A Woman Involved. John Davis Gordon

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A Woman Involved - John Davis Gordon


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arms, and she put her arms tight around his neck, and they kissed each other, mouths crushed together, and oh, God, God the sweet taste of her again, the glorious feel of her body against him again, the warmth, and she clawed him tight and cried: ‘Oh why didn’t you come back five years ago?’ – and he did not care about any of that, all he cared about was now, now, and his hand went joyfully to her breast and, oh, the wonderful feel of her, and she kissed him fiercely and then broke the embrace.

      She backed out of his arms, her hair awry, her face smouldering. He stepped after her, recklessly happy, to take her in his arms again, possess her, to carry her off and she held up her hand to stop him. ‘I didn’t mean this to happen …’

      She turned away and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Wow …’ she breathed, ‘Oh boy …’ She walked to the window shakily; then she turned to him. She said ardently:

      ‘Of course I want to make love to you! With all my heart! But I’m not going to … I came to tell you …’ She stopped, then shook her head. ‘I came to see you – I had to just see you again. And then tell you that you had to go away …’

      He was deliciously happy. ‘You love me.’

      She tried to say it seriously, but she could not help grinning. ‘Do I? Or am I only in love with that magic memory of you – those wonderful days? …’

      ‘You love me.’

      She closed her eyes. ‘I’m married, Jack. For better or worse …’

      He said relentlessly, ‘The magic is still there.’

      She ran her hand through her hair again and turned away.

      ‘And I want to keep it as magic, Jack. To be cherished …’ She turned back to him, then held out her hand to him: ‘Come,’ she appealed. ‘Walk with me. Openly, for all the world to see. Along the beach, in the sunshine. And tell me all about your wonderful life. Talk to me … Let me feast upon your story. So I can take it away with me …’

      He held out a happy finger at her: ‘No more Summa in Theological …

      They burst out laughing. It seemed the most tragically hilarious thing to say.

      And oh he was in love!

      They walked out into the dappled sunshine of the garden, walking on air, out onto the long white beach, oh so happy. He wanted to remember every detail, each step beside her, each glance, each laugh, each word; they talked constantly, laughy, seriously, urgently, and he wanted to throw his arms wide to the sky and rejoice – He was here, back in paradise, and she was with him, just like in the dreams! And he knew with absolute certainty that it was nonsense that he was never going to see her again – she was his and this was just the beginning! And he wanted to fling his arms around her and laugh into her beautiful face that this business of her Catholic vows was absolute nonsense because she was going to be married to him every day for the rest of her beautiful life! She said, pacing along beside him, her hands locked behind her back:

      ‘I went to one of the best psychiatrists in New York. I said to him: I only want to ask you one question: “What does it mean when you keep dreaming repeatedly about one man?” And he said to me: “Tell me about him?”‘ She shot him a laughing glance. ‘So I told him. And he said: “Well, clear as day, you’re in love with this paragon of virtue. Describe these dreams,” he said. So I did. And do you know what he said?’

      ‘What?’ He was grinning.

      ‘He said: Correction: You don’t love this man – you’re obsessed by him!’ She flung her arms wide: ‘Obsessed!

      And Morgan laughed and made to grab her and she skipped aside: ‘And I said, “So what the hell does one do about such an obsession, Doctor?”’ She was walking backwards in front of him: ‘He said: “It depends on how you look at it, Mrs Hapsburg … To sensible people it is just a romantic memory which they get into perspective … ”’

      And he tried to grab her again. ‘But to other lucky people?’

      ‘“To other unlucky people – it seems better than real life! Because it is unspoilt by life. But they’re unlucky because dreams never come true and if they’re not careful it can screw up their lives” –’

      ‘But ours are going to come true!’

      She walked backwards in front of him, the laughter suddenly gone out of her eyes.

      ‘No, darling Jack. Please believe me. But, yes, we are lucky, because we can cherish our dreams – they will stay with us forever …’

      And he wanted to laugh and holler, ‘Bullshit, Anna Valentine! …’

      She shook her head firmly as she paced beside him.

      ‘Please don’t ask me that. I want to talk about you.’

      He said, ‘I have a right to know.’

      ‘Do you? For better or worse, Jack. That’s what the preacher-man said.’

      He knew it was nonsense. ‘You also made a vow to me.’

      ‘Yes, I did. And I’m truly sorry.’

      ‘Because you still love me,’ he said.

      She looked at the horizon, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘You are entitled only to know what happened five years ago.’

      This was very important information but he cared about Now, not five years ago. She breathed deep and said:

      ‘I was a coward …’ She paced, formulating it. ‘You were so clever. So well-read, and … learned. And so damn … funny. You had done so much with your life. And we had such an intense, crazy time together. It seemed as if I had packed everything I had ever learned, and felt, into those three glorious months. All my worldly experience had been paraded and brought into service. And so when you were gone back to sea, and all the chips were down, and the pressure was mounting … I became afraid that when you came back you’d find that you’d burnt me out. That I had nothing new to offer you – that I wasn’t the soulmate you’d thought I was … And then you wouldn’t love me any more.’

      Morgan was truly amazed. And he did not believe her. She was one of the strongest-willed persons he had known. And she had spoken as if rehearsed. And as for him being more learned than her – they had had countless discussions about everything under the sun.

      ‘Bullshit, Anna.’

      She said resolutely: ‘And Max didn’t demand anything like that from me, you see. And I had known him for years – I was safe with Max. He’s very clever but he was no intellectual.’

      He did not believe for one moment that she would have married Max or anybody for those reasons. Something else had happened. ‘Nor was I an intellectual.’

      She insisted, ‘You were. Master of Science. Only twenty-nine years old and already second-in-command of one of Her Majesty’s submarines! Oh, that was a pretty tough act for poor Max to follow.’ She half-laughed. ‘And when I wrote and told him I was in love with you, he had the nerve to write back and say that it would not last because submariners are notoriously dull people.’

      He knew she was trying to get away from the question. ‘Well, maybe he was right.’

      ‘Dull? God, anything but dull! You were the funniest man alive! You made me laugh! And all that derring-do submarine stuff?’ She smiled, and her eyes smarted a moment. ‘Even Dad slapped Max down on that one. Dad didn’t want me to marry you, either, but he said to Max: “I’ll have you know that every submariner is an extremely likeable and absolutely first-class fella! He has to be – you can’t afford to have a


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