"Think But This, And All Is Mended"

37

“Think But This, And All Is Mended”

    The plane arrived at two o’clock, New Zealand time. By the time they’d reacquired their luggage and gone through Customs and struggled out to Derry’s waiting limo, it was three-thirty. The traffic was heavy going into town and much heavier in town: it was four-thirty by the time Derry’s luggage was unloaded at his hotel and Derry was urging Adam to come upstairs and phone Georgy from his suite.

    “No, I— Oh, Hell; I’d better let Ma and Pa know I’ve arrived, I suppose.” He followed Derry upstairs.

    In the living-room of the suite Roddy was working on a storyboard. Adam looked at it with some foreboding but it was only the opening shots. He agreed that “By William Shakespeare” would look good over the view of the ersatz concrete Parthenon that was the Auckland War Memorial Museum on its hill. Roddy replied huffily that large sections of the museum were marble. Adam sniggered and went over to the phone. Roddy rolled his eyes in frantic enquiry at Derry, but he merely scowled and said: “Where’s the fucking waterfall?”

    “There is no way—”

    “I want it. Do it.”

    Roddy rolled his eyes again.

    Scowling, Derry told Adam what to dial to get the operator. Adam dialled. “I’ve found a possible Bottom, by the way,” he said.

    Derry opened his mouth to reply but Adam was now asking the switchboard for the number.

    “Hullo, Ma, thank God it’s you,” he said. “What sort of mood is he in?”

    “Foul, of course. Well, nerves, I suppose,” admitted Melinda. “He is very like you in many ways, dear. Where are you, Adam?”

    “Er—Auckland, actually: Derry’s hotel. He’s sending me up in the limo: I suppose it’ll take about an hour.”

    “Yes. Um,” said Melinda uneasily, “perhaps—”

    “What?” said Adam sharply.

    “Well, I’m sorry, Adam, but we can’t put them off now, so I think I’d better warn you that we’ve got Evan and Maurie coming to dinner this evening.”

    “Plus spouses—right?” he said grimly.

    “Of course.”

    “In that case, count me out.”

    “Adam, that’s very rude.”

    “Look, Melinda, at a pinch I might take Evan, he’s blah enough, and I could even take Maurie unless he’s in one of his bloody bullying moods, but my sainted aunts-in-law are the last bloody straw. Why in God’s name don’t you socialize with a few people of a modicum of intelligence?”

    Melinda replied with utter calm: “We haven’t found many of your father’s generation that are, apart from John Mackay—little Elspeth’s grandfather. Those that once were moderately bright seem to have let it grow fungus exponentially with each grandchild. –That’s his theory, of course!” she added hurriedly.

    Adam replied with a smile in his voice: “No need to spell it out, darling Ma. Well, what shall I do? Nip up there, dump the bags and disappear, or not appear until tomorrow morning?”

    Derry said eagerly at this point: “Stay here: we could discuss the rôle, Adam, and you could ring Geo—”

    “Shut up. –Well, Ma?”

    “Well, you know what this country’s like, Adam: we invited them for sixish but knowing Suzanne, she’s quite capable of turning up at five-thirty. It might be better if you did stay with Derry. –Oh, and remember to take something out of your case and hang it up for the wedding tomorrow.”

    “You think of everything, don’t you?” he said in huge admiration “Does it grow exponentially with the offspring’s acquiring of each tooth, darling?”

    “You can drop that. Have you rung Georgy?”

    “No.”

    This monosyllable was followed by a brief silence from Melinda’s end, and then she said: “I bumped into Polly Carrano down in Puriri this morning, actually, and evidently she took Georgy shopping yesterday for something to wear to it.”

    “Oh,” he said blankly. “Well, that was nice of her.”

    Melinda sighed. “Darling, she said Georgy seemed very—very crushed, was her word, I’m afraid.”

     Adam’s eyes filled with tears. “I see,” he said hoarsely.

    “Yes. Don’t just—just appear at the wedding without warning her, dear. I think it would be too impossibly cruel.”

    “Yes. I mean, no, I won’t.”

    “Good. Well— Well, let us know how it turns out, Adam.”

    There had been a distinct shake in her voice. Adam bit his lip. “I’ll try,” he said faintly.

