Bruno’s Dream

22

Danby was walking down Kempsford Gardens. It was about ten o’clock on Sunday evening. The rain was pouring down, appearing suddenly in the lamplight, dense, sizzling, glittering like gramophone needles.

Danby walked in a state of abandon, his mackintosh unbuttoned, water soaking his hair and pouring down his neck. He had spent the day in a mounting frenzy, unable to eat, wanting to be sick and unable to be sick. He had been driven wild by missing Lisa’s last visit and he could scarcely hear the old man speaking so placidly about her without groaning. He had posted her two more letters. He had not seen Adelaide, the thought of whom’ now inspired both guilt and fear. He had felt relief at tapping on her door in vain. He had written her a note saying that he hoped she felt better, and later found it torn into small pieces on the stairs. In fact on both Saturday and Sunday, since Lisa had told Bruno she would not come, he had been absent almost all day, leaving early and returning late, wandering aimlessly about and spending every possible moment in the pubs. He was by now thoroughly drunk.

Sitting in the Six Bells in the King’s Road he had attempted to write a letter to Diana. He had written,

Dear Diana,

You will think me crazy but I am in love with your sister. I can’t explain this. It’s something absolute. Please forgive me for having played about. It wasn’t serious and it should not have happened. This other thing is serious.

Forgive me and forget me.

Danby

He stared at the letter for some time, making rings upon it with his glass. Then he tore it up. He could not write thus to Diana. It sounded too shabby. He could not ask her to forget him, that was simply silly. Then something even more important occurred to him. Supposing Miles saw the letter? Miles already thought ill enough of him without this further intimation of Danby’s tendency to play about, and what is more to do so with Miles’s own wife. With any luck Miles might never know about that episode. Miles doubtless regarded Lisa as his sister, and would be just as opposed to Danby’s suit in this context as he had been in the earlier one, and for the same reasons. And he’s quite right too, thought Danby, he’s quite right; but I do love her and somehow that makes all the difference.

Yet what was the difference? His love could hardly make Danby more eligible, more presentable, more sober. How could he ever make it plain that it had cured him of frivolity? If only Lisa had not seen him kissing Diana! But in truth the letter to Diana sounded shabby because the facts were shabby. In an agony of humility Danby surveyed himself as he walked through the windy rainy streets waiting for the evening pubs to open. His impertinence in loving this girl was fantastic. He had no attributes which could possibly interest her. He had remained absurdly vaguely confident of his ability to charm long after even his more vulgar attractions had begun to fade.

Because poor Adelaide had loved him he imagined that he could obtain all women by crooking his finger. He was an obese elderly man with white hair and a face coarsened by drink. He was ridiculous, he was pathetic, he stood no chance, his suit was meaningless, and by not admitting instant defeat he would merely prolong a useless agony.

Yet love has never for a second lent an ear to arguments of this kind, and Danby’s humility coexisted strangely with a lusty confidence. Danby could not but feel himself, especially after the evening pubs had been open for an hour or two, at the beginning of a wonderful and hopeful adventure. This sense of adventure, heightened by yet more drinks, had now led his feet in the direction of Kempsford Gardens.

Danby stood in the rain swaying slightly while he checked and rechecked the number of the house. There were no lights on in the front. They could hardly have gone to bed. He was a little vague about the time, but the pubs were still open so it could not be very late. He went up the steps to the door and laid his hand upon it. Now that he was actually here fear and emotion sobered him a little. What in the world did he think he was doing? He stooped down and peered cautiously through the letter box. There was a line of light somewhere ahead from a closed-in lighted room. Danby straightened up and began to stroke the smooth painted surface of the door. He lifted his hand but could not bring himself to touch the knocker.

He thought, I think I won’t try to talk to her after all. I’m too drunk. I would just disgust her, appearing like this. Be sides, there’s Miles and Diana. More deeply he thought: Let her have a little more time to reflect about me. I’ll wait until she has answered my letters. More deeply still he thought: As things are now I can still hope and imagine. If I see her she may kill hope. He turned away from the door. But the sense of her proximity arrested him magnetically like a jerked-upon rope. He would not talk to her. But he could not go away.

