Henry Green - Loving

'That's you men all over,' she went on.

'Her?' he protested. He had gone quite white. 'Why you're crackers. That two pennorth of French sweat rag?'

'Now you're being disgustin' dear.'

'I can't make you out,' he said coming towards her.

'No,' she cried, 'you stop where you are. I'm goin' to punish you. What d'you say if we took this for when we are married? How would I look eh Charley?' And she held that nightdress before her face.

'Punishment eh?' he laughed. If it had been a spell then he seemed to be out of it for the moment. That's all you girls think of. Why holy Moses,' he added as if trying to appear gay, 'that piece of cobweb ain't for us.'

'Don't you reckon I'd look nice in it then?' She lowered the nightdress till he could see she was pouting.

'You'd appear like a bloody tart,' he said, then broadly smiled. She stamped her foot.

'Don't you swear at me of all people Charley. '

'O. K.,' he said.

'Why,' she went on, returning to the charge, 'not above a minute or two ago you were puffin' like a grampus.'

'What's a grampus honey?' he asked and looked a bit daunted. 'Wouldn't you like to know?' she teased him. 'I can't make out why you want all this mystification,' he said. 'Honest you've got me so I'm anyhow.'

'An' so you should be Charley dearest.'

'Oh Edie,' he gasped moving forward. The room had grown immeasurably dark from the storm massed outside. Their two bodies flowed into one as he put his arms about her. The shape they made was crowned with his head, on top of a white sharp curved neck, dominating and cruel over the blur that was her mass of hair through which her lips sucked at him warm and heady.

'Edie,' he muttered breaking away only to drive his face down into hers once more. But he was pressing her back into a bow shape. 'Edie,' he called again.

With a violent shove and twist she pushed him off. As she wiped her mouth on the back of a hand she remarked as though wondering, 'You aren't like this first thing are you?'

This must have been a reference to the fact that when she called him with a cup of tea in the mornings he never kissed her then as he lay in bed. Or he must have understood it as such because, standing as he was like he had been drained of blood, he actually moaned.

'Why,' he said, 'that wouldn't be right.'

'Don't you love me in the early hours then?'

'Sweetheart,' he protested.

'With me carryin' you a cup of tea and all?'

'Well it's usually half cold at that,' he said, seeming to pull himself together.

'Oho,' she cried and began to do her hair with Mrs Jack's comb. 'Then I won't bring no more.'

'I'd been intending to speak to you about that very point,' he began shamefaced. 'I don't know that you should continue with the practice. It might lead to talk,' he said.

'Charley you don't say I'm not to,' she appealed and seemed really hurt. 'Why, don't you like me fetchin' your tea?'

'It's not that dear.'

She turned vast reproachful eyes on him.

'I was kidding myself you would fancy me above any other to open your eyes on first thing,' she repeated softly grumbling.

'It's the rest,' he moaned.

'Just because I'm keeping myself for you on our wedding night you reckon they'd think you're free with me?' she asked as though he had hit her.

'Well that's what would happen isn't it, being as they are?' he enquired.

'Oh Charley,' she went on gentle but reproachful, 'that's cowardly so it is?'

'You know I love you don't you?' he entreated and took hold of her hands. She was limp.

'Yes.'

'Well then,' he went on, 'we don't want no chitter chatter do we?'

'You mean no one shouldn't know in case you change your mind about our being married?' she asked. There was laughter now in her voice.

'What's comical in that when you've just spoken a lie?' he demanded.

'All right then I'll not bring your old tea again that's all.' She laid her arms round his neck and gave him a powerful kiss. Putting his hands against her shoulders he pushed her away.

'You said yourself we were on a good thing an' didn't want to lose this place,' he explained.

'I never imagined you could do without me pulling your curtains. So the first you set eyes on every new day should be me.'

'I love you that's why honey,' he said.

'O. K.,' she said, 'but you're to do the explainin' with Mother Burch mind.'

'That's a good girl. Holy smoke,' he exclaimed, 'an' there's my lad forgotten to lay their table I'll be bound. I'll be seeing you,' he said. He fairly stumbled out.

Some days later Mrs Jack unexpectedly entered the Blue Drawing Room to find her mother-in-law in tears beneath a vaulted roof painted to represent the evening sky at dusk. Mrs Tennant immediately turned her face away to hide her state. She was seated forlorn, plumb centre of this chamber, on an antique Gothic imitation of a hammock slung between four black marble columns and cunningly fashioned out of gold wire. But she had not concealed her tears in time. Mrs Jack saw. She went across at once.

'Why you poor thing,' she said rubbing the point of Mrs Ten-nant's shoulder with the palm of a hand.

'I'm sorry to make such a fool of myself Violet,' this older woman said from between gritted teeth and got out a handkerchief.

'I think you've been perfectly wonderful dear,' Mrs Jack suggested.

'Really I don't know how your generation bears it,' Mrs Tennant went on. She blew her nose while Mrs Jack stood ill at ease.

As she rubbed the shoulder of her husband's mother she was surrounded by milking stools, pails, clogs, the cow byre furniture all in gilded wood which was disposed around to create the most celebrated eighteenth-century folly in Eire that had still to be burned down.

'You've been absolutely magnificent Violet,' Mrs T. continued. 'Here he's been gone three days God knows where on active service if he hasn't already sailed. There's been not a whimper out of you once.'

'Don't,' his wife said sharp and gripped that shoulder in such a way as to hurt the older woman.

'No you must let me,' Mrs Tennant began again but calmer as though the pain was what she needed. 'It's so hard for my generation to talk to yours about the things one really feels. I never seem to have the chance to speak up over the great admiration I hold you in my dear.'

'You mustn't.'

Her mother-in-law ignored this though she must have recognized that it had been uttered in anguish. 'I grant you,' she went on, looking straight in front of her, 'your contemporaries have all got this amazing control of yourselves. Never showing I mean. So I just wanted to say once more if I never say it again. Violet dear I think you are perfectly wonderful and Jack's a very lucky man.'

Violet stood as if frozen. Mrs Tennant used her handkerchief.

'There,' Mrs T. said, 'I feel better for that. I'm sorry I've been such an idiot. Oh and Violet could you let go of me. You are hurting rather.'

'Good heavens,' the young woman exclaimed gazing at the impression her nails had made on Mrs Tennant's shirt and with trembling lips.

'It's my fault entirely Violet because I invaded your privacy,' Mrs Tennant said with a positive note of satisfaction in her voice. 'Oh your generation's hard,' she added.

'But he'll be all right you'll see,' Mrs Jack began, then did not seem able to go on while she smoothed the silk where her nails had dug in. 'He'll come back,' she said finally.

'Of course he will,' Mrs Tennant agreed at once, all of a sudden brisk with assurance. But under her breath with an agony of shame the younger woman was repeating I will write to Dermot and say my darling I must never see you again never in my life my darling.

'You must forgive me for just now Violet,' the older woman said not in the least apologetic.