lover, whom she could see indistinctly at his workbench by the conservatory. Charlie was with him. Edgar put his tools down when he saw her coming and wiped his hands on his corduroys. She had her basket, and in it gardening gloves and secateurs. He had picked broad beans and chard for her, and pulled a bunch of young carrots. She sat on the bench as he filled the basket.
“Mrs. Bain’s left something for you in the kitchen,” she said to Charlie.
“I’m too busy,” he said.
“In you go, darling. She made it specially.”
He frowned at her and she frowned back. “I’ll be back out in a minute,” he said to Edgar, and plodded off along the path.
“What’s wrong? Something’s happened. You’re upset.” He said it quietly, without looking at her.
She told him he was suspected of bringing alcohol into the hospital. She didn’t reproach him in any way, it didn’t occur to her.
“Don’t worry.”
“I do worry.”
She wandered to the apple tree. Through its branches she could see the perimeter wall. Wherever you stood on this side of the garden your view was defined by the Wall.
“What would I do if you were kept inside?”
She sat down beside him again. He took her fingers and brought them to his lips, turned her hand over and kissed the palm. But she wouldn’t be comforted.
“What would I do? I’d come down one morning and there’d be some other patient working here. I’d ask where you were and they’d say you weren’t on the working party anymore. That would be it, cut off, just severed, no chance to say anything at all. I’d never see you again.”
“It won’t happen,” he said, and continued kissing her palm, but she pulled her hand away.
“You don’t know them.”
“Oh yes I do.”
“Then you know they can do anything they want and nobody can tell them otherwise. You can’t. I can’t. That would just be it.”
“Will you come to the pavilion today?”
“I don’t know.”
She walked back and forth on the path. Edgar set his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and gazed at the ground. I believe I know what he was thinking. He was coming to a decision. Stella stood with her back to him, again staring up through the apple tree to the Wall beyond. She heard him abruptly get to his feet and murmur, “Charlie.” She picked up her basket and set off down the path toward the house.
She left the basket on the kitchen table and went upstairs. The house was empty. Brenda had taken the car to do some shopping. She threw herself onto the bed and lay there staring at the ceiling.
Ten minutes later she sat up. She was feeling under the bed for her shoes when she heard footsteps coming rapidly up the stairs.
“Charlie, is that you?”
It wasn’t Charlie. To her utter astonishment Edgar was standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing!” she whispered. “My mother-in-law is staying with us!”
She began to laugh. She imagined Brenda confronting Edgar in the middle of the morning on the upstairs landing as he emerged from the master bedroom, buttoning his trousers. Still laughing, she crossed the bedroom and closed the door.
She was amused that he came to her bedroom?
She was amused, horrified, excited. Risk excited her, I realized, situations of risk. He wasted no time, stripping his clothes off, the blue shirt and yellow corduroys, the patient’s uniform. She quickly slipped out of her own clothes. Just the thought of it: here he was in her home, in her bedroom, she was defiling the bed with him, though I don’t believe she was aware of the spike of aggression that drove the sex: she was dealing with Max that morning, as well as Edgar.
She lay there in his arms, their clothes in a heap on the floor at the end of the bed. By the clock on her bedside table it was ten to eleven. How desperately I must want to be caught, she thought, to do this, but the thought was not accompanied by any feeling of alarm, it was the calm and tranquil voice of truth. She said she
“Mrs. Bain’s left something for you in the kitchen,” she said to Charlie.
“I’m too busy,” he said.
“In you go, darling. She made it specially.”
He frowned at her and she frowned back. “I’ll be back out in a minute,” he said to Edgar, and plodded off along the path.
“What’s wrong? Something’s happened. You’re upset.” He said it quietly, without looking at her.
She told him he was suspected of bringing alcohol into the hospital. She didn’t reproach him in any way, it didn’t occur to her.
“Don’t worry.”
“I do worry.”
She wandered to the apple tree. Through its branches she could see the perimeter wall. Wherever you stood on this side of the garden your view was defined by the Wall.
“What would I do if you were kept inside?”
She sat down beside him again. He took her fingers and brought them to his lips, turned her hand over and kissed the palm. But she wouldn’t be comforted.
“What would I do? I’d come down one morning and there’d be some other patient working here. I’d ask where you were and they’d say you weren’t on the working party anymore. That would be it, cut off, just severed, no chance to say anything at all. I’d never see you again.”
“It won’t happen,” he said, and continued kissing her palm, but she pulled her hand away.
“You don’t know them.”
“Oh yes I do.”
“Then you know they can do anything they want and nobody can tell them otherwise. You can’t. I can’t. That would just be it.”
“Will you come to the pavilion today?”
“I don’t know.”
She walked back and forth on the path. Edgar set his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and gazed at the ground. I believe I know what he was thinking. He was coming to a decision. Stella stood with her back to him, again staring up through the apple tree to the Wall beyond. She heard him abruptly get to his feet and murmur, “Charlie.” She picked up her basket and set off down the path toward the house.
She left the basket on the kitchen table and went upstairs. The house was empty. Brenda had taken the car to do some shopping. She threw herself onto the bed and lay there staring at the ceiling.
Ten minutes later she sat up. She was feeling under the bed for her shoes when she heard footsteps coming rapidly up the stairs.
“Charlie, is that you?”
It wasn’t Charlie. To her utter astonishment Edgar was standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing!” she whispered. “My mother-in-law is staying with us!”
She began to laugh. She imagined Brenda confronting Edgar in the middle of the morning on the upstairs landing as he emerged from the master bedroom, buttoning his trousers. Still laughing, she crossed the bedroom and closed the door.
She was amused that he came to her bedroom?
She was amused, horrified, excited. Risk excited her, I realized, situations of risk. He wasted no time, stripping his clothes off, the blue shirt and yellow corduroys, the patient’s uniform. She quickly slipped out of her own clothes. Just the thought of it: here he was in her home, in her bedroom, she was defiling the bed with him, though I don’t believe she was aware of the spike of aggression that drove the sex: she was dealing with Max that morning, as well as Edgar.
She lay there in his arms, their clothes in a heap on the floor at the end of the bed. By the clock on her bedside table it was ten to eleven. How desperately I must want to be caught, she thought, to do this, but the thought was not accompanied by any feeling of alarm, it was the calm and tranquil voice of truth. She said she
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