He stood a moment in puzzlement. If only he could see her without being seen.

The houses in Kempsford Gardens formed a terrace with no gaps between. Danby began to retrace his steps towards the Old Brompton Road. There must be some way round the back. He walked down beside some garages and surveyed the back of the terrace, scattered with lighted windows, curving away into the flickering rainy dark. The walled gardens ran down to meet their opposite numbers in Eardley Crescent. There was no pathway, there were no back gates. Danby gauged the height of the nearest wall. At the next moment he was on the top of it. As he felt just then he could have swarmed up the side of St. Paul’s. He slid rather muddily down, tramped across a dark garden and got himself up onto the next wall. He sat astride it for a moment. What was he supposed to be doing? Oh yes. But he ought to be counting the houses. He had lost count already. Somebody behind him opened a window and he fell down into some extremely thick and prickly foliage in the next garden. He pulled himself out, hearing his trousers ripping quietly. A long thorn seemed to be imbedded in the soft flesh of his thigh. He blundered clear and stood for a moment retrieving his sense of direction. Straight on, where an uncurtained window lighted a tract of green rain-beaten grass, another wall, or was it two walls, three walls.

An increasing amount of bricks and rubble seemed to be coming off the tops of the walls and weighing him down, lodged in his shoes and in his pockets. As he stumbled forward his leg came into contact with something which, as it keeled over and subsequently broke, he recognized to be a leering red-capped gnome. That couldn’t possibly be in Miles’s garden. Where was he? Panting now a little he negotiated the next wall, taking off from a stout branch of wisteria which cracked loudly under him. He was suddenly feeling very weak and tired and the St. Paul’s sensation had quite gone. There was a throbbing pain in his left knee, which he must have knocked rather badly without noticing it. He stood in the middle of the lawn, breathing deeply and trying by sundry jerks and wriggles to dislodge the thorn, which still seemed to be piercing the inside of his thigh. Then in the dim light from the next-door house he recognized the yew archway, the humpy mounds of small shrubs, and the gleaming expanse of wet pavement. The thorn came away.

The French window, outlined in light from within, was well curtained. Danby, who felt that up to a moment ago he must have been making a great deal of noise, moved forward as quietly as he could, stepping from the grass onto the pavement. The soles of his shoes seemed to stick to the wet pavement, from which they detached themselves with a soft sucking sound. But the steady hissing of the rain absorbed the little noise. The two sides of the window showed no chink, but there seemed to be a tiny gap left in the middle where the curtains just failed to meet. Danby’s questing hand touched the glass and he shuddered at its brittle feel and steadied himself on wide-apart legs. Leaning forward from the waist, his eyes trying to grow out of his head on stalks, he attempted to look through the gap. He took another cautious shuffle forward and now he could see into the room. It was a peaceful scene. Miles, Lisa, and Diana were all curled up with books. Miles and Diana sat in armchairs on either side of the fireplace, where a very small wood fire was burning. Lisa sat a little way back on the sofa, facing the window. Danby controlled his breathing and with a strong hand contained the acceleration of his already violently beating heart.

Miles, who had his back half turned to Danby, was raising his head from his book. He looked first at the bowed head of Diana and then at the bowed head of Lisa. As Diana began to raise her head Miles returned his attention to his book. Diana looked first at the bowed head of Miles and then at the bowed head of Lisa. As Lisa began to raise her head Diana returned her attention to her book. Lisa looked first at the bowed head of Diana and then at the bowed head of Miles. As Miles began to raise his head again Lisa returned her attention to her book. Profound silence reigned. Danby stared at Lisa. Her legs were half tucked under her and her heavy dark sweep of hair drooped down to brush the pages. She was wearing a sort of navy blue shift dress with a shirt collar and a green scarf tucked in at the neck. It occurred to Danby that it was the first time he had seen her without her brown mackintosh on. It was the first time he had seen one of her dresses. It was the first time he had seen the tension of her body inside her clothes, observed the silky sweep of her stockinged knees, contemplated her legs. She was wearing soft blue and green check bedroom slippers. Danby apprehended the curled weight of her body, the thrust of her breasts against the navy blue dress, the sleek stretched curve of the hip, the bony slimness of the ankle, and what it would be like to kneel down and very quietly take one of those soft-shod feet into his hand. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he realized that Diana was looking with a startled expression straight at the gap in the curtain.

