The Case of William Smith

Chapter Fifteen

Late that evening the telephone bell rang in Katharine’s flat. William had gone. The noises in the Mews had for the most part died down. One persistent radio still discoursed dance music at a penetrating pitch, and now and again a car came home to one of the old stables turned garage, but most of the daytime noises had ceased. Even if they had not, Katharine would not have noticed them. During these days she was withdrawn from a harsh external world into her own place of happiness and peace. The telephone bell surprised her, because no one knew she was here. The bank or the post office sent on her letters, but she had not given her address to anyone at all. Of course it might be someone ringing up Carol-

She went over to the writing-table, lifted the receiver, and it was Brett Eversley.

‘Katharine – ’

She was both surprised and angry. She had refused him in as definite terms as a woman can use, and she had refused to give him her address. By what means he had discovered it, she had no idea. It wasn’t until her name had been repeated that she spoke.

‘What is it, Brett?’

‘Have I dragged you out of bed? That’s what you sound like.’

‘No.’

‘Katharine, you’re angry.’

‘Yes.’

‘With me?’

‘Yes, Brett, with you.’

‘But why, my dear?’

‘I didn’t give you my address because I wanted to be left alone. I didn’t give you my telephone number.’

He laughed.

‘And I didn’t take no for an answer. Come – it’s a compliment, you know. You don’t expect a man who’s in love with you to resign himself to not knowing where you are, or what you’re doing, or even whether you’re well or ill.’

She bit her lip.

‘You saw me on Wednesday. I wasn’t ill then.’

He said, ‘Wednesday!’ And then, ‘A tantalising drop of water to a man who is dying of thirst! How much satisfaction do you think I got out of seeing you hemmed in by Cyril and old Holden?’

She said, ‘How did you get my telephone number?’

‘I don’t know. Someone told me Carol had lent you her flat. Look here, I won’t bother you, but what’s the sense of shutting yourself up like this? Dine with me tomorrow. I’ll call for you at seven.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘Can’t – or won’t?’

‘Both, Brett.’

‘You’re being rather hard on me, Katharine – don’t you think so? What do you think I’m made of? You go away suddenly without a word to anyone – it’s not very easy to put up with. If we’re nothing more, we’re cousins and friends, and – I love you.’

Her tone softened a little.

‘I’m sorry, Brett, it’s no use.’

‘You don’t give me a chance to make you care.’

‘Brett, there isn’t any chance.’

‘I don’t accept that. There’s always a chance. I’m only asking you to give me mine.’

She had begun to feel as if she were holding a door against which he was pushing hard. It tired her. She wished very much that he would go away. She had said no, and she had meant no, and he wouldn’t take it. Where did you go from there? She said,

‘It’s no use, Brett – there’s no chance for me to give you. I’m going to marry someone else.’

She heard him say ‘Who?’ but she didn’t answer that.

She said in a tired voice, ‘It isn’t any use,’ and put the receiver back.