CHAPTER XVII : ANNIE’S LAST DAYS & MRS. FREMANTLE
We met at the Gloucester Road station. I could not help thinking what a lovely girl Annie was. Full-bodied, pretty, well dressed in a colorful summer frock and a happy mien. A perfectly well adjusted person with no complications and insecurities. At school she was loved for her placid character by all and some of my friends were constantly running after her. They came to our home supposedly for me but secretly in order to see her. They asked her to accompany them to parties without extending the invitation to me, which however much it suited me, caused me secret resentment. She was a fine athlete, a trait inherited from our mother who was slimmer and stronger, and yet Annie excelled in netball and athletics. She arrived a few minutes late, as usual, and came towards me with her nonchalant walk and delightful smile. Two years of intimate and constant proximity in London had brought us very close to each other. I kissed her and thought of Omar and Tasos. One was about to lose her and the other to acquire her for life. We descended in the lifts to the train platform and in the practically empty carriage sat next to each other. I shall miss you when you leave, I told her, but perhaps even more than me Aunt Agatha will be disconsolate. She smiled. That’s life, she said. Life presents us with a series of choices and we have to bear the consequences of our decisions. But sometimes fate, bad luck, call it what you will, intervenes and spoils our designs. Aunt Agatha did not spell it out clearly but she has repeatedly hinted that she came to London to be with a woman she met during the war, a British army nurse and I presume that Agatha was in love with her. They lived together for a while but later they separated. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps the woman died or else simply left her. After the separation she led a lonely life and she told me she had severe psychological problems. For a while she was in and out of mental hospitals. She is more or less normal now that she is getting on in age and she told me that I was a ray of sunshine in her life in those two years I was here. You will be doing me a great favor, George, if you would visit her once in a while. I dread to think how her life will end. I promised Annie I would. I had tried to hide my suspicions of Agatha’s lesbianism from Annie and here she was, my sweet, sensible Annie, giving me practically the whole story.
We were silent for a while and then she asked me how I was getting on with Diana. A little too well, I said. Oh? Did she leave Edgar? I don’t know, I replied. We don’t talk about him because we end up arguing when I mention him. So what’s the story? I am in love with her, that’s the story, I replied. Is that bad? she asked. No, but didn’t you know that being in love is a sickness? I have no peace of mind. I am constantly thinking of her and I can’t even study properly. Haven’t you gone through this predicament with Omar? No, my dear, she said. I knew what type of man Omar was from our schooldays and I decided to be very careful and sober with him. I enjoy sex with him but I keep reminding myself that womanizers rarely change. I laughed. Good for you Annie, I said, and instead of you falling for him, I have the impression he has fallen in love with you. She laughed as well. With Omar it’s one of those easy come, easy go situations, that is, easy to love, easy to forget.
We got off at Russell Square and walked to Aunt Agatha’s basement flat. She received us with smiles and happiness but also with sighs and tears. She was about to lose her Annie and a hundred Georges could not replace that loss. I am so terribly happy Annie decided to marry her Tasos, she told me. I like to think my urging helped her take that decision. But I believe the decisive factor was his short visit to London. Annie saw him away from family and friends, she saw his good manners, his education, his civilized dress and bearing but most of all she felt his love for her. Annie smiled. Aunt Agatha, she said, you forgot to tell George that I also found he was quite handsome. Oh, come on, I said, hadn’t you seen him many times before in Egypt? Yes, she said, isn’t it funny that suddenly, here in London, I discovered how good looking he was? Bless you my child, Aunt Agatha said, God opened not only your heart but your eyes as well. Whenever God comes into the picture I usually have an ironic comment to make but I kept silent. We had the usual tea and biscuits when we arrived and at around one the ample lunch she could barely afford with the imaginary champagne which we enjoyed immensely followed by small cups of Turkish coffee. All through the meal she kept looking at Annie with tears welling in her eyes. I’ll come and see you Aunt Agatha, I told her. Not as often as Annie but at least once a month. Annie made me promise to do so. But remember I’ll be away for two months this summer for the wedding. Our departure at four was a mini drama with both Agatha and Annie hugging each other and weeping. Agatha, a slight, sad, ungainly woman with a big nose, thick lips and terrible haircut breaking out in loud sobs. It was poignant and pathetic. I’m made of sterner stuff. No one ever wept over me and I never wept for anyone.
Annie was subdued on the train and I tried to cheer her up by telling her how I lost my virginity. She laughed and said that, that was one of the few good turns Omar did for anyone. I said it was not meant to be a good turn, it was unintended. He was drained and needed to sleep and incidentally cured your brother of his phobia and inexperience. Which was, by the way, the reason I ran away from Diana that first time. I know, Annie said, I guessed as much and tried to explain it to her because she felt rejected and let down. Oh, I see, I said. That was the reason she was reasonably civil with me when we met again in your room a few months later after our disastrous theater date though she was still with Edgar and probably still is even now. It’s quite unorthodox this situation, isn’t it Annie? I mean it’s all right with people like Omar but a girl with two lovers? Not a nympho, mind you. A perfectly normal, intelligent girl with two steady boyfriends. Never heard of this before. And the only thing I can do about it is to either accept it or leave her, which I simply cannot do. I laughed. Yesterday, I bought for her a book by Germaine Greer who would quite approve of the situation of two lovers. Greer is an extraordinarily intelligent, controversial and daring feminist who calls on women to liberate themselves. I have a copy of her book at home and shall bring it to you though I don’t think it’s a book you should be reading before your marriage to a man of probably traditional Greek mentality. Why? Will it corrupt me? Annie said smiling. My ideas are firmly set by now and I do want to read it. In my own way, as you see, I have already broken some taboos of the Greek society. She blushed at this avowal which was a bit late and rather obvious. We had reached Gloucester Road and as we got up to get off the train I kissed her on the cheek and told her I was proud of her.
