The Heart of the Matter - Graham Greene [41]
3
The liner came in on a Saturday evening; from the bedroom window they could see its long grey form steal past the boom, beyond the palms. They watched it with a sinking of the heart - happiness is never really so welcome as changelessness - hand in hand they watched their separation anchor in the bay. ‘Well,’ Scobie said, ‘that means tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Darling,’ she said, ‘when this time is over, I’ll be good to you again. I just couldn’t stand this life any more.’
They could hear a clatter below stain as Ali, who had also been watching the sea, brought out the trunks and boxes. It was as if the house were tumbling down around them, and the vultures took off from the roof, rattling the corrugated-iron as though they felt the tremor in the walls. Scobie said, ‘While you are sorting your things upstairs, I’ll pack your books.’ It was as if they had been playing these last two weeks at infidelity, and now the process of divorce had them in its grasp: the division of one life into two: the sharing out of the sad spoils.
‘Shall I leave you this photograph, Ticki?’ He took a quick sideways glance at the first communion face and said, ‘No. You have it.’
‘I’ll leave you this one of us with the Ted Bromleys.’
‘Yes, leave that’ He watched her for a moment laying out her clothes and then he went downstairs. One by one he took out the books and wiped them with a cloth: the Oxford Verse, the Woolfs, the younger poets. Afterwards the shelves were almost empty: his own books took up so little room.
Next day they went to Mass together early. Kneeling together at the Communion rail they seemed to claim that this was not separation. He thought: I’ve prayed for peace and now I’m getting it. It’s terrible the way that prayer is answered. It had better be good, I’ve paid a high enough price for it As they walked back he said anxiously, ‘You are happy?’
‘Yes, Ticki, and you?’
‘I’m happy as long as you are happy.’
‘It will be all right when I’ve got on board and settled down. I expect I shall drink a bit tonight Why don’t you have someone in, Ticki?’
‘Oh, I prefer being alone.’
‘Write to me every week.’
‘Of course.’
‘And Ticki, you won’t be lazy about Mass? You’ll go when I’m not there?’
‘Of course.’
Wilson came up the road. His face shone with sweat and anxiety. He said, ‘Are you really off? Ali told me at the house that you are going on board this afternoon.’
‘She’s off,’ Scobie said. ‘You never told me it was close like this.’
‘I forgot,’ Louise said, ‘there was so much to do.’
‘I never thought you’d really go. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t run into Halifax at the agent’s.’
‘Oh well,’ Louise said, ‘you and Henry will have to keep an eye on each other.’
‘It’s incredible,’ Wilson said, kicking the dusty road. He hung there, between them and the house, not stirring to let them by. He said, ‘I don’t know a soul but you - and Harris of course.’
‘You’ll have to start making acquaintances,’ Louise said. ‘You’ll have to excuse us now. There’s so much to do.’
They walked round him because he didn’t move, and Scobie, looking back, gave him a kindly wave - he looked so lost and unprotected and out of place on the blistered road. ‘Poor Wilson,’ he said, ‘I think he’s in love with you.’
‘He thinks he is.’
‘It’s a good thing for him you are going. People like that become a nuisance in this climate. I’ll be kind to him while you are away.’
‘Ticki,’ she said, ‘I shouldn’t see too much of him. I wouldn’t trust him. There’s something phoney about him.’
‘He’s young and romantic.’
‘He’s too romantic. He tells lies. Why does he say he doesn’t know a soul?’
‘I don’t think he does.’
‘He knows the Commissioner. I saw him going up there the other night at dinner-time.’
‘It’s just a way of talking.’
Neither of them had any appetite for lunch, but the cook, who wanted to rise to the occasion, produced an enormous curry which filled a washing-basin in the middle of the table: round it were ranged (he many small dishes that went with it -the fried bananas, red peppers, ground nuts, paw paw,