    Melinda sighed. “Mm. I suppose we could always ring Derry. Well, bye-bye, dear.”

    “’Bye, Ma,” said Adam glumly.

    “Well?” said Derry as he hung up.

    “Nothing. –Well, if you must have it, she bumped into Polly Carrano this morning and she said Georgy was looking crushed.”

    “Go and do something about it, then,” said the great director instantly.

    “Ma doesn’t appear to have any great confidence that that’ll have the desired result.”

    He found that both Derry and Roddy were eyeing him tolerantly. “What?” he said weakly.

    “She isn’t in her twenties and besotted by your big blue eyes, Adam, darling,” explained Roddy kindly.

    “That puts it quite well, really,” conceded the great director.

    Adam made a face at them, but actually he was very much comforted by this simple, not to say simple-minded praise. Derry and Roddy were both aware of this: they continued to eye him tolerantly.

    “Well, um, I’d better get going and—and put it to the test, then!” he said with an attempt at an airy laugh.

    “Yes. –You’d better use the facilities,” said the great director simply.

    Adam replied cordially: “I’ve got a Ma who’s well on the job, I don’t need another, thanks,” and went into the bathroom.

    “Not half he bloody doesn’t,” noted Derry.

    “That was going to be my line!” said Roddy indignantly.

    “Shut up,” he said, grinning. “Have you worked that waterfall in, yet?”

    “No,” replied Roddy brazenly. “Too busy listening.”

    Derry strode over and scowled at the storyboard. “There,” he said, pointing.

    “Derry, I’m using these lovely horizontals, are you blind? All horizontals, well, touch of the slight verticals with Rangi-thingy, but all low and swooping, then final cut to your vertical ersatz Parthenon on its hill: a horrid vertical waterfall will utterly disrupt—”

    Derry began to shout at him. Roddy shouted back.

    When Adam came back they were still hard at it, so he simply went.

    The traffic was very heavy over the Harbour Bridge but cleared further up the northern motorway: they reached Willow Grove at around five-forty-five. Adam hadn’t really noticed it but the grey clouds and drizzle which had shrouded the city also cleared as they drove north. At Willow Grove the westering sun was bathing the concrete townhouses in a warm glow. As the limo let Adam out at the bottom of the drive, the Porsche that belonged to Number 3 drove in and pulled up outside Number 3 with a screech of brakes or tyres or whatever it was that screeched on Porsches and the owner jumped out, shouting angrily at a female companion. The female companion got out and shouted back.

    “Professional people,” murmured Adam to the limo driver.

    “Yeah,” he agreed, taking off the mirror sunglasses and suddenly appearing quite normal. “You want me to wait?”

    “Yes, you’d better, thanks.”

    “Righto,” said the limo driver, settling back in his seat and producing a crumpled magazine. –Cars, not girls.

    Adam went slowly up the drive, aware that he was taking such a detailed interest in all these minor matters in order not to let himself think. Or, as it were, chicken out.

    He was about level with Number 5 when the front door of Number 9 opened and a small female figure with a towel on its head came out and sat down in one of the rays of the westering sun that was striking through the gap between Mrs Mayhew’s and the two units at the top of the drive. Adam swallowed hard. He walked slowly up the drive, his heart pounding.

    He was about at Number 8’s steps when the small female figure removed the towel, to reveal a short black crop that certainly wasn’t Georgy’s.

    For a moment Adam felt he was going to pass out. Had she sublet the flat, then, or simply given up the lease, or—? Where had she gone? Surely Melinda would have said, if she was back at her mother’s? Very slowly he approached the foot of the steps.

    “Hullo,” said the young woman, going very red.

    “Hullo,” he replied weakly.

    Going redder than ever, the young woman said: “Georgy isn’t back yet. She shouldn’t be long, her last tutorial finishes at five and she usually gets a lift home on Fridays.”

     “I see,” he said limply. “You’re—you’re sharing the flat, then, are you?”

    “Not really,” she said shyly. “I’ve had my kitchen and bathroom floors done in cork tiles and I’m just here while the polyurethane’s drying.”

    “Oh,” said Adam blankly.

    “I was going home tomorrow!” she blurted, turning red all over again.

    “I see.”

    There was a short silence.

    “I’m sorry!” she gasped: “I’m Val Shipley.”

