The Angel in the Corner - Monica Dickens [132]
It was early in the evening. There were only two other people in the bar, talking at a table by the window. Virginia and Felix were left facing each other, trying to think what to say. ‘Do you want a gin and french?’ Virginia asked.
‘Pretty good memory.’ His crooked smile was more natural this time, and a little rueful. ‘I’m glad there’s one thing you haven’t forgotten about me.’
‘I haven’t forgotten anything about you.’ Virginia made her words brisk, because with Joe across the passage, she did not like the sentiment in Felix’s voice. ‘It’s good to see you again. I thought I might, because I knew you had a consulting-room somewhere round here.’
‘I don’t go to pubs much,’ Felix said, watching her while she mixed his drink. ‘I only came in tonight because Chris wanted to. Lucky chance for me, but perhaps’ – how well she remembered that hopeful, humble look – ‘perhaps you’d rather I didn’t come in again.’
‘Heavens, no, why shouldn’t you? What difference does it make? I’m married.’
‘You don’t have to rub it in.’
‘Do you mind?’ Virginia felt a little irritated. He had no right to mind. Just because he had once wanted to marry her, he could not expect her not to marry anyone else.
‘Of course I mind. What do you expect? Do you think that when I went away from the mews and we agreed not to meet that I ever forgot about you for one minute? I’m sorry, Virginia. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.’
‘There you go again,’ Virginia said, trying to relieve the situation with a shaky joke, ‘apologizing. Remember how I used to jump on you for apologizing before you’d ever said anything?’
‘Yes. You didn’t like that.’ He smiled, and looked more at ease. ‘I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry I said I was sorry. You still don’t like it. You haven’t changed at all.’
‘Yes, I have. I’m quite different. Let me get you another drink.’ He had finished the first one quickly, drinking it in nervous sips. ‘Here, have this one on the house.’
‘It sounds so funny to hear you say that. I can’t get used to you on that side of the bar.’
‘I’m used to it. We’ve been here some time. I like to work in the bar. It gives me something to do.’ Something to pass the time. Opening and closing hours to mark the passage of the day. People to talk to automatically, talking without thought, scarcely hearing what they said, or what she said to them, managing somehow to talk normally, and even to make jokes, to keep the misery that pressed always at the back of her brain from crowding forward and engulfing her.
‘What’s the matter?’ Felix asked quietly, looking at her over his glass. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Of course not.’ She was afraid of succumbing to the sympathy in his voice. ‘Why should there be?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘if you don’t want to talk about it.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ Virginia turned away to serve the man who came over with two glasses from the table by the window.
When he had gone, Felix said: ‘Even if I weren’t a doctor, I know you well enough to tell that you’re in pretty poor shape. You’re still lovely, Virginia. You’ll always be that to me, but I’m not so blind that I can’t see how bad you look.’
‘Thanks. That’s very flattering.’
‘Don’t take it that way. I said you were lovely, though I probably shouldn’t, with your husband in the next room.’ He glanced behind him, as if he expected to see an irate husband come storming in with his sleeves rolled up. ‘But lovely or not, you’re ill, my dear.’
‘No. I’m not sleeping very well just now, that’s all.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t cross-examine me. I’m not in your consulting-room.’ But suddenly, it seemed as if she were, and as if Felix were more a doctor than a rejected suitor. He was looking at her with his head lowered and