On Tuesday I waited for Diana at South Ken station. Up to my usual tricks, I stood in an out of the way corner. I had to see if she would look for me or not. I still needed the reassurance that I was not just second fiddle to the great talented artist, the kinky nut who took her to bare assed parties. Sometimes I managed to convince myself that Edgar did not matter but often jealousy churned my entrails and sometimes I imagined that perhaps Diana had developed a taste for these perversions. Didn’t she almost admit as much? I lingered and saw her come out of the lifts with the pack of harassed fellow passengers anxious to go home to the wife and kids or for dinner or a cup of tea and the telly. She looked around and did not see me. The crowd dispersed and she was left standing looking left and right. She spotted me and came to me with a smile. A delicious smile, needless to say, and two blue interrogating eyes. Are we playing hide and seek? she asked. I ran and kissed her and clasped her to my breast with all my strength. Don’t suffocate me dear boy, and don’t play games with me, she said. I would have left, you know, but mother asked me to take you home for a cup of tea instead of our usual coffee. Really? I said. I thought she probably hated my guts. Not at all, Diana said, she rather likes you. I don’t think I can face her, I protested. Oh, come on. I have not told her the whole story of your flight. Just that you left me. I had to. How else could I explain my utter despondency? She was momentarily shocked but she is an eternal optimist my mum and the next moment she smiled and said, don’t worry my dear, I have a feeling everything will turn out well. And it did, didn’t it? Yes, I said, almost. She looked at me reproachfully but said nothing and I thought I really did not deserve that look.
We climbed on the bus and ten minutes later we were outside number seventy-three Fulham Road. Climbed the stairs and Diana opened the door with her key and shouted, mummy, George is here. Mrs. Fremantle came out to the hall in a hurry and did something totally un-English for her generation. She kissed me on both cheeks. How nice to see you again, George, she said. Please come in and sit down. She looked much the same as our previous encounter over a year ago. Slim people seem to age less rapidly and there was hardly any change in her appearance. She was dressed in a dark blue summer dress with short sleeves and her arms because they were so thin were not flabby. Her complexion was white and smooth. Her white hair well combed with a parting in the middle and two red hairclips on each side of her head holding her hair, giving her a youthful air. I looked at her and thought, this is how Diana will look when she is in her fifties. Not exactly but alike. I told her she looked well and she said she perhaps looked better than she felt. Pains all over her body kept coming and going. Well, that’s good, I said, as long as they do not become permanent residents. She asked which would I rather have, tea or a drink? I regret I cannot offer you the fancy cappuccinos you offer my daughter. Tea will be fine, I said, because I have some studying to do at home. It is difficult enough to concentrate after seeing Diana let alone with a scotch clouding my mind. She left to prepare the tea and I moved to the couch next to Diana, embraced and kissed her on the mouth. Stolen kisses they were, hungry, desperate and infinitely sweet and back to my armchair.
Mrs. Fremantle came in with a tray and served a light watery tea and milk which was not the point but the occasion of the meeting. She did like me and wanted me to be with her daughter. Marriage is never far off a parent’s thoughts especially for a daughter but it was obvious that such an event was impossible at the moment. She did not mince her words however. I am so happy to see you with Diana again, she said. I believe you give her a sense of balance. I laughed. Why, I asked, is she unbalanced without me? No, no, she said smiling, but I believe she is happier these days. And, of course, when she is happy, so am I. Diana was following the exchange with the tiniest smile of dissatisfaction on her face. Mummy, she said, the English are supposed to be discreet. This conversation is out of character. Not quite, I thought to myself. There’s quite a bit of discretion in it. Not a word was uttered about Edgar. Mrs. Fremantle could not be unaware of this relationship. Perhaps I brought Diana a sense of balance and old Edgar a sense of unbalance to her life, a distortion she relished. Perhaps Diana liked this equilibrium of a little normality and a little kinkiness on the side. Not to worry Diana, I said, I am used to far greater indiscretions from my countrymen. So let’s talk of more serious things. What happened to your little pet mouse? Diana laughed. From indiscretions to tragedy, she said. Mummy bought some special poisoned rat food behind my back and one day I found little Mickey Mouse on his back and legs in the air. I wrapped him up solemnly in a shroud and threw him in the dustbin. Not even a decent burial? I protested. There are, unfortunately, no gardens in the vicinity for a grave, Diana explained. We talked a little more and I excused myself because of some reading I needed to do at home. At the door I thanked Mrs. Fremantle for the invitation and pleasant afternoon and kissed her. I then kissed my darling Diana chastely on her cheeks. Told her not to forget our date on Friday for the Complaisant Lover and as I uttered the title I pointed at my chest with my thumb. Diana laughed and slapped my hand hard. Mrs. Fremantle had not seen my gesture because Diana was in front of her but saw Diana’s lunge and heard the slap. What on earth was that, Diana? she exclaimed. Nothing, mummy, nothing. George is teasing me, she said laughing loudly. Two or three goodnights and I was on my way.