Midnight All Day Read Online Free PDF Page A

it.
    I return to the hotel to say goodbye to Florence again. In the conservatory, reading the papers, is Archie, wearing a suit jacket over a T-shirt, brown shorts and black socks and shoes, looking like someone who has dressed for the office but forgotten to put their trousers on.
    As I back away, hoping he has not recognised me, and if he does, that he will not quite recall who I am, he says, ‘Have a good morning?’
    In front of him is a half-empty bottle of wine. His face is covered in a fine glacé of sweat.
    I tell him where I’ve been.
    ‘Busy boy,’ he says.
    ‘And you? You’re still around … here?’
    ‘We’ve walked and even read books. I’m terribly, terribly glad I came.’
    He pours a glass of wine and hands it to me.
    I say, ‘Think you might stay a bit longer?’
    ‘Only if it’s going to annoy you.’
    His wife comes to the other door. She blinks several times, her mouth opens, and then she seems to yawn.
    ‘What’s wrong with you?’ asks her husband.
    ‘Tired,’ she whispers. ‘Think I’ll lie down.’
    He winks at me. ‘Is that an invitation?’
    ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she says.
    ‘Why the hell are you apologising? Get a grip, Florrie. I spoke to this young man last night.’ He jabs his finger at me. ‘You said this thing …’ He looks into the distance and massages his temples. ‘You said … if you experienced the desires, the impulses, within you, you would break up what you had created, and live anew. But there would be serious consequences. The word was in my head all night. Consequences. I haven’t been able to live out those things. I have tried to put them away, but can’t. I’ve got this image … of stuffing a lot of things in a suitcase that can’t be closed, that is too small. That is my life. If I lived what I thought … it would all blow down …’
    I realise Florence and I have been looking at one another. Sometimes you look at someone instead of touching them.
    He regards me curiously. ‘What’s going on? Have you met my wife?’
    ‘Not really.’
    My lover and I shake hands.
    Archie says, ‘Florrie, he’s been unhappy in love. Married woman and all that. We must cheer him up.’
    ‘Is he unhappy?’ she says. ‘Are you sure? People should cheer themselves up. Don’t you think, Rob?’
    She crooks her finger at me and goes. Her husband ponders his untrue life. As soon as his head re-enters his hands, I am away, racing up the stairs.
    My love is lingering in the corridor.
    ‘Come.’
    She pulls my arm; with shaking hands I unlock my door; she hurries me through my room and into the bathroom. She turns on the shower and the taps, flushes the toilet, and falls into my arms, kissing my face and neck and hair.
    I am about to ask her to leave with me. We could collect our things, jump in the car and be on the road before Archie has lifted his head and wiped his eyes. The idea burns in me; if I speak, our lives could change.
    ‘Archie knows.’
    I pull back so I can see her. ‘About our exact relation to one another?’
    She nods. ‘He’s watching us. Just observing us.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘He wants to be sure, before he makes his move.’
    ‘What move?’
    ‘Before he gets us.’
    ‘Gets us? How?’
    ‘I don’t know. It’s torture, Rob.’
    This thing has indeed made her mad; such paranoia I find abhorrent. Reality, whatever it is, is the right anchor. Nevertheless, I have been considering the same idea myself. I do not believe it, and yet I do.
    ‘I don’t care if he knows,’ I say. ‘I’m sick of it.’
    ‘But we mustn’t give up!’
    ‘What? Why not?’
    ‘There is something between us … which is worthwhile.’
    ‘I don’t know any more, Florrie. Florence.’
    She looks at me and says, ‘I love you, Rob.’
    She has never said this before. We kiss for a long time.
    I turn off the taps and go through into the bedroom. She follows me and somehow we fall onto the bed. I pull up her skirt; soon she is on me. Our howls would be known to