John Banville - Long Lankin - Stories

She hacked a lump of bread from the loaf and slapped it down on the plate. He laughed, and grinding the cigarette under his heel he said:

— You were angry last night.

— Well, that was last night.

— Don’t shout.

— I’m not shouting.

She stood with her hands on her hips and glared at him, and with a shrug he turned away and looked again down the road. She said:

— Why do you sit here every morning staring like that?

— No reason.

— You’re waiting for someone to come with a message or something, aren’t you, so you’ll have an excuse to go away and leave me.

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes. Patiently he said:

— No, Anna, I’m not waiting for anything. I just like to sit here in the morning. It’s pleasant.

— While you sit here your life is going away and my life too. Why don’t you write? Wasting your time like that. You’re bored. You want to leave me.

— For the love of Christ, Anna.

He took her hands and pulled her down to sit in his lap. For a moment he gazed at her, watching the sun through the leaves set fire in her hair. She bit her lip, and he kissed her, pressing his mouth roughly on hers.

— Now, he said. I love you and I’m not going to leave you. Do you believe me?

She held him tightly and murmured in his ear:

— I believe you.

— Good. So let’s eat.

While she poured his coffee he fingered absently the bread on his plate, tearing the soft white flesh. She watched him from the corner of her eye and said:

— We could always go on, you know.

— What?

— We could go on somewhere else. I mean if you’re bored we could go, say, to Alexandria. You’re always saying you’d like to go to Alexandria.

With his lips pursed he looked at her a moment, his face empty, then he turned his eyes to the road that led down to the beach and the still sea. The light was changing now as the climbing sun burned away the morning’s mist, Delos was advancing and the farther islands were faintly visible. A small breeze came up from the bay and stirred the leaves of the olive tree.

— Why should I want to leave here? he murmured. It’s peaceful.

She nodded sadly and took one of his cigarettes. She said:

— Why did you change so much?

— Change? Did I change?

— When we left Ireland you were full of plans and things. The first few months you were happy.

— And now?

— I don’t know. You just sit around all day. You haven’t worked on your book in weeks. You don’t even talk any more. Sometimes I get frightened and I think that you don’t see the point of anything any longer.

She broke off and gave a small high-pitched laugh.

— Isn’t that ridiculous? she said, and sat very still, watching the smoke from her cigarette, waiting. He pushed the hair away from her forehead, and she looked at him, smiling awkwardly.

— It’s ridiculous, he said. I enjoy this life. You know it.

— Yes. But I mean all I meant was that maybe you’re bored here and maybe we could move on somewhere else. We haven’t even started to use the money from your award yet so there’s no problem there. I mean I … Ben, I don’t want to lose you, she finished weakly.

His patience at an end, he sighed and turned away from her. She looked down at the table where the shadows from the tree stirred on the wood. Soft sunlight touched the cups and plates, the bread and the small green grapes, extracting from each thing it touched a sense of the thing itself, a sense of the fragility of its existence. Then the leaves stirred, and the shadows changed, a new pattern formed, one that seemed held in place by a force from within the wood itself. Something came back to her of their life together, and she smiled. She turned to him to speak, beginning to laugh, when from behind them on the road came a voice:

— Good morning.

They turned. On the broken pillar of the gate a woman leaned, smiling at them. Neither answered her, and the woman said:

— Can you help me? I am looking for someone.

She was dressed in a black faded shirt and black trousers. Her hair, long and straight, hung down about a narrow, bony face. Her mouth was small, and painted an ugly red. The flesh of her face was burned and dry from long years under this southern sun. On the bridge of her nose a pale spot glowed where the skin was stretched tight over the bone. Her eyes were large and black.

Ben stood up uncertainly and took a step toward her, halted. He said:

— Who is it you’re looking for?

The woman pushed a lank strand of hair away from her face with long, delicate fingers.

— A man, she said. He must have passed this way.

— We’ve seen no one. Anna spoke abruptly, and her eyes widened as though she had surprised herself. The woman glanced at her without interest and went on:

— They said in the village he came this way. Is there another road to the beach down there?

— No, Ben said. This is the only way and no one passed this morning.

The woman gazed at him, shading her eyes against the light.

— You could not miss him, she said. He is a dark man. A negro. Very tall with a red shirt open so at the neck.

Ben said nothing, and the woman’s eyes grew troubled and wandered over the road down to the bay.

— I must find him, she murmured. He is … how would you say? His mind is gone. This morning in the village he attacked a man and almost killed him with a wine bottle. I am worried.

Ben was staring at her intently, his mouth moving. Anna stood up and went to his side. In the silence there was the sharp, clicking sound of lizards scrabbling over the rocks. From below the hill the turkeys sent up their derisive accusations. Anna’s fists were clenched, and she said loudly:

— We’ve seen no one.

The woman turned back to them.

— You have seen no one?

— No, Anna answered her.

The woman nodded.

— Yes, she said vaguely, and then abruptly turned and started down the hill. Ben watched her go, his forehead wrinkled, and Anna pulled at his sleeve.

— Come and finish your breakfast, she said.

He did not move, and she turned away from him. On the table the wreckage of their meal lay like the dismembered parts of a complex toy.

— Will we go down for a swim? she asked, and not waiting for a reply she went into the cottage and brought out her swimsuit.

The beach was deserted. With his eyes closed he lay on the sand while she threw her awkward body about in the clear green waters. Then she came out and stood by him, tossing the water from her hair.

— I’m going to dress, she said, and went away.

After a little time he stood up and followed her into the pine grove. Here the air was cool and dim, and fragrant with the perfume of the trees. In the clearing behind the taverna he found her, standing naked with a red towel in her hands. Silver flecks of water glistened on her sun-browned skin. He stood behind a tree and watched her, pulling at his lip with a thumb and forefinger. When he stepped into the clearing she looked up quickly, and then smiled and held the towel before her.

— Go away, she said, laughing.

But without a word he caught the towel and pulled it away from her, and taking her in his arms he drew her roughly against him. She struggled, not laughing now.

— Ben, leave me alone. Ben!

She pushed him away and stepped back a pace, and he stumbled on the exposed root of a tree and fell.

— Leave me alone , Ben.

She stood there against the trees, breathing heavily, her eyes flashing. With her mouth open to speak she suddenly stiffened, and stared past him. He turned quickly, lifting himself on his hands, in time to glimpse something flitting through the trees, a dark figure moving swiftly, silently away. He slowly turned his head and grinned at her. From far off in the trees came the sound of someone calling once, and then silence. Anna stood very still, watching him, then she quickly pulled on her clothes and went past him where he lay watching her with cold amusement.