'I said in my letter I was going to ring this morning.'

'I don't care a fuck what you said in your letter. I'm going to see you to the door and you go out and stay out.'

'Come out for a minute and talk to me.'

'I will not talk to you. I will not be blackmailed by a stupid emotional woman. Either you do what I tell you or you go to the devil.'

Someone had passed by us on the stairs. Someone dressed today in a smart tweed coat and a white sheepskin hat. The whiff of the familiar perfume passed like driving mist. I had been speaking quietly but my words must have been audible. Tommy was saying something. We reached the ground floor and emerged into the street.

It was pouring with rain. 'Oh Hilary - darling - you're getting all wet - please forgive me - please see me tonight - you can't leave me like this, I shall cry all day - I'm so sorry to have displeased you - I just had to see you, I had to - please say you'll see me tonight - '

In order to get rid of her and because it was raining so hard I said, 'All right. Come to the flat at eight.' I went back inside. My clothes were dripping. I was soaked to the skin.

A purely physical set-back can have a profound mental effect. This is obvious in large cases but is equally marked and more insidious in small ones. Simply because I got so wet and cold at eleven a.m. I made a decision at eleven p.m. which I would certainly not otherwise have made.

After Tommy disappeared I went back into the building and back to the Room where Edith and Reggie were gleefully awaiting my return. They began to offer the predictable witticisms but I shut them up with a ferocity which silenced even titters. It was impossible to get my clothes dry and I felt so cold and so wretched I decided about midday that I must go home and change. I intended to return in the afternoon, but did not. I got home, took off my clothes and had a hot bath. (Christopher was out cleaning flats.) I got into bed with a hot water bottle but simply could not get warm. I lay there shivering. I did not exactly feel delirious, but all sorts of compulsive lurid fantasies possessed my mind. I wondered if Gunnar would kill me. I pictured this happening. I was obsessively miserable because Lady Kitty had heard me brawling vulgarly with a woman. I had no good reason to believe that Lady Kitty knew who I was, but this did not stop me from believing it. I had no conception whatever of Lady Kitty, I had never really ever seen her face, but she suddenly seemed to loom larger and larger like a mythological figure. I reflected upon the mystery of Biscuit, and began to picture myself as the victim of some sort of enormous plot, whereby Gunnar was going to murder me and make it seem an accident.

At about five o'clock Christopher returned, and seeing my light on (I was trying to read Pan Tadeusz but could not keep my attention on the page) knocked on my door. He came in waving some five pound notes, a contribution towards the mounting rent bill.

'Hilary, look, lovely rent! I say, are you ill or something?'

'I think I'm getting 'flu,' I said. 'It's all round the office.' My limbs were aching. I felt as if I had a temperature.

Christopher backed away a little. 'I'm so sorry. Can I get you anything?'

'No. Thanks for the rent.'

'Wouldn't you like some tea or some whisky or something?'

'No. Just fuck off, there's a good boy.'

Christopher was looking his most pardish, beautiful and slim and young, his pale face blazing with health, his pale blue eyes bright with intelligence and joie de vivre. I looked at him with disgust.

'By the way, we got Mick out of jug. He's coming in this evening.'

'Was he acquitted? Too bad.'

'No, no, he's out on bail.'

'How did you get the money?'

'Clifford gave it to me.'

'More fool he. Go away, will you. And for God's sake pull your jersey down.'

I lay now tormented by the idea that Christopher had seen Clifford. There was no sort of reasoning in this torment, it was just mechanical. The thought that Clifford had probably also provided the fivers which lay on my bedside table made things no better, made them worse. In the kitchen Christopher was singing Who is it, waterbird, who who who? Sad am I, waterbird, blue blue blue.

'Shut up!'

Silence.

Later on Mick and Jimbo arrived and later still there was the sound of the tabla being discreedy played in Christopher's room. Christopher let Tommy in when she came at eight. 'Mrs Uhlmeister has come.' Tommy's name evidently had some sort of comic or ritualistic significance for Christopher too.

