Chapter 2 Living Cheek by Jowl #3
It didn’t matter. Saul was irresistibly impressed.
Not by Honor’s appearance, immaculate though she was in a violet suit, expertly tailored to emphasize her hand-span waist. And he couldn’t honestly claim that anything she said was remarkable or original.
No, it was her stately demeanor that drew him, her air of lofty self-absorption.
This belied a generous nature, he discovered.
She became his champion, shepherding his work into publication, recommending him to editors and newspaper people.
At times it was almost stifling, the role she took as his advocate.
He was, in a sense, her creature. Yet how could he mind?
Without her, God only knows what might have become of him.
He had helped her, too, he hoped. It was Gerald who had asked him to move into Tregunter Road, during the poor man’s last days.
He may have known about our affair, mused Saul. May have been glad of it.
An odd life I lead, he thought as he polished off his solitary meal and gave Lulu the plate to lick.
When that young man had asked if he meant to stay in England forever, he had thought, But I exist minute by minute, hour by hour.
To contemplate beyond tomorrow was somehow impossible.
He filled his days with work, and in so doing, he felt he managed commendably.
Sleep, food, reading, writing. Sex—well, occasionally, but it wasn’t a priority.
The cinema was a more reliable balm, that escape for hours into a dark, smoky room, alone and yet safely alongside others.
He liked comedies best. To try to make people laugh was to Saul the very essence of goodness.
He heard Honor’s step on the stairs. Come to fetch Lulu, he thought, and indeed the little dog jumped down from a chair, ready to greet her mistress.
“Come in,” he called. Honor glided in with her usual light-footed grace, but her small shoulders were stooped, and she looked tired.
Pensive. As though the bright social performance of earlier this evening had taken a particular toll.
“I’ve just had a bite to eat,” he said. “Can I offer you anything?”
She picked up Lulu, then turned to him, smiling and making more effort. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a drink. So long as I’m not disturbing you.”
“You? Never.” He gestured to the leather sofa and poured two whiskies. As he sat down next to her, he murmured, “Is everything all right, Honor dear?”
She smiled again, nodded. “Of course. Just one of those days.”
“Because if there’s anything you want to talk about…”
“I know. Thank you.” She said no more, but seemed content to sit and sip her whisky.
“Is this young man’s arrival something of a burden? You know, you can’t always be everyone’s savior. You must think of yourself. Who is he, anyway?”
“As I said, his mother—”
“His mother worked at your grandmother’s house. I remember. But this is me.” He placed his hand lightly on her forearm. “We don’t need to have secrets, do we, you and I?”
She gave him a plaintive look and asked for a cigarette.
He sensed she was about to offer some confession, that she had reached, precariously, some emotional brink.
“I do know him from a long time ago,” she said.
“That much is perfectly true. As for the rest—well, it doesn’t matter.
But I wonder if…” She stopped and watched the bluish smoke stream from the corner of her mouth.
“What? Tell me. Is there something I can do?”
She smiled again, but with sadness. “You are sweet. You’ve always been sweet to me.”
He looked at her inquiringly, and her eyes filled with tears.
She took an intake of breath and brushed both cheeks with the back of her hand.
Thus composed, she said, “I know you work awfully hard, and have precious little free time. But I wonder if you might come upstairs more often. Not for any reason other than I think the girls will feel better with your presence. As a paternal figure.”
He understood. “In case that young man thinks he can get away with any hanky-panky.” Mina had taught him the phrase, but he’d not yet had the chance to use it. “Say no more.”
Honor laughed, then sniffed. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“Speaking of the girls,” said Saul, “George wasn’t herself this evening, was she? Is she unhappy about something?” He hated to see a woman not in control. It was so undignified. His own mother, of blessed memory, never took a drink except for a sip of wine on Shabbos.
“She was drunk! Disgracefully so. I don’t know what on earth has got into her. It’s setting a poor example for Mina.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about our little Mina. I sometimes think she’s cleverer than all of us put together. George… well, I just hope she’s not in any trouble.”
Honor widened her eyes. “You don’t think… No, George would never be so foolish. She was presented to the king at Buckingham Palace!” She spoke as if this were a magic spell against future disgrace. And in a way, perhaps it was.