    “Georgy’s friend Val! Of course!” said Adam with a little laugh. “I kept urging her to have you round, but she wouldn’t! It’s lovely to meet you at last, Val!” He held out his hand.

    Val scrambled up, gulping, and shook it. “Um, come inside,” she said.

    “Would that be more or less of a shock for Georgy, do you think?” said Adam, trying to sound light and sophisticated and only sounding nervous.

    Val was also a nervous soul: naturally she was on Georgy’s side but she looked at him with some sympathy and said: “Well, about the same. But it would be less public, wouldn’t it?”

    Adam thought of Miss McLintock, and winced. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder, he felt he could feel the lady dachshund owner’s eyes boring into his back. “Yes. Let’s go in, then. –How is Manfred, by the way?” he added in doomed tones as they mounted the steps.

    Val gave a smothered giggle. “The same as usual! But Miss McLintock’s been very kind to Georgy. You know: taking her to the supermarkets and so forth.”

    “That’s nice. Um, what are these rumours about her going off to God-knows-where with students, Val?”

    Val turned red yet again. “Oh—that. Um, well, she went to Piha—um, I’m sorry: you don’t know— It’s where the surfies go!” she gasped.

    Adam’s jaw sagged. “Georgy?”

    “She didn’t surf, of course,” said Val weakly.

    “Er—no. Which student was idiot enough to take her there, dare I ask?”

    Val bit her lip. “Well, I don’t think she did enjoy it, actually,” she admitted. “Um, it was Nigel and the Hardy girls, do you know them? Phil and Pru.”

    “Oh, good God, yes!” he said with a laugh.

    “Um, and the Austin twins and—um—Stephen Berry,” said Val, swallowing.

    “I see,” said Adam grimly.

    “Ye—um, sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?”

    “Well, if it’s no bother, Val?”

    Val assured him she was going to make one anyway, she was on late shift tonight at “the PIPS library”, that was why she was home, and actually she was just going to have some tea, if he was hungry? Adam worked out that she meant dinner and looked at his watch. “Help. Um—I had a large breakfast on a plane somewhere over the Tasman, but I don’t honestly know how long ago that was. But I’m not hungry, thanks, Val. Just a cup of tea, if I may?”

    Val nodded and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

    Adam sagged onto Mrs Mayhew’s pinky-lilac velvet sofa. Hell. This was worse than anticlimax, it was... Well, whatever was the next but several down from anticlimax, he supposed glumly.

    They’d finished their cups of tea, in the agonized silence endemic to two hopelessly shy people, when there was a familiar scraping, fumbling noise at the front door.

    Val shot to her feet. “I’d better—” she gasped.

    Adam nodded, and she shot out to warn Georgy.

    “There’s a horrible great black car down the bottom of the drive: Derry’s not here, is he?” said Georgy, the moment Val opened the door.

    “No,” she gulped.

    “Thank goodness. I’ve been trying to explain the rotation of the English vowels since Anglo-Saxon all afternoon to a pack of semi-literate idiots that are only doing Option A,” said Georgy grimly but obscurely, “because they sort of think they might go on to English Two if they can’t think of anything easier to take; and that would have been the last straw. Ow! –My key’s stuck again,” she explained, sucking her finger.

    “Yes. Um—it’s not Derry,” said Val limply.

    “Good. Is it Charles?” said Georgy cautiously.

    “No. Um—it’s Adam,” said Val, very weakly indeed.

    There was a short silence.

    “Shall I go?” offered Val timidly. “The floors should be okay by now.”

    “What? No!” retorted Georgy angrily. “I’ve asked you to stay, and you’re staying!”

    At this Adam, clenching his fists so that the nails dug painfully into his palms, came to the sitting-room door and said hoarsely: “Hullo, Georgy.”

    “Hullo,” said Georgy, going very pink but staring him grimly in the eye. “I suppose you’ve come for Livia’s wedding. You can have the big bedroom, we can share the downstairs one. I’ve asked Val to stay and her floors’ll still be tacky and she’s got nowhere else to go.”

    “I could go to Caro’s,” said Val faintly.

    “No’“ returned Georgy, scowling. “They haven’t got a spare room. Well, they have, but it’s full of Charlie’s junk.”