I was feeling so intensely sorry for myself by this time, I was delighted to see Tommy. After all, a woman is a woman and it is her job to be a ministering angel. Tommy ministered.

'Why, darling, are you ill?'

'Yes.'

'Temperature?' feeling my brow. 'Have you a thermometer?'

'No.'

'You feel all chilled,' feeling my limbs. I was in pyjamas, 'and your hottie's all cold.'

'If you mean my hot water bottle, you are at liberty to rejuvenate it.'

Tommy bustled around, boiling a kettle, found another hot water bottle, inserted the two bottles in suitable places in the bed, found an extra blanket and an extra pillow, and made a marvellous steaming hot drink out of whisky and lemon. She sat beside me on the bed, half embracing me and taking occasional sips out of the same glass.

'Don't be such an idiot, Thomas, you'll get my 'flu or whatever it is.'

'I want your 'flu. I want you. I love you viruses and all.' She kissed me on the lips.

'You dolt, Tomkins. What an excellent drink you've made.'

'Are you warmer?'

'A bit. I still feel - '

'I'll warm you up properly.'

In a moment she was taking off her clothes. Shoes went flying. Blue Italian beads clinked on the table. Brown Norwegian sweater fell upon the floor, followed by blue tweed skirt and sensible woollen vest and brassiere. Long red woollen knickers came off and then, more carefully, dark blue tights. Then Tommy was with me, her small vigorous glowing warm body nuzzling against me, her little hands fiddling with my pyjama buttons and exploring the black hair of my front, her wonderful long legs against my legs, then a prehensile foot pulling at my pyjama trousers.

I laughed. Then I made love to her. And in the transporting joy of love seemed to find a sudden fated issue from all the terrors that had been obsessing me. The world, for a short time, became marvellously simple and beautiful, immediate present and satisfactory. And it seemed real too, as if I had moved out of awful dreams into a plain pure reality. Afterwards we lay for a long time in silence, her head upon my chest, her lips moving slightly in the black fur in an ecstasy of affection, her thighs, her legs glued to me, her feet embracing my feet. I felt dazed and warm and not exactly happy, but with the conception of happiness, usually absent from me, present somehow as a distant buzz.

'You see,' said Tommy at last.

'What do I see, little Tomkins?'

'You love me.'

'I've let you rape me, that's all. I wasn't strong enough to resist.'

'Hilary, it does work, between us, it does. It's not just physical. I won't put up with your pretending it is. With someone like you it couldn't be. You're all mind, well not all, there's Ms marvellous thing, thank God, but you couldn't make love like that unless you loved.'

'Couldn't I? You underestimate your charms.'

'You know what I mean. Hilary, let's get married. Why not opt for happiness? I could make you happy. And you haven't been. I don't know why, but you haven't, perhaps ever, been really happy. Let me love you and look after you forever. Let's have a home, a real place, I could make it so nice. I want to give my whole life to making you happy. It mightn't be easy, but I could learn, I will learn. And you'll tell me, won't you, about that thing that happened long ago.'

I pushed her a little away from me, unglueing a clinging caressing leg. 'You said you wanted to ask me something or tell me something, didn't you? All that stuff in your letter and ringing me up and calling in in that wicked forbidden way and not waiting for Friday. What was it all about?'

'Well - there was something, but it doesn't matter now - I mean, it was nothing, nothing matters but you.'

'So it was all a pretext?'

'Well, yes - it doesn't matter.'

'You're a very bad girl.'

After a silence, Tommy said, 'Is Crystal going to marry Arthur?'

It was typical of the way I ran my affairs that no one had yet told Tommy this. I reflected. 'Yes.'

'Oh - ' Her gasp of relief, her tremor of joy.

I remembered Clifford's words: I suppose if Crystal marries her dull swain you will marry yours.

