Another World by James Hanley

Author:James Hanley
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504005821
Publisher: Open Road Media

7

The bridge leading to the sea was quite deserted, and in the gathering dust of the evening nobody had noticed the man stood at the northern end of it, leaning on the rail, huddled in his overcoat, leaning heavily as from some quite recent exhaustion. And as he stood there he was aware that the discipline of his days, the very simplicity of his life, mocked him. He was aware that he had walked out of the silent house, but could not remember how long he had remained huddled over his desk, a sheet of paper crushed in his hands. He had come out to walk, to find a peaceful spot, to make a decision, and he could not. He thought again of the words on the paper, he read them, he felt them.

‘Dear Miss Vaughan, there was once a woman that was careless in her years, and heeded not the words spoken unto her, and after a while she became sorely troubled by this, for in her country no vintage fell. Thus, a gathering never arrived to raise her up, and the land in her country came up with nought save briars and thorns.’

And he summoned the words in defence of his feelings. ‘I harm none.’

‘It is my life, my life.’

He turned his head to look south, and turned it again to look north. He was glad that he was alone. ‘Should I – go away?’

And in a moment life was a darkness, chained to the ground. He defended and he doubted.

‘I could marry her, we could be happy. Why not?’ But Margiad was suddenly close again, the self-appointed lifebelt, the final succour.

‘She said that they opened my letters to her at the hotel, said they read them, and laughed at them.’

He imagined a hand on the Jones throat, pressing hard.

‘What a place for her to live in.’

He knew that room, and the stairs to it; dream room, dream stairs. He thought of the Gandell woman, he loathed the Gandell woman, felt Jones’s breath in his ear, heard the words. ‘She draws pennies from stones.’

‘I wish .…’

He walked slowly along the bridge, and when he came to the other end, stopped. The morning had returned to him, the waves of it, and suddenly he saw both women, struggling for a place beside him.

‘I am lonely.’

Then he turned and made his way back to the house. Would she be there? Wouldn’t she? He remembered the words of anger that had hit the ceiling. ‘I am going,’ Margiad said, and he heard the slam of the door, and then the silence.

Had she really gone? Deserted him. Not a soul passed him by, and he was glad of that. And there was Ty Newdd, and he thought of the study that was once peaceful, as he thought of the bridge he had just left, where of an evening his sister and he would sometimes stand and look out to the sea, watching the dying light.

The front door lay open just as he had left it, and now he longed to be in, dreading to be in.

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