CAPTER XI : THE CARETAKER.
On Friday Diana joined me at the station punctually at eight. With each successive meeting the ice melted a little more. A slight chill and remoteness was still lurking somewhere in her soul but it did not prevent a pretty smile, which indeed was fitting with her pretty, lightly made-up face, her blue eyes and delicate bearing. She wore a dark blue coat suitable for the occasion, which accentuated her blond hair and milky complexion. I am full of little wiles and made no move to kiss her but she brought her face to mine and I smelled a discreet perfume. I inhaled deeply and noisily. Aren’t you going to kiss me? she asked. Of course, I said. I thought you wanted me to smell your scent. It’s very nice. Did you put it on for me? She smiled. For you and the people around us. You still haven’t kissed me. She brought her face close to mine again and I kissed both her cheeks. We went underground in the lift and the draft of the incoming train messed up her hair. Hell, I should have worn a scarf, she cried annoyed. When we entered the train and sat down I arranged her hair as well as I could with my hands. She thanked me but we hardly talked because I asked, How’s Edgar, and she became frigid. Perhaps she thought I was needling her. Then I asked her if she saw Annie and she said, now and then, she’s too busy with Omar. I suppose, I said, people are lucky to be busy with someone rather than not being busy with anyone, to which I got no answer. We got off at Covent Garden and walked rapidly and silently towards the Duchess. It was a short distance away. The weather was cold but not windy so her hair stayed in place. She had a light, delicate walk and I was proud to be walking next to her. I reflected that in my life I was constantly missing trains. At school, Annie tried to fix me up with girls that were eager το link with me but I left them high and dry. Not once, many times.
We entered the theatre with minutes to spare. The play was to start at eight-thirty. The atmosphere in the foyer, noisy and festive. Well-dressed bourgeoisie, noisy with la-di-dah accents and noisy, upper-class male guffaws. Diana checked her coat at the cloak room and I left my creased raincoat. She wore a simple, dark blue evening dress, the same color as her coat with a high collar and without sleeves which left her thin adolescent arms bare to my predatory glances. Also, a very thin light blue necklace reached below an infantile bosom. I wore a suit, the only one I had in London, white shirt and tie, and black shoes. You look very nice, Diana told me. Thank you, I said, you look even better. Smashing, in fact. We are a lovely couple except we are not a couple. She smiled. We entered the stage auditorium which was not as large as the usual London theatres and were guided to our perfect seats in the expensive stalls. Almost immediately the lights dimmed, the curtain went up, and the play began. The Caretaker was Pinter’s first big success, a tragicomedy in the manner of Becket’s Waiting for Godot. That is, absurdist without a structured plot, it brings out the human inability to communicate and behavior that often resorts to lies and deception and is funny because humans so often are. Three people were on stage, the young Alan Bates, the wonderful Donald Pleasance and Peter Woodthorpe and they kept us riveted. At the intermission we went to the crowded bar for a glass of champagne and Diana said, you’re really snowing me. I said, no, because I don’t think it would work with you but I do want you to have a nice time. We were both a little high with the champagne and returning to our seats I held her slender arm. I had plans for further innocent intimacies but both the play and the acting were absorbing and did not give me the chance to think of holding her hand, which I had planned to do.
We left the theatre elated and walked towards Piccadilly, which was not far off. It was still early, just about eleven. The crowds were in full swing. The revelers, the Teddy boys, the strip joints, the coffee bars and smut bookshops. There was still an hour to go before people started burrowing down the underground for the last trains. Let’s have a bite somewhere, I suggested. I’m not hungry, said Diana. I know you’re thinking of the expense, I said. If I had a thousand pounds I would gladly spend it this evening. I am so happy you enjoyed the play. I enjoyed it too because it showed us how pathetic we can be sometimes. So please let’s have something to eat. Just a bite. I held her hand and pulled her to an Italian restaurant across the street. She let herself be led. We sat at a table. Because of the late hour only a few customers were inside. It was a small place with pictures of Rome on the wall and red checkered table cloths. I looked at the menu. Meat? I asked Diana. Okay. The waiter appeared and I ordered two Scaloppini a la Marsala and two glasses of Chianti. He served the wine first and I lifted my glass. To us, I said, and please don’t tell me again that I missed the train. She smiled, lifted her glass and clinked mine. To our friendship, she said. We took a sip. Really, George, thank you very much, she said, it was a lovely play. It had something for everyone. Such as? I asked. For me it was a contemplation on the absurdity of life. I have often tried to find a meaning or a direction that would fulfill me. Love, marriage, motherhood, I keep on wondering. My parents were never really happy in their marriage. I suppose they must have been at the beginning but characters and habits rarely change and they emerge intensely and unremittingly after a time to undermine the initial compromise of a shared life. About you I kept thinking, and please don’t get touchy and irritated, I kept thinking how unadapted you are. Perhaps not unadaptable but certainly unadapted. And I thought it strange that, although from the same family, Annie is so well adjusted to life, takes it as it comes, is on top of it, and consequently very happy. I am not unadapted, I said. I am just shy and inexperienced and, yes, I have not managed to adapt to girls and the sexual mores of London like my friends. I cannot pick up a girl, have sex and drop her. I must be strongly attracted to even think of having sex and I knew that once I had sex I would fall in love. I would want to marry her. She looked at me uncertainly. Is that why you dropped me? No, not quite, I said, I cut our affair short because of my lack of sexual experience. I presumed that you obviously had sex with Reginald and plenty of practice and was terrified that you were already ridiculing me in your mind for not kissing and touching you. I couldn’t bear that. Sometimes it’s better to be hated than ridiculed. I am not too proud of what I did, Diana. And I did apologize to you more than once. We were silent for a few minutes. I am beginning to understand a few things, she said. It’s a bit of a relief.
