Nicholas Mosley - A Garden of Trees

“He would remember.”

“I do not want him to remember.”

“Then he would have Annabelle,” I said.

“He would?”

“Yes.”

“You are too good to us,” she said again.

“No.”

“You are.”

“That is the only point of anything,” I said.

After a while I went to see Dr. Livingstone. He was a quiet, impressive man. “No,” he said, “she can’t get well.” He explained something technical. “If I had had her at first. . ” he said. “But she was abroad, wasn’t she? Are you a relative?”

“No,” I said. “Will she die then?”

“That is not for me to say,” he said.

“But will she?”

“She may do. The bullet may move and that would kill her. She is here under observation. I cannot operate.”

“Why can’t you operate?”

He explained. Again something technical.

“Might I get other advice?” I said.

“I have had other advice,” he said.

“Oh. And what about moving her — out of this place, I mean. Is that possible?”

“I have told all this to her husband,” he said.

“Yes?”

“She is paralysed all down one side of her body,” he said. “She is paralysed below the waist. She either cannot eat or will not. She is kept alive by drugs. She needs constant supervision. It would be madness to move her. I have told her husband this.”

“And is she in pain?” I said.

“We do all we can,” he said.

“Great pain?”

“Sometimes,” he said.

“And what would make the bullet move?” I said.

“Now look here. . ” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said; “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t know who you are, but I’ll tell you this. She is a very remarkable woman. I don’t know how she’s kept alive so long. She must have had something to live for or else by now she would have died.”

“Yes,” I said. “I think she has wanted to find something out.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “She never will see anyone except her husband.”

“No,” I said. “Thank you, doctor, for your help.”

“And I will tell you this too,” he said, “That when she wants to die she will die, and I don’t expect she will till then.”

“No,” I said. “Thank you, doctor. Thank you for your help.”

When I got back to her room she was sitting up in bed and was almost smiling. “Well,” she said, “did you like Dr. Livingstone?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And did he tell you that I could not get well?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I am so sorry about Annabelle,” she said.

“Oh God,” I said. I wanted to cry.

She went on quickly, “I should like a fruit tree, I think. And you must get a little can to water it with.”

“You could have an aquarium,” I said.

“Yes, that would remind me. I should like those fishes that are striped like silk.”

“You could grow sponges in the wash-basin,” I said.

“I am sure that would not be necessary. Marius used to dive for sponges and he got very deaf.”

“Did he really swim? Now he is so stately. I am sure I should laugh if I saw him swim.”

“What effect does he have on the others?”

“On Annabelle and Peter? They do not have much to do.”

“They may have one day, you know.”

“Yes,” I said.

“You have given me such a clever answer,” she said.

“Not an answer,” I said. “It is what we have to do now.”

“Why is it only after one has stopped thinking oneself important that one feels important at all?”

“That’s what’s funny,” I said. “There has to be someone else too.”

“And something else besides the someone else. Isn’t that what Marius said?”

“Marius talks so much he would have to have a committee to listen to him anyway.”

“Yes,” she said. She laughed. “What else shall we do to this room?”

“Perhaps pictures and a gramophone and we can all wear paper hats.”

“That is never funny. What about birds?”

“Birds will come when the tree is enormous.”

“Yes,” she said. Then: “There is something else that I should like you to bring.”

“What?” I said.

“No,” she said, “it doesn’t matter.”

“What?” I said.

“Never mind,” she said. “I think I can get it myself.” I did not know what she meant but I felt too tired to think.

“Marius told me to ask you whether he knows what love is,” I said.

“Is that what you asked him?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes. And do you know what you are?”

“No,” I said. “That is something that I think I shall never know.”

“Perhaps that is what I should tell you to ask Annabelle and what she need not answer.”

“Why not answer?”

“Because I have not answered, have I, but haven’t you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Both of us have. The whole lot I don’t know at all. What I am wondering is how to get an aquarium and a tree up those stairs without being arrested as a lunatic.”

“That is a more important question,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Perhaps if they thought you were a lunatic they would help you with them up the stairs and put you to bed with them and then we could both be lunatics together.”

“Yes,” I said.

“That is a very comforting thought,” she said.

When I left her I felt so tired and had such a headache that I forgot to ask her again what it was that she wanted and what she had not asked me for.

Outside I found that it was evening. There was an enormous moon on the roof tops that looked like a jellyfish. I was cold and rather feverish. The moon looked so heavy that I was sure it could never rise. I went round to Annabelle, and found her alone. “Do you know where Marius is?” I said.

“No,” she said. “He hasn’t been in all day.”

“I feel like a jellyfish,” I said.

“Have something to eat,” she said.

“No,” I said; “I don’t think I could have anything to eat.”

“Have something to drink,” she said.

“Yes,” I said; “I will have something to drink.”

“You don’t look like a jellyfish,” she said.

She brought me a large glass and filled it. She was wearing a velvet dress which changed colour as she moved.

“Did you go back?” she said.

“Yes, I went back.”

“And was it all right?”

“I hope it was all right. I think I must get drunk,” I said.

“Do,” she said. “What did Marius say?”

“We went in and Marius went out and I was alone with her and I got very excited and then I went out to find Marius. Can I have another drink?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Marius said what the hell and you said what the hell and then I said what the hell. This really is a very good drink.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And now she says what the hell too, and I have got to find an aquarium and a tree.”

“A tree?”

“A fruit tree, which is where it all started, I suppose, in a garden of trees.”

“I suppose it did,” she said.

“I never understood that story,” I said, “and I don’t understand it now.”

“That is where she and Marius started,” Annabelle said.

“Was it? Yes. Do you really think it is all what the hell?”

“No,” she said.

“No. But I mean, what is your responsibility?”

“To choose to do the best thing in every circumstance, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what’s best,” I said. She moved again, and the lights on velvet altered like shadows on a hill. “I don’t know how to know what’s best.”

“Your conscience, isn’t it, and what you are?”