Tommy was no dull swain. She was, as I could objectively see, a dear wonderful clever little girl. Was it conceivable that she could make me happy? If I married her I would utterly lose my life as it was now. But what was the value of my life as it was now? Nothing - It was a dim sad frightened sort of a life, and one which was burgeoning into nightmare. Could Tommy, in this crisis, save me? Suppose I were to leave my job. If I had Tommy to support I would have to find another job and I would have a motive for doing so. I would earn money to buy saucepans for our little 'home'. Could it be like that? Would I be able ever to tell Tommy about the past, to tell her about Anne in the motor car? I had told Arthur. But telling Tommy would be a very different matter. Of course there could be no doubt that my marrying Tommy would make Crystal's marrying Arthur that much easier, perhaps even that much happier. What would it be like then, the four of us? At first it seemed an absolutely appalling idea - and yet - could we not have life and have it more abundantly? I had to let Crystal go, she had to let me go. After all, it had to happen.

'What are you thinking, my love, my darling?'

'About you. I was wondering if you could make me happy. It would be fearfully difficult.'

'I'm fearfully clever, and I love you fearfully much.'

'Let's have some more of that delicious whisky and lemon drink.'

At eleven o'clock that night I was engaged to be married to Thomasina Uhlmeister.

THURSDAY.

'HERE's to Tommy and Hilary!' 'Tommy and Hilary, may they be blissfully happy!' 'Hooray!'

It was Thursday evening and we were at dinner with the Impiatts. 'We' were Tommy and me.

How the news had got out so quickly I was not sure and did not want to discover. Tommy was doubtless overjoyed to let our 'engagement' be announced at once, though whether she had arranged this deliberately, was unclear. Somebody had telephoned somebody. Possibly Laura had telephoned Tommy. Possibly Tommy had telephoned Laura. Perhaps Laura had learnt something from Christopher. Christopher would hardly even have needed to listen at the door to get the general idea. Anyway, there we were, an officially engaged couple, sitting a quatre with the Impiatts, toasting our own success in champagne.

I did not let Tommy stay the night. I sent her away about twelve. On Thursday morning I felt physically restored, so presumably it was not the 'flu. I had a headache, but I attributed that to the whisky. Mentally I did not feel so good. I went to the office, I did my work. I kept up my reign of terror in the Room, and achieved quiet if not peace thereby. I heartily regretted what had occurred. It might not be too strong to say that I was appalled at myself. On the other hand, I did not regret it enough to have the will power immediately to reverse it. Not foreseeing instant exposure, I decided to let it drift. I did not really regard myself as committed. I was however impressed by the fact that I certainly had thought the marriage feasible, and had even, on some grounds or other which I could not now quite recall, welcomed the idea. I remembered having thought something about happiness. And although I could not now recapture my reasoning, I had reasoned and was by no means totally confident that today's argument was to be preferred to yesterday's. When I arrived at the Impiatts and found that the secret was out and that (surprise, surprise!) Laura had actually invited Tommy in her new role as my fiancee, I was completely stunned. I played along of course, I had no alternative, and I did not even glare at Tommy who was constantly throwing me delighted rueful humbly apologetic glances.

Joy had transformed Tommy as it had transformed Arthur. She looked almost beautiful. She was wearing an ankle-length woollen dress of blue and green check with a high neck and an imitation gold chain and locket. (The locket contained a snip of my chest hair which she had removed last night.) Her mousy ringlets had been persuaded to unravel themselves into a ripple of more orthodox curb. Her pockmarked face glowed with health and triumph. Her little lipsticked mouth and small nose thrust out at the new world, mobile and gay. The smoky-grey pure transparent eyes were huge and moist with deference and humility and bliss. Sitting next to me at table she gently put her foot up against mine. I kicked her smartly on the ankle. She began to giggle and tears of pure joy overflowed onto her cheeks.

