Lucky Jim

Dixon did this, managing to hint as he talked at how matters stood between himself and Margaret. Catchpole listened in silence with his eyes on the table, frowning slightly and playing with a couple of dead matches. His hair was long and untidy. At the end he said: "Thanks very much. That clears things up quite a bit. I'll give you my side of the story now. Firstly, contrary to what Margaret seems to have told you, she and I were never lovers in either the emotional or what I might call the technical sense. That's news to you, I take it?'

'Yes,' Dixon said. He felt curiously frightened, as if Catch-pole were trying to pick a quarrel with him.

'I thought it might be. Well, having met her at a political function, I found myself, without quite knowing how, going about with her, taking her to the theatre and to concerts, and all that kind of thing. Quite soon I realized that she was one of these people - they're usually women - who feed on emotional tension. We began to have rows about nothing, and I mean that quite literally. I was much too wary, of course, to start any kind of sexual relationship with her, but she soon started behaving as if I had. I was perpetually being accused of hurting her, ignoring her, trying to humiliate her in front of other women, and all that kind of thing. Have you had any experiences of that sort with her?" ' Yes,' Dixon said. ' Go on.'

'I can see that you and I have more in common than we thought at first.

However; after a particularly senseless row about some remark I'd made when introducing her to my sister, I decided I didn't want any more of that kind of thing. I told her so. There was the most shattering scene.'

Catchpole combed his hair back with his fingers and shifted in his seat.

'I'd got the afternoon off and we were out shopping, I remember, and she started shouting at me in the street. It was really dreadful. I felt I couldn't stand another minute of it, so finally, to keep her quiet, I agreed to go round and see her that evening about ten o'clock. When the time came, I couldn't face going. A couple of days later, when I found out about her… attempted suicide, I realized that that was the very evening I'd been supposed to go and see her. It gave me a bit of a shock when I realized I could have prevented the whole thing if I'd taken the trouble to put in an appearance.'

'Wait a minute,' Dixon said with a dry mouth. 'She asked me to go round that evening as well. She told me afterwards that you'd come and told her…'

Catchpole brushed this aside. 'Are you quite sure? Are you sure it was that evening?'

'Absolutely. I can remember the whole thing quite clearly. As a matter of fact, we'd just been buying the sleeping pills when she asked me to come round, the ones she must have used in the evening. That's how I remember. Why, what's up?'

'She bought some sleeping pills while she was with you?'

'Yes, that's right.'

'When was this?' "That she bought them? Oh, about midday I suppose. Why?'

Catchpole said slowly: 'But she bought a bottle of pills while she was with me in the afternoon.'

They looked at each other in silence. 'I imagine she forged a prescription,' Dixon said finally.

'We were both supposed to be there, then, and see what we'd driven her to,' Catchpole said bitterly. 'I knew she was neurotic, but not as neurotic as that.'

' It was lucky for her the chap in the room underneath came up to complain about her wireless.'

'She wouldn't have taken a risk like that. No, this pretty well confirms what I've always thought. Margaret had no intention of committing suicide, then or at any other time. She must have taken some of the pills before we were due to arrive - not enough to kill her of course - and waited for us to rush in and wring our hands and see to her and reproach ourselves. I don't think there can be any doubt of that. She was never in any danger of dying at all.'

'But there's no proof of that,' Dixon said. 'You're just assuming that.'

' Don't you think I'm right? Knowing what you must know about her?'

'I don't know what to think, honestly.'

'But can't you see…? Isn't it logical enough for you? It's the only expknation that fits. Look, try to remember; did she say anything about how many pills she took, what the fatal dose was, anything like that?'

'No, I don't think so. I just remember her saying she was holding on to the empty bottle all the time she…' "The empty bottle. There were two bottles. That's it. I'm satisfied now.

I was right.'

'Have another drink,' Dixon said. He felt he must get away from Catchpole for a moment, but while he was standing at the bar he found he couldn't think, all he could do was to try vainly to get his thoughts into order. He hadn't yet recovered from the ordinary basic surprise at finding that a stranger knew very well someone he knew very well; one intimacy, he felt, ought to rule out any others. And as for Catchpole's theory… he couldn't believe it. Could he believe it? It didn't seem die kind of theory to which belief or disbelief could be attached.