    “Georgy, could we talk, do you think?” croaked Adam, licking his lips.

    “Yes—um—I was just going,” said Val hurriedly.

    “Wait on: have you had your tea?” demanded Georgy grimly.

    “Um, well—”

    “No, she hasn’t. You go ahead and have your tea, Val. Or whatever,” said Adam, suddenly smiling his nicest smile at her: “would make you feel most comfortable.”

    Georgy bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Val,” she said faintly. “You go.”

    “I can easily get something to eat in Puriri.”

    “Yes,” agreed Georgy.

    Val said uneasily: “Well, um—goodbye, then.”

    Georgy didn’t reply. Twitching slightly, Adam said limply: “Er—yes. Goodbye, Val. Nice to meet you, at long last.”

    Val gulped, said faintly: “Yes,” and shot down the passage, to disappear down the spiral staircase to the nether regions.

    “She hasn’t been sleeping in that tiny hole of a back bedroom, has she?” said Adam limply.

    “Yes. We put her stretcher in it: it’s okay.”

    He passed his hand through his hair. “I see.”

   There was a short silence.

    “Um—come into the sitting-room,” he said limply.

    They went into the sitting-room. Adam sank onto the sofa. Georgy sat nervously on the edge of the seat of an armchair, looking at him with an expectant but certainly not hopeful expression on her face.

    Adam passed his hand over his face.

    “You need a shave,” she said.

    “What? Oh,” he said dazedly, feeling his chin. “I was up around five. Only wouldn’t that be sevenish, your time?”

    “I don’t know.”

    “No. Georgy, I’m sorry,” said Adam in a very weak voice.

    Georgy swallowed loudly.

    “I don’t— I didn’t mean to… I know I must have put you through Hell,” he said.

     Georgy said nothing.

    “Um—that is, if you give a damn about me, and God knows I don’t deserve you should.”

    Georgy still said nothing.

    “Georgy, I haven’t come back for Livia’s wedding, I don’t give a damn about Livia’s bloody wedding, I’ve come to ask you to—to give me a second chance,” said Adam, his eyes filling with tears. “Will you?”

    Georgy’s hands twisted together on her denim knees. “How do you mean?” she  said awkwardly.

    “Uh—well, I mean live together. I mean,” he said, swallowing hard, “on a permanent basis, Georgy.”

    Georgy didn’t look ecstatic or anything like that, she just looked scared.

   Adam swallowed again. “Look, I know it’s probably too damn soon, but what I mean is, live together with a view to getting engaged and—and married. If you think you can stand me,” he ended hoarsely.

    Her hands twisted together and she said: “I don’t think I can, if you go all silent on me and—and pretend things aren’t happening.”

    Adam was very red. “No. I’m sorry, Georgy. I didn’t do it deliberately, God knows. I—I suppose I was terrified of commitment, or—or some such crap. I—I wasn’t even seeing you as a—a fellow human being, with feelings, or… I’m sorry,” he finished, swallowing hard.

    “Yes. Only what if you do it again? I don’t think I could stand it,” said Georgy in a small voice.

    “No. I—I can’t give you any guarantees, Georgy. I don’t know exactly why I acted like such a pig and—and I suppose it’s conceivable that I might do it again. Though once we were living together I—I can’t see what on earth could start me off!” he ended with a mad laugh.

    “Um, no,” she said uncertainly.

    He waited but she didn’t say anything more. “I’m sorry, Georgy. I don’t see that I can say anything further, except that I will try very hard. Like I said, I can’t give you any guarantees. I mean,” he said awkwardly: “there aren’t any guarantees in life, are there?”

    “No,” she agreed.

    “Will you?” he croaked.

    “Do you mean cuh-come to England and everything?”

    “Yes. I’ll give up that bloody flat. We could get a nice house. You could choose it,” said Adam, looking at her hopefully.

    Georgy went very red. “I don’t know anything about houses. Especially not in England.”

    “Nor do I. Couldn’t we combine our—our ignorance and ineptitude?” said Adam, trying for a light tone. His voice shook on the “ineptitude”; he looked at her miserably.

    Georgy’s hands moved nervously again and she said in a tiny voice: “What would I do, though?”