Laura was saying, 'Tommy and I must go Christmas shopping together. Let me see, how many shopping days now to Christmas? We must go wedding shopping together. Will you have a white wedding, Hilary dear?'

'Don't be a dope, Laura.'

'What would you like as a wedding present?'

'A single ticket to Australia.'

'Now then, Hilary, you're not going to be allowed to escape, is he, Tommy? Men are always terrified of it, aren't they. I remember how scared Freddie was. I practically had to keep him handcuffed.'

'Nonsense, darling, it was you who were ready to bolt!'

'Will you get married on the same day as Arthur and Crystal?' Laura's promise not to tell Freddie about Arthur and Crystal had evidently wilted, perhaps under the influence of the news about Tommy and me. 'A double wedding is such fun. Will you let me arrange it all?'

'Certainly not. We haven't even told Arthur and Crystal yet - besides they may not be - there's nothing definite at all - '

'Oh come, come. I think a January wedding would be nice. There might be snow and the brides could wear fur hats.'

'And we'll have a great office party!' said Freddie. 'It isn't often that we have a double office wedding. We might even arrange it to coincide with the pantomime.'

'We might have a song about it in the panto! I'll ask Christopher.'

'What an absolutely marvellous idea!'

'You'll do no such bloody thing. How is the pantomime getting on, by the way, Freddie?' I urgently wanted to change the subject. Tommy's little foot had come back to the attack.

'Oh everything's fine except that we still haven't cast Peter. That pretty little Jenny Searle in Registry will make quite a good Wendy. But we're at our wits' end for a Peter.'

'Why shouldn't Tommy play Peter?' said Laura.

This was discussed with great animation. There seemed to be nothing against it. Tommy was an actress, a dancer. She was slim and slight enough for the part and not too tall. She was of course an outsider, but there were, as Freddie explained, precedents for this. The year before last when they did Aladdin Mrs Frederickson's younger brother had played the Genie of the Lamp. Besides, if by then Tommy and I were one flesh, she would not really be an outsider. And so on and so on and so on. Tommy was so pleased and so happy and drank so much champagne she became almost speechless.

When I rose to go at my usual early hour (on Thursdays I normally went on to fetch Arthur from Crystal's) Tommy rose too of course. She went upstairs to get her coat and Freddie followed her up to give her a text of the pantomime to look at. I was left alone for a moment with Laura. We were by now in the drawing-room where we had been drinking coffee.

'Laura, do ask Freddie not to tell the office yet - '

Laura was wearing another of her tents, a voluminous orange silk affair that made a formidable frou-frou. With her streaming grey hair and her saffron robe she looked like some sort of dotty Buddhist priestess. She had been exceptionally merry throughout the evening. Now suddenly her exalted face contracted, she bit her lip, and on the instant there were tears in her eyes. She was standing close to me. Without looking at me she clasped my hand and pressed it hard. She held it so for a moment, then drew it up against her thigh, and released it. I felt the slippery silk, the warm plump flesh.

'Oh, Laura - '

She shook her head and dashed the tears away with her knuckles, turning to pour herself out some brandy. Freddie and Tommy were coming down the stairs laughing.

I was aghast. I did not know what to think. Laura could not possibly be in love with me. Perhaps she just suddenly felt envious of Tommy's youth. Tommy's slim charm, Tommy as fiancee, Tommy as Peter Pan. Yet Tommy was not all that much younger than Laura, and had not Laura herself suggested Tommy for Peter? Had that been generosity or was it the perverse act of a woman who wants suddenly to heap up her own chagrin? All this passed through my head in seconds.

Freddie came in. 'I say, Freddie, don't tell the office yet, I shall be teased to pieces!'

A minute later Tommy and I were out in the street. It was raining very slightly, something more like a damp yellowish mist, the beginnings of a fog.

'Darling, you aren't angry with me? I didn't do it on purpose, honest - you see Laura - '