Danby swung round and sidled quickly away from the window, trampling upon soft earth and springy wet vegetation. He stumbled back off the pavement onto grass, and with long quiet strides retreated down the garden. The yew hedge loomed up and he passed through the black space in the middle of it into the little enclosure between the hedge and the wall. He blundered through a heap of wet clinging stuff which might have been the remnants of a bonfire. Lighted windows of houses seemed to be all around him now, vague blank accusing eyes. A little diffused light showed him the wall, the outline of roofs and chimney pots and trees, the faint lines of the rain against the reddish-black London sky. He began to fumble at the wall. It seemed to have grown higher. He tried to pull himself up but his arms were as weak as putty and he fell violently back into the heap of sticky ash.

A figure materialized suddenly very close to him.

”Danby, is it you?”

”Diana!”

”Sssh. The others didn’t see you.”

”Diana, I’m terribly sorry-“

”Whisper, don’t shout! However did you get in here?”

”I came over the walls.”

”Well, you’d better go back over the walls!”

”Yes, of course, Diana. I was just trying to climb up when you arrived.”

”You are an absolute fool. You shouldn’t come here at night like this.”

”Diana, I’ve been meaning to write to you-“

”Thank God Miles didn’t see you. Now for God’s sake go quietly. Can’t you get up?”

”No, it’s a bit difficult. The thing is this, Diana, I meant to write-“

”Don’t write, you idiot. You can easily see me during the day. All you’ve got to do is telephone.”

”Diana, I want to explain-“

”I couldn’t think what had happened to you. I thought you’d got cold feet, or something. And now this!”

”Diana, I must-“

”Are you drunk?”

”Yes.”

”Well, get out. Darling Danby, I’m not really cross with you. All right. You suddenly felt desperate. You felt you had to see me. I quite understand. Only now for heaven’s sake go!”

”Diana, I-“

”I don’t want any fuss, Danby. Just go”

”All right. I just feel all weak. I can’t get up the damn wall.”

”You’d better have something to stand on. There’s a wooden box here somewhere. Wait a minute.”

”But how will I get out of the next door garden?”

”I don’t care a damn how you get out of the next door garden. I want you out of this garden.”

”Would you mind if I took the box with me?”

”Oh Danby! Here-“

”Sssh. Diana, I thought I heard someone moving just over there.”

”There’s no one. They didn’t see me coming out. Could you help me with the box?”

Danby leaned forward. He could see the harlequin arm of the wet mackintosh close to his. The box seemed to be half embedded in the earth. It came away with a squelching sound and a rattle of stones.

”Sssh!”

Danby fumbled the box and placed it on end against the wall. He began to mount. “Oh Danby, this is all so mad.”

”I’m afraid it’s madder than you know, my dear.”

”Do be careful. Don’t break your ankle, will you.”

”You’re getting soaking wet, Diana. Better go in. I’m all right now.”

”Where’s your hand?”

Danby stretched out his hand in the darkness and felt it gripped violently by Diana’s two hands. He returned the pressure and drew quickly away.

A bright light suddenly flashed in the archway of the hedge and focused upon Danby, who was in the act of lifting his leg to the top of the wall. “What on earth is going on here?” said Miles’s voice.

Diana stepped quickly back. Danby withdrew his leg, but remained standing on the box. He covered his eyes which were dazzled by the beam.

”What is this farce?” said Miles. “What the hell are you doing in my garden?”

Danby got down slowly off the box. “Would you mind not shining that torch in my face?”

The torch was lowered, revealing lines of raindrops, a circle of ragged grass, and a scattering of earth and bonfire ash. Danby could now make out the figure of Miles, very upright underneath a large black umbrella.

”I’m sorry,” said Danby.

”You haven’t answered my question,” said Miles. “What are you doing here?”

”I just wanted to see-“

”You mean you were spying?”