    Adam’s eyes filled with tears and he said: “Couldn’t you just agree to live in my house and love me, Georgy?”

    “I sort of can’t imagine it. I mean, I can’t make a picture in my head that seems real,” said Georgy in a low voice, blinking rapidly.

    Adam got up and came and knelt by her side. “No. I understand. I’m asking too much of you: is that it?” He put his hand over hers.

    “I don’t know,” said Georgy faintly. A tear slid down her cheek.

    Adam picked up one of her hands and put it to his mouth and said indistinctly against it: “Darling Georgy, I don’t know how to persuade you. I just know I love you, and need you terribly. Couldn’t you—couldn’t you take pity on me?”

    There was a long silence. Adam leaned his cheek on Georgy’s hand.

    Finally Georgy gulped and said: “Yes.”

    “What?” said Adam faintly.

    “I don’t think I’ll be any good at it, but I will if you want me to.”

    “You’ll marry me and—and everything?” he croaked.

    “Um—yes. If you still want to, after we’ve tried it out.”

    “I’ll still want to!” he said fervently, kissing her hand. “I’m afraid you may change your mind, though.”

    “No. I know I won’t,” said Georgy, very faint. “That’s why I—I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

    Adam bit his lip. “I see.”

    Georgy looked down at him timidly. “Don’t cry.”

    He cried into her hand for some time.

    Finally she put her other hand timidly on his head. He looked up and smiled shakily. “Have you got a hanky?”

    “What? Um—no,” said Georgy, feeling in her jeans pockets in a flustered way. “Um—there’s some of those fancy tissues of yours left—hang on!” She bounced up and ran into the bedroom.

    Adam was pretty shaken but he wasn’t entirely unnatural and he followed her into the bedroom.

    Georgy turned with the tissues in her hand to find he was just behind her. “Here,” she said limply.

    Adam blew his nose thoroughly on a bunch of “fancy” pale green tissues with a little flower print on them. “Could we go to bed?”

    She went very red and said: “It isn’t just the sex, is it?”

    “No. I was afraid it might be, but it isn’t.” He hesitated and then said: “I won’t deny the sex part of it is important to me, though. I—I tried once to explain to you that one can’t separate the physical from the emotional, do you remember?”

    “Yes.”

    He looked at her anxiously. “Do you agree?”

    “I suppose so. I sort of somehow can’t make it connect to you and me.”

    “No. It’s all a bit new and strange, isn’t it?”

     Georgy nodded dumbly.

    “I will try,” said Adam very softly, putting his hands at her waist.

    “Yes,” she said in a stunned voice, looking up at him obediently. He kissed her very gently and she shuddered, flung her arms round him and clung to him tightly.

    He was so relieved his knees actually went weak. “Come on, darling; I’ll try to be gentle,” he said softly.

    “Yes. You can do it without a condom,” she said, going very red. “I’ve just had my period.

    “Mm,” said Adam, stopping her mouth with his.

    By the time he’d got her clothes off her they were both trembling.

    “Why a bra?” he said numbly, hurling it to the floor after what seemed an aeon of fighting with the damned hooks.

    “I don’t know. I sort of didn’t dare, and—and I thought I might as well be all conformist.”

    “Mm. –Damn,” he muttered, hauling at the double straps on his white slacks.

    “Let me,” said Georgy. “You’re pulling them the wrong way.”

    He let her take the slacks and then the underpants off him: it was so good he damn nearly came. Then he lay, very gently, almost on top of her, shaking all over, and tried to kiss her very gently. But Georgy hugged him to her fiercely and he just sort of slid in, and she shrieked and put her knees up. He had time for one stroke before she shrieked again and shoved herself onto him, clenching like fury, and Adam let go and exploded and shouted and…

    “Phew,” he said about a million years later, as she lay with her head on his shoulder.

    “Simultaneous,” said Georgy thoughtfully.

    “The epitome of,” he agreed, grinning.

    “Help,” she said, swallowing.

    “Just don’t ask me how we did it or if we can manage to reconstruct it in every detail,” he said hurriedly.

    “You mean it wasn’t deliberate?” she said dubiously.

    “Eh? Was yours?” he croaked.

    “No. Oh, I see!” she said, blushing and laughing.

     “Mm.”

