanking Ginger for his intervention, he was already hurrying back to his desk. I had to follow him through the crowd, pursuing him with my thanks under difficulties, unable to tell whether or not he was listening to what I said. Since he ignored me, I took my place at the end of the queue in front of his desk, automatically rubbing my arm, still sore from the attendant’s grasp.

When I arrived before him, I was astonished by the hostility with which I was greeted. ‘There’s never anything for you at weekends. Why can’t you keep away instead of coming here making trouble?’

He sounded so irritable that I hastily answered him, ‘I didn’t mean to make trouble for you . I only said people ought to complain to the higher authorities, and you told me yourself —’

‘We’re the ones who’ll have to suffer for it,’ he interrupted tartly, at the same time beginning to collect various objects from his desk and standing up, preparatory to departure.

‘Please don’t go yet!’ I exclaimed quickly, making a futile attempt to intercept him. ‘You surely can’t believe I’d be so ungrateful —’ But he was determined not to give me a hearing and walked off without even saying goodbye.

There was nothing left for me to do but go back to my flat, which I did, very much perplexed by the sudden change in someone who, up to now, had always been affable and obliging. His bad temper struck me as unreasonable. And it was certainly most unfortunate in view of the time that would have to elapse before I saw him again, as he was bound to retain an unfavourable impression of me till after the holiday, when it might be too late to eradicate it. There were other aspects of the incident that I found incomprehensible and disturbing. If he’d really believed I was inciting people against him, why had he come to my rescue? And what could he possibly have said to the attendant to make him drop my arm like a hot potato?

It was partly to rid my mind of these unanswerable questions, which continued to worry me the next day, that I set off for Carla’s home in the early afternoon, arriving at the bus terminus before the short winter daylight had come to an end. All my previous visits had been in the evening; I’d got only a vague impression of large houses standing in their own gardens. Now I was delighted by the openness of the scene, to which many tall trees gave an almost rural look. I felt as if I’d arrived in the country, and my pleasure made me realize how much I’d missed the wide landscape, the hills and valleys and woods which had always been my background before I came to the city, and how unsuccessful I’d been in making myself feel at home here.

Stimulated by the frosty, clear air and the glow of the setting sun upon snow-covered lawns and lanes, I decided to explore a little before going indoors, as Carla wouldn’t be expecting me yet. I forgot all about my cold as I hurried up a steep hill, hoping to reach a point where the houses gave way to open country before darkness fell. In this I was disappointed: I only managed to lose myself and hadn’t the faintest idea where I was when twilight deepened into dark. This was really awkward, as there wasn’t a soul about of whom I could inquire. I thought of asking at one of the houses, but they all stood far back from the road, the street lamps were few and far between, I could scarcely see the black roofs looming against the sky; and, far too tired to walk up one of the long drives, I kept on blindly, in a kind of blank stupor of weariness, arriving finally at Carla’s house completely worn out and in anything but the mood for a party.

She opened the door herself and must have noticed how exhausted I was, for she asked whether I’d like to rest in the library for a bit before meeting her mother and the official who was also to be their guest — the only one of the tenants to stay over the holiday. This I was very glad to do, grateful for the chance to recover in private, and, as soon as I was alone, stretched out on a sofa. But I could only relax for a few minutes, after which my usual anxiety again claimed me. The sofa was hard and the room too cold for comfort. Unable to hear a sound from the rest of the house, I soon started feeling aggrieved and neglected and wondering why I was left alone there so long. At the end of an interminable half-hour I got up and began to prowl around the room, keenly aware of Carla’s heartlessness in abandoning me, with my bad cold, in this freezing room. All of a sudden it became impossible to stay there any longer. I went out into the passage, somehow found my way through the strange house without encountering anyone, and arrived finally in the entrance hall where, ages ago as it seemed, I had hung my coat.

I don’t know what childish impulse made me hide behind it now when I caught sight of her through the open door of the dining-room, looking lovelier than I’d ever seen her in a dress of some silvery stuff, from which her bare arms and shoulders rose like a naiad’s from some moon-bright cascade. As if mesmerized by her cool beauty, I stood staring while she put the finishing touches to the table, where tall candelabra shed their calm light on a profusion of fruit and flowers, sparkling glass and silver and gem-like ornaments. This dazzling display of luxury contrasted most strangely with the cold desolate room I’d just left, renewing my sense of grievance. I was wondering how on earth she and her mother could afford such lavishness, when, as if in answer to my unspoken question, a third person appeared, crossed the hall without turning towards me and entered the dining-room with the confident step of a man on his own home ground.

I knew this must be the official I’d never met, a total stranger to me, of whose face I hadn’t caught a glimpse, whose name even was unknown to me. All I could see of him was his back, as he stood beside Carla; yet there seemed something familiar about that massive outline — so much so that I felt I’d have recognized him if he’d turned around. Occupied with this odd impression, I missed what he said and saw only Carla’s responsive glance of intimacy; the brilliant breathtaking loveliness of her face caused me a sharp pang as she lifted it to him, for I’d believed that uncovered beauty and intimate smile belonged to me alone. It was almost as cold in the hall as it had been in the library, yet I felt a curious hot shock of anger, as if I’d been robbed by this stranger, whose dark silhouette produced the effect of being slightly larger than life, as he now leaned towards her with a solicitude that confounded me still further by suggesting a deeper familiarity, as of figures not quite remembered but seen in the same pose long ago.

The mists of childhood beginning to thicken around me, I reluctantly groped my way back among ghosts and half memories. To the sharp pain and angry shock, the man had added something heavily ominous that belonged to the past; he himself seemed the core of some old dream that was almost nightmare — from which, I suddenly realized, it was necessary for me to escape immediately at all costs. Without a word, without another glance in the direction of the dining-room, I took my coat and fled.

At first, stumbling away from the big house in the icy dark, my only thought was to remove myself as quickly as possible and as far from the place where imperfectly recognized ghosts had confused and tormented me. Then, recovering quickly once I was alone, I got my bearings from the lights of the bus terminal. Luckily a bus was on the point of leaving, and, sitting among the empty seats, being carried towards my flat, I felt my normal equilibrium return.