”No. You see, I hadn’t the nerve to knock on the door, so I got over the wall and-“

”Blasted bloody cheek, climbing on our wall, breaking down our roses!”

”And then Diana saw me and-“

”Where did Diana see you? What are you talking about?”

”He was looking in through the drawing-room window, through a chink in the curtain,” said Diana in a clear cool voice. She had retreated and was standing in darkness near to the other wall.

Miles swung the torch in her direction, revealing dark splashed stockings and muddy bedroom slippers.

”Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

”I wasn’t sure who it was.”

”You mean you went out by yourself to tackle an intruder?”

”Well, I mean I really knew it was Danby, but-“

”Everyone around here seems to have gone stark staring mad.”

”If you’ll excuse me,” said Danby, “I think I really must be going.” He climbed up again onto the box.

”Oh no you don’t. You’ll stay here until I’ve told you a thing or two.”

”I don’t feel in the mood for conversation,” said Danby. He began to lift his leg.

”You’re drunk, aren’t you.”

”Yes. Now I really must be getting along.”

”I know why you came here tonight.”

”Miles-“ said Diana.

Danby lowered his leg.

”Miles,” she said, “I think it would be better if we talked-“

Danby stepped heavily down off the box. He said, “Diana, don’t say anything. Everything will be clear later.”

”Yes, Diana, go away would you?” said Miles. “Go inside, please. And don’t say anything to Lisa. I’ll deal with this drunken lunatic.”

With a faint resigned gesture of farewell the harlequin mackintosh faded into the darkness. The torchlight made a bright circle on the ground between them. “I want to tell you something,” said Miles, “and I hope that you’ll have the decency to act upon it.”

”What?”

”You wanted to see her, didn’t you?”

Danby tried to assemble his mind. Who was Miles talking about? “Yes. No.”

”You’re fuddled. I’m not surprised you were ashamed to knock on the door.”

”I didn’t want to cause any trouble,” said Danby. “Not any-trouble.”

”Don’t worry, you can’t. Though I admit your nuisance value is high.”

”What do you mean I can’t?”

”Because you’re going to get out and stay out.”

”I wonder if we quite understand each other?” said Danby.

”I wanted to see Lisa.”

”I know. But you’re not going to. And you can stop pestering her with impertinent letters.”

”Christ! She didn’t show you my letters, did she?”

”No. But she said you’d written to her more than once.”

”Well, why the hell not? It’s not a crime to love somebody.

And why are you taking a high line about it? It isn’t quite your business is it? You aren’t her father. You aren’t even her brother. She’s a grown-up woman. She’s free.”

”She isn’t free. That’s the point.”

”What do you mean?”

”Her affections are engaged. She’s a committed person. She loves somebody else.”

Danby leaned back against the wall. The rain beat on his face and trickled quietly down his spine, cold at first, becoming warmer as it reached the middle of his back.

”Are you sure?”

”Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry to sound bloody-minded, but you ought to know this. So perhaps from now on you’ll keep away.”

Danby breathed deeply. He stared down at the lighted circle of soggy mauvish wood ash. “Look, Miles, I hear what you say. But I’m in love. I mean I can’t just take this from you-“

”In love!”

”Yes. Is Lisa actually engaged-?”

”Lisa is no concern of yours. Even if she were not already attached-she could have no conceivable interest in you. Your attentions merely cause her embarrassment. I trust they will now cease.”

”I don’t think you can order me about in this way, you know-“

”I know her mind on this subject. I am merely informing you of it. I presume this sort of drunken romping after girls is a pretty regular pastime for you. Well, you’ve made a mistake with Lisa. I suggest you move on to the next one.”

”I’m serious, damn you.”

”You’re tedious. And now you can go. Get off my land. Go the way you came.”

The circle of light on the ground wavered, then darted up wards and Danby covered his eyes against it. It sank again and was switched off, the outline of the umbrella was steady.

”Listen please-“

”There’s nothing more to say. I’m going in, once I’ve seen you over the wall.”

”Damn it, I’m not going to have you telling me what Lisa thinks. I’ll go on behaving as I think fit.”

”If you communicate with her any more you’ll be behaving like a cad.”

”She doesn’t need your protection! What’s it got to do with you, for Christ’s sake?”