    “Even if it didn’t last for long, objectively speaking,” said Georgy thoughtfully, “it was better than anything.”

    “Yes. For God’s sake don’t analyse it, it’ll go away.”

    To his astonishment, at this Dr Harris tweaked him cheekily and said: “I thought it had gone away?”

    “Ooh!” he gasped, laughing helplessly. “Don’t! –My God, you made a joke about sex, Georgy,” he said, recovering somewhat. “And not only about sex, about the male member!”

    “Yes,” said Georgy, looking very pleased with herself.

    Adam laughed and kissed her gently.

    “Adam?”

    “Mm-mm?”

    “I know I’m an awful coward,” she said, swallowing, “but do you think you could tell Mum?”

    “About how to achieve a simultaneous orgasm? No; I thought I just indicated that I don’t understand it myself?”

    “No!” she choked, bashing his thigh. “Idiot!”

    He caught her hand and kissed it. “Mmm.”

    “About us. You know,” she said, very red.

    “About us what?” he said naughtily. “Um—going to England, I suppose,” said Georgy limply. “Living together.”

    “Getting engaged,” said Adam, kissing her hand again.

    “Mm!” she gulped.

    “Yes, I’ll tell her. In fact I’ll take considerable pleasure in telling her.”

    “Good. Thanks.”

    He relaxed on his pillows, smiling. “Talking of getting engaged, I wonder if M Abrams has still got that ring?” he said thoughtfully.

    “Who?” said Georgy blankly.

    “My favourite little antique shop dealer. –It’s the shop that’s little, Mr Abrams is of normal size,” he said hurriedly.

    Georgy gave him an indignant glare. “I wasn’t going to s—”

    “Not half ya weren’t,” he said rudely. “Uh—well, he specializes in Victoriana, and he usually has a lovely a selection of rings. Though I must admit that some of them are deliciously Betjeman-ish. I don’t think black jet surrounded with a tiny, neat plait of the deceased’s hair would appeal, would it?”

    “Ugh! No.”

    “No,” said Adam, grinning. “The one I have in mind is rather sweet: a heart-shaped moonstone, surrounded by diamond chips. Abrams swears the setting’s gold, so if it goes green we’ll sue him. –What, Georgy, darling?”

    Gulping, Georgy said very faintly: “You don’t really mean an engagement ring, do you?”

    “Yes, of course! –Oh, Hell: would you rather have something new, sweetheart? Nice big marquise diamond? Emeralds?”

    “No!” gasped Georgy in horror.

    “I know a moonstone’s only semi-precious, but this ring’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever—”

    “No!” she gulped. “I mean, of course it sounds pretty. At least, I’ve never seen a moonstone but Mum says they’re pretty. Um—no, I mean... Well, an engagement ring already?” she finished weakly.

    “This is real, you know,” said Adam, rolling onto his elbow and looking anxiously at her.

    “Yes,” said Georgy in a small voice. “I suppose it is.”

    “Well, shall I phone old Abrams, or not?”

    “Um... Well,” she said weakly, “what time is it there?”

    “No idea. –I know!” he said pleasedly. “I’ll phone Clem and he can get someone onto it!”

    Georgy watched numbly as he got up. “Yes, but Adam, it’s probably about seven in the morning, there.”

    Adam looked uncertainly at his watch, which oddly enough he’d omitted to remove. “Uh… twelve or thirteen hours time difference? Well, maybe I should wait.”

    “Yes,” she said fervently.

    “Only until we’ve had some dinner and it looks as if it might be nine-ish over there!” he said with a laugh, looking round for his dressing-gown.

    “Oh.”

    “Look, suster, do yew want thus engagemunt rung or not?” he snarled in an appalling simulacrum of the local vernacular.

    “You can’t do the accent. And I’ve never actually heard anyone call anyone ‘sister’,” said Georgy weakly. “Um—yes, I do, actually,” she admitted, going very red.

    Adam bent over her. He put a hand on either side of her and kissed her gently. “Mm-mm... Good. Darling, where’s my dressing-gown?”

    “You didn’t bring it with you, did you?” said Georgy blankly.

    “Er—oh. No. –Oh, my God! That poor bloody driver’s still at the bottom of the drive!” he gasped.

    “Help,” said Georgy feebly.