The scaloppini were served and we started eating. They were tasty and the wine opened our appetite. After a few mouthfuls Diana said, I think Edgar would have liked the play too. Why? I asked. Is he an intellectual like Reginald? Oh, George, why are all men so antagonistic and nasty towards their rivals? Am I a rival, Diana? How nice. Thank you, love, for raising my hopes. She laughed. Edgar is a very worthwhile person. He’s an artist, a painter. Just the name Edgar irritated me and I said. I bet he’s a modern painter. The type that splashes paint all over the canvas and then explains what it’s supposed to mean. I think we’d better change the subject, said Diana with one raised eyebrow. Don’t take me seriously, sweetie, I’m just nasty and jealous. But you do remember how we laughed at the Picasso exhibition at the Tate. She remembered and smiled. Yes, but that’s different, she said. Yes, Picasso’s drawings were more structured with both eyes on the level of the nose on the same side of the face. And the colors, my goodness. Does Edgar like them? Give me a break, George. We’ve had a lovely evening don’t spoil it for me. Yes, love. Sorry. Tell me about Edgar. No, she said. I insisted, Please. No, she repeated with annoyance. Listen, Diana, I cannot help it. I am offensive with Edgar because I love you. You should be flattered. You love me? Hey, that’s a new one. When did you fall in love with me? When you changed your room so as not to see me? I already explained that, I said. Please don’t play with my anguish. It’s this bloody Chianti that makes me say stupid things. I drank it all in one go. We were silent for a while munching our food. I called the waiter and ordered two ice creams. I don’t want an ice cream, said Diana. I’d rather have a coffee. It’ll keep you awake, I said. Never mind, tomorrow’s Saturday.
I didn’t even finish my ice cream. I felt like a cad. I upset her, perhaps ruined her evening at the last moment. I paid the bill and we walked hurriedly to Piccadilly Station and boarded a train. We found two empty seats, sat down and I held her hand but she did not look at me and we were silent all the way to South Kensington. Outside the lift she said, goodbye George. Thank you very much for the theatre. I enjoyed it tremendously. I did not attempt to kiss her nor take her to her bus stop. I just said, I’ll see you Tuesday. She walked away without answering. I walked to Queensgate depressed and could not go to sleep. I needed to talk to somebody but Omar was not in his room. Lucky guy, I thought. In a warm bed with someone he loves. A lovely girl like Annie. Even when she goes away she will soon be replaced.
On Saturday I studied as well as I could but Diana was circling in my head. Why, I don’t know. Was it love or a bad conscience? The last few days I was reading an amusing book by J.P.Donleavy called A Singular Man. I picked it up in the evening after studying and read half the night because Omar was not in his room for the second night in a row and I felt lonely. It put me in a better mood. The hero, George Smith, had similar love problems. He was in love with his secretary, the gay, wild and willing beauty, Sally Thomson. There were a few differences though. He was rich while I was not and Diana to all appearances was neither gay, nor wild, nor willing. Eventually I managed to sleep and woke up when Omar entered his room early in the morning and banged his door. At ten I got dressed and went to Annie. She was surprised to see me. I’m going to Aunt Agatha, she said, and I told her I’d go with her. She looked tired but relaxed and happy. I was tired and edgy and unhappy. She noticed. Anything wrong? she asked. No I studied late last night. The day was cloudy and cold. Always had to walk with an umbrella in hand in case it rained. Annie said she was fed up with this weather. She was longing for Alexandria’s summer months. We walked to Gloucester Road which was closer than South Ken from her room and down the lift to the trains. A long ride to Russell Square and to Aunt Agatha’s basement flat. Poor auntie was very happy to see me after such a long time. She offered us tea as soon as we arrived and we talked in that gloomy setting of Egypt and Alexandria where she spent her youth and she described the war years of El Alamein. It was a time of love and danger, she said enigmatically. She did not elaborate. Later we had lunch and left her at four to return to Annie’s room where we watched a little television. My eyes felt heavy and I took a nap on the armchair and Annie dozed off on her bed, over the bedcovers, in her street clothes and boots. She was my refuge of last resort and I was hers.
Ever since I entered university I took my studies much more seriously. I did not really have to work very hard that first year because the Economics course was divided into two parts. Exams on general economic principles, history, political philosophy and government took place at the end of the second year and subjects of a greater specialization on the third. That was a long time ago and I believe the system has changed since then. In any case, I did a lot of extra-curricular reading at the time and kept up my cinema going and the occasional theatre. After the failed attempt to mollify Diana, and since she enjoyed the play we saw together I thought another play would be the next best opportunity for a new attempt at reconciliation. Why I was stuck to this girl was a puzzle even for me for truly she was not special. Of course neither was I. Was there a psychiatric explanation? A medical one? An errant gene, an imbalance in my cranial serotonin levels or a synapse in my brain malfunctioning? Why with the abundance of females in London, was I glued to her? Well, yes, I did know that. Besides my crush on Diana, my shyness was a constant hindrance. But I had friends I could call on for help. Friends who were constantly on the prowl, went to dancing clubs, both sober ones in the hotels opposite our house in Queensgate and trendy like the Whisky a Go-Go in Piccadilly. They would have been more than glad to help me. Why did I discard them? On leaving her that day I had told her, I’ll see you Tuesday, but she never showed up. Not then, not the following four or five Tuesdays and I gave up the quest. Two months went by. Spring was in the air and the time was approaching when Annie would be leaving for Egypt, for good. To all appearances the romance with Omar continued smoothly if a little resignedly in view of the looming separation. Tasos did not return to London but in collusion with father, and probably with mother as well, made plans for his future in which Annie was the VIP.