”Miles, what is it?”

A dark figure was silhouetted in the archway and then faded as it moved closer to Miles against the gloom of the hedge. The rain had begun to sizzle with increased force. Danby spread out his hands and pressed the palms back violently against the hard uneven surface of the wall.

”Lisa!”

”Who is there, who are you talking to?”

”Danby.”

”Oh. I thought I heard a noise.”

”I’ve told him to go. Go back inside, would you, Lisa.”

”Wait a minute.”

A flurry of rain filled the silence with a sort of long sigh.

”Miles, I’d like to speak to Danby for a moment. Could you leave us?”

”Lisa, don’t be silly! He’s drunk.”

”Please, Miles.”

”The fool might do anything.”

”No, no-“

”Well, come inside then. There’s no point in getting soaked and talking in the dark.”

”No, here. You go, Miles. I won’t be more than a moment. Please.”

”You’ll get all wet. And I don’t at all like leaving you.”

”Just one minute, Miles.”

”Oh, all right. I’ll go back to the terrace. Call if you want me. Here, take the umbrella and the torch.”

”I don’t want the umbrella and the torch. Just go, just for one minute.” Miles walked heavily away through the archway, dipping the umbrella, and his feet could be heard stamping across the grass.

Danby let go of the wall and lurched forward. Then he half fell half threw himself on his knees in the wet sticky hillock of earth and ash. “Oh Lisa, Lisa-“

”Get up please. Why did you come here?”

”I wanted to see you. I looked through the window. Oh Christ-“

”Are you very drunk?”

”No.”

”Get up then.”

”Lisa, I want to tell you it’s serious, it’s terrible, it’s absolute.”

”I’m sorry-“

”Lisa, Miles said you loved somebody. He said you were engaged.”

”Oh God-“

”It’s true then?”

”Yes, it’s true,” she said, after a moment’s silence. Danby rose slowly to his feet. It was difficult to get up. His knee was extremely painful. He said in a dull voice, “I shall hope all the same.”

”Don’t. I just wanted to thank you for your letters. I am grateful to you. And God knows I don’t want to hurt you. But please try not to think of me in that way. I have nothing for you and it’s just no good. Please believe this. I don’t want you to waste your time on something quite fruitless. It’s absolutely no good.”

”Don’t say any more,” he said, raising his voice, “don’t say any more. Forgive me.”

”Come through the house. There’s no need to-“

Danby was already on top of the wall. How he got through the intervening gardens he could not afterwards remember. Perhaps he flew. Someone shouted after him. It was not Lisa. He fell off the last wall into the lane beside the garages, stumbling and falling. He blundered into a garage door and came down heavily onto the ground. He crawled, got up, emerged onto the wet lamp-lighted pavement.

He stood for a while in the rainy murk between two lamp posts, vague and dazed, swaying a little on his feet and looking back down Kempsford Gardens. Then he set off slowly in the direction of the Old Brompton Road. He paused once more and looked back. Then he began to look more intently. A dark figure had emerged after him from the side laneway and was now gliding away quietly in the opposite direction towards Warwick Road. Danby stared hard through the lines of rain. There was something familiar about the slim form and the gliding gait.

Danby started to walk quickly back. The figure quickened its pace. Danby began to run. The figure ran. Danby ran harder. He caught it up just short of Warwick Road underneath a lamppost and grabbed it firmly by the collar.

”Nigel!” Nigel twisted and struggled and squirmed but Danby held him fast. “Nigel, you swine, you spy! You were there in that garden!”

”You’re choking me, let go!”

”Were you there in that garden?”

”Yes, yes, stop it, stop it-“

”You heard it all!”

”You’re killing me.”

”You bloody spy!”

”Please, please, please-“

Danby shook the limp and now unresisting figure violently to and fro and then hurled it away from him. Nigel staggered, slithered on the wet slippery pavement, and fell, the side of his head meeting the lamppost with an audible crack. He lay still. Danby, who had started to walk away, paused a moment until he had seen Nigel stir and begin to get up. Danby turned again and faced the force of the rain and the wind, walking unsteadily in the middle of the road.