    Adam scrambled into his pants. “I hope to God Derry intends paying him for the trip, I haven’t got any New Zealand dollars. –Oy, Dr Harrus: shall I brung me traps un?” he said from the doorway.

    “You can’t do the ACCENT!” shouted Georgy, laughing. “Yes, bring them in. If you’ve brought them?”

    “I think I must have. I didn’t unload them at Derry’s hotel, so they must still be in the car. Hang on.”

    He disappeared.

    Georgy sank bank onto her pillow. She felt sort of dazed. But it wasn’t the horrid daze that had hung over her for the past month: it was a very nice daze indeed.

    After a while she began to smile. In fact she even descended to the idiotic level, no doubt well-known to such as Tanya from Hair 2000 or Vicki Austin, to name but two, of holding up her left hand and wondering how this moonstone heart would look...

    “Yeah,” said Adam snidely.

    To his delight she gasped, snatched her hand back, and shoved it under her bum.

    Adam was lugging two cases. He dumped them by the bed and sat down beside Georgy’s thighs, smiling. “Mm,” he said, burying his face in the bush.

     After a minute Georgy said in a shaken voice: “Oh, Adam!”

    “Yes,” said Adam, looking up at her, smiling. “You’ve missed that, have you?” She nodded dumbly and he said: “So have I, believe me! –Does that hand-admiring behaviour just then indicate you’ve descended to the level of common humanity, Dr Harris?” he added idly.

    Georgy gulped. “Yes, I suppose it does!” she admitted, laughing weakly.

    “Thank God for that!” He buried his face again for a moment and she gave a squeak. “Mmm. –Listen, dearest,” he said, looking up, “whatever fatuous argument bloody Derry might advance, don’t shave this, will you?”

    “No. Um, why should he?” said Georgy faintly.

    “Er—oh.” Adam made a face. “Well, I thought I might do the bloody Oberon for him, after all. I suppose I do owe him a fair bit. But I don’t fancy it without you as the Titania. Could you bear it?”

    She gulped guiltily,

    “NO!” shouted Adam. “It’s got nothing whatsoever to do with it!”

    “The suspicion never so much as crossed my mind,” she said weakly’

    “Not bloody half it didn’t! Darling, that’s—that’s fantastic. Grotesque,” he ended numbly.

    “Yes,” said Georgy weakly. “I’m awfully sorry, Adam. I know you never even wanted to do the part.”

    “No. It does sound as if—well, it’ll either be very pretty and a tremendous semi-popular hit, or totally disastrous. At the moment my money’s on the latter. Anyway, there’s no need to decide just yet.”

    “Only by tomorrow, I suppose?”

    “Tomorrow would do, yes.” He stroked her thighs, smiling. “I suppose there’s nothing to eat amidst the Conservative Horribles?”

    “Um—yes. Miss McLintock made me fill the freezer up with TV dinners. And Val brought over lots of lentils and things. She isn’t actually a vegetarian, only she’s keen on vegetarian food.”

    “Uh-huh. Do you know how to cook lentils, Georgy?”

    “No.”

    “Quite,” said Adam, grinning.

    “Um, Adam, what about your driver?”

     It was his bet that in two seconds she’d be proposing that they ask the man into their wee nest for the meal. “Apologised profusely—he had a flask of coffee as well as a couple of mags, thank God—and offered to ring The Blue Heron Restaurant and tell them to send the bill to me, but he said he’d stop at the Chinese in Brown’s Bay on his way back to town. Come on, let’s bung a couple of TV dinners in the microwave.”

    Georgy sat up. “Okay. –I know how to do chips, now,” she offered proudly.

    “Eh?” he croaked.

    “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Val taught me. She’s got a special pot and you use the—um—thingy. The heat-thingy. Then the oil won’t catch on fire.”

    Laughing, Adam let Georgy, of course swathed in her cabbagey housecoat, lead him out to the kitchen and put a hydrangea-y apron on him and feed him on microwaved lean-cuisine chicken accompanied by a mountain of chips done in Val’s special pot with its heat-thingy. Even though he had had chips only the night before.

    He didn’t even mention last night’s lot to her, either. Which a few of his ill-wishers might have conceded was some indication that he was beginning to learn to care about someone else’s feelings, at last.