The Soft Centre

Last night… I suppose this really is wily I have begun to write up this diary again… after Chris and I had sat on the terrace, watching the moon light up the sea… he came to my room. He wanted to make love to me. This was the first time he had these feelings for me for more than two years. During those two years I had lain in my lonely bed, aching for him, aching for him to take me, to feel him move into my body, to feel his face against mine. But seeing him come into the room, lit only by the moon, I felt terrified. I thought of his hands and the knife and the woman. He sat on the side of the bed and he put his hands in mine. But the touch of his hands turned me cold and sick. I suppose the expression on my face warned him to go no further. He smiled at me… I thought of Mona Lisa… it was that kind of smile, and he said, ‘We’ll get adjusted. You’ve been patient with me. I can be patient too.’ But I felt that he was disappointed and even suddenly bored with me. When he had gone back to his room, I cried. I now know I can never bear him to touch me. Is it what that fat old man calls an adventure to begin life again?

September 6th.

We were sitting together on the terrace when this girl came down the steps of the hotel. She was quite lovely: young, golden with the sun, wearing a bikini and her hair was the colour of honey. She walked with an assurance that I have never been able to acquire. She was practically naked. The fold of her buttocks and the thrust of her breasts were something that

stabbed me with envy. She went down to her car. She slid under the wheel knowing everyone, including Chris and myself were watching her.

Chris said, ‘Did you see that girl? I wonder who she is? Did you notice the way she moved?’

I said stupidly, ‘What girl? No, I didn’t notice.’

It was a lie, and lie knew it was a lie. He turned a page of his book. Secretly watching him, I could see he wasn’t reading.

In spite of the sun, I felt suddenly cold.

It was their last day at the Spanish Bay hotel. Val was busy packing. Tomorrow morning, they would be flying back to New York. Chris was on the terrace reading Little Dorrit. As Val was closing the last suitcase, the telephone bell buzzed.

It was her father.?‘Val? All well?’?‘Yes, Daddy. We leave on the ten o’clock plane.’?‘Fine. I’ll be at the airport to meet you. How’s Chris?’?‘He’s wonderful. He can’t wait to get back to the office.’?‘Is that right? But how is he, Val? Look, I’m not sold on that fat quack. Is Chris really all right?’

‘But, Daddy, what are you saying? Of course he’s all right! He’s now ready to start work again.’

‘Well… all right… if you say so… I talked to Zimmerman. I didn’t like him. He’s too sure of himself. I don’t like people who are that sure of themselves.’

Val closed her eyes. She knew from past experience that her father was always right. ‘Darling, Chris is fine. Do stop worrying. We’ll be back tomorrow. You’ll see… Chris is really fine.’

‘And you, Val? How about you?’

She suddenly felt a wave of emotion rush through her. She couldn’t speak. She felt tears running down her face.

‘Val! I said how about you?’ her father said impatiently.

‘I—I’m fine too,’ she said. ‘Thanks for calling, Daddy. I—I look forward to seeing you,’ and she replaced the receiver.

She sat crying for several minutes, then she touched her eyes with her handkerchief and got to her feet. She remembered what Chris had once said: Your father is a remarkable man. He hasn’t got the soft centre that I have… you know what I mean: a soft centre? It is something that can happen to anyone who is just ordinary. You think you are all right, that you are making a big success of life, that you have all the confidence, ambition and determination to beat the best, then suddenly the hard core that is in you to get anywhere in this life, turns soft. That’s what has happened to me.

He had advised her to divorce him. She now knew she would have to get the divorce. This dead and mutilated woman lay between them for ever. Yes, she would have to get a divorce. She thought of the years ahead of her. She would, of course, go back to her father’s house. At least, that would give him pleasure. And Chris? What would become of him?

She got to her feet and went to the window and looked down on the terrace. The blonde girl in her red bikini was sitting by Chris. The sun lit up her hair. She was laughing and she was very animated. Chris was laughing too. He looked happier than Val had seen him since the accident.

Suddenly he got to his feet and extended his hand. The girl grasped it and stood up.

Together they walked along the terrace and down the steps towards the beach.?Val had a feeling that at last Chris’ adventure to begin a new life could be beginning.

She went back to the suitcases and began to re-pack, putting her things in one suitcase and his in another.

THE END