What had once been the most wonderful way to pass time had quickly
become a drag, a nuisance and a pain. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact
moment when the music had gone from being the perfect volume for dancing and
singing along to too loud; when the freely flowing wine and cocktails had gone
from delicious to stale and boring; when the crowd of drunken people had gone
from highly amusing to highly pathetic, or when the cloud of cigarette smoke
that hung over the dancers and drinkers had stopped being part of the ambience
and become eye-watering and smothering. Once upon a time she had been one of
those dancing girls in bedazzled dresses; she had been one of those giggling
people, smoking cigarettes with long, thin mouthpieces.
“Zelda, darling, don’t be a drag!” Violet called from across the room. “Come
dance with us!”
Zelda stayed put. She felt out of
place and detached from her friends, like an outsider looking in �" like a
biologist studying the behavioural patterns of a newly discovered species. Bringing
the glass she was holding to her lips, she studied them with the objectivity of
a scientist and couldn’t imagine why she had been so drawn to them in the first
place. Feathered headpieces and fringed dresses twirled in and out of view as
men in dark suits spun their girls round and round to the rhythm of the music;
drunken people wobbled unstably across the room and laughed as they spilled
their drinks over furniture, themselves and the dancers; a woman was sitting in
one of the corners, black streaks of cried off make-up running down her cheeks.
The smell of tobacco was almost unbearable. As she was making her observations,
Vyvian sat down next to her.
“Shouldn’t you be dancing?” he said and fished a cigarette case out of the
inner pocket of his jacket. He offered her one; she declined.
“I don’t smoke anymore,” she said.
“Very well,” Vyvian said and started looking for a lighter. “Blast and hell, I
seem to have lost my cigarette lighter.”
“There are matches on the table,” Zelda informed him and took another sip of
her cocktail.
“Jolly good!” he exclaimed. “Have you given up dancing as well as smoking?”
“I’ve decidedly grown out of it �" of this, all together,” she said. “These
people are utter animals.” Vyvian put a cigarette between his lips.
“Zelda, darling, this is the Twenties,” he said, struck a match and lit it.
“Live a little, for goodness’ sake.” He nonchalantly waved his hand to put the
match out. Zelda looked at him and, for the first time since they met, noticed
just how despicable he was; he was just like the rest of them.
“Don’t call me darling,” she said coolly and walked out of the room. Vyvian
followed closely.
“What’s the matter with you tonight?” he asked and grabbed her arm. “Where are
you going?”
“I am going home,” she said.
“And how do you expect to get home? You can’t drive,” he pointed out.
“Well, then I shall have to walk.”
“Zelda, darling,” he pleaded, “don’t go. We’re having so much fun tonight �"
it’s really an exceptional party.”
“Do you love me, Vyvian?” she asked him.
“Why, of course I love you,” he said. “I love you very much.”
“And you would like to marry me, wouldn’t you?”
“More than anything in the world!”
“Then I suggest you let go of my arm at once,” she said, “or I should have to
reconsider accepting your proposal.” He let go of her as if he’d been burned,
then took a long drag from his cigarette.
“Although why I want to marry you, I can’t say,” he said. “You’re an impossible
woman.”
“I suppose you’d like me to be like those girls in there,” Zelda said.
“You are like those women in there,”
he said, “you just don’t know it. Outgrown these parties, have you? You haven’t
�" it’s all in your head.” He tapped a finger against the temple of his head. “People
never change, Zelda, least of all people like you.”
“What a wretched little person you are,” Zelda said; Vyvian smiled brightly.
“But you do love me, don’t you?” he said. “Come now, darling, wipe that sour
puss off your face and dance with me for a moment.”
“No, Vyvian, I will not dance with
you,” she said. “I’ve had enough of this party. There are too many people here
to dance properly, and anyway, dancing doesn’t amuse me anymore. I said I was
going home, so now I am going home. Good-bye, Vyvian.”
It was much too late �" or maybe too
early �" to be walking the streets of London alone; the air was crisp and cool,
and the sun was just beginning to light up the horizon. Zelda stepped out of
the house and took a deep breath. It was a glorious summer’s night, and
although she was only outside the house, the stuffy, smoky, loud party seemed
to be miles away. Vyvian had asked her what the matter was �" the truth was that
she didn’t know what had come over her lately. Too many parties had turned into
one long, dreadful, hazy party where people laughed too loudly, too many
cigarettes were smoked and the men she danced with spun her until she was too
dizzy to go on dancing. At first, she had loved the parties and the people she
had met when she went to them; Vyvian, Violet, Cyril, Emilie, Peter �" they had
all been so delightful in the beginning, especially Vyvian.
Oh, Vyvian... how she loved him, he
had been right about that much at least. He was very charming; he could be a
true gentleman when he wanted to. He could also be unbearably cruel when he
wanted to. No one had ever hurt her quite like Vyvian had, but she loved him
all the same. They were to be married very soon; the wedding was only three
weeks away. Sometimes she wondered if marrying Vyvian was the right thing for
her to do, but every time she doubted him he did something to prove his love
for her. There was an unspoken deal between them, a mutual understanding of
sorts, that said that they would always stay together no matter what doubts
they might have; a mutual understanding that they were meant to be together.
Zelda sat down on a bench and
watched dawn approach. For a moment, she closed her eyes and pictured Vyvian’s
face. A smile spread across her face when she imagined walking down the aisle,
her father by her side and Vyvian waiting at the altar. Opening her eyes, she
took another deep breath and thought about what he had said before she left.
“People never change, Zelda, least of all people like you.” She bit her lip. It
couldn’t be true �" she wouldn’t accept it to be true; people changed all the
time. Hadn’t he changed since he came back from the war? He was harder,
somehow, cynical almost. He tried to carry on as usual, but seeing all that
death and destruction would break any man. But what had he meant by “people
like you”? Surely they were the same kind of people. Or did Vyvian consider her
to be beneath him?
Early morning was upon her, and the
earliest early risers were beginning to leave their homes. Her shoes clattered
against the road and echoed off the walls of the buildings as she started
walking down the street. A newspaper salesman had just opened his stand; she
stopped and read the headlines of the day.
“You’re looking lovely if I may say so, madam,” the salesman said. “Where are
you going, dressed up like that on an early morning like this?”
“I’ve just come from a party,” she said.
“Must’ve been one hell of a party,” the salesman said.
“It was actually quite vile,” she told him. “Do you have the time?”
“Five o’clock, madam.” He was beginning to wonder if she was going to buy
anything from him; he was shifting from one foot to the other in an uneasy
manner.
“I’ll have the Telegraph, please,” she said and fished some coins out of her
small handbag.
“There you go, madam,” the salesman said and thanked her for the money. She
walked home and found Vyvian waiting for her.
“Where have you been?” he asked her. “You said you were going home �" I came
home to find you weren’t here. Where were you?”
“I was just walking around,” she said. “It’s a glorious day out. Can’t we go
for a drive in the country?”
“A drive in the- are you mad?”
“It’s such a lovely day out. I could pack us a lunch and we could eat it in a
meadow somewhere, as far away from the city as possible.” Vyvian lit a
cigarette.
“I’m not taking you for a drive anywhere,” he said and sat down in one of the
sitting room armchairs. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you,” she said.
“Two drunks don’t make a sober,” he said, massaging the temples of his head.
“You’re an absolutely impossible woman.”
“Why? Because I want to go for a drive and not waste such a lovely day?”
“No, because you leave me at a party, causing me a great deal of embarrassment,
and then wander around like a woman without a home; you could’ve gotten
yourself killed, you know.”
“You said people never change,” she said.
“You’ve bloody well stayed the same,” he said. “One drink less does not a
different woman make.”
“You’ve changed,” she stated. “Before the war, you would have taken me for a
drive in the country.”
“Of course I’ve changed! I went to war �" the things I saw when I was in the
trenches would be more than enough to give you a nervous attack.”
“You said people never change,” she persisted.
“I said people like you never change,” he said and lit another cigarette.
“Who are people like me?” she asked. He took a long drag from his cigarette,
then put it out.
“Middle-class people,” he said coolly. “People like that wretched father of
yours; they come in to a bit of money and suddenly they think they’re the king
of England and the entire bloody commonwealth.” Zelda was once again struck by
how despicable he was, and how very cruel he could be.
“That is the biggest load of nonsense I have ever heard,” she said in a
cheerful voice. “Do you love me anyway, Vyvian? Will you still marry me,
despite my father being such a foolish man?”
“Of course I do,” he said, “and of course I will, darling, you know I will.”
Zelda smiled, somewhat bitterly; Vyvian didn’t notice the sour edge of her
expression and got out of his armchair.
“I think I shall sleep for a while,” he said and, as he was exiting, added,
“Wake me at ten, will you?” Zelda was left with a bitter taste in her mouth, to
match the bitter smile on her face.
Vyvian slept uneasily. There was a gap in the curtains �" they wouldn’t
close all the way, and as the sun rose a beam of light hit his eyes, almost
blinding him. He rolled over and shut his eyes resolutely. Eventually, he
succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep. For Vyvian, sleep brought no relief. In
his dreams he returned to the trenches; he could smell the wet soil, the
gunpowder… he could almost smell the blood on the battlefield. The nightmares
were constant, but although they were never-ending, they were ever-changing. One
night he would be watching himself from above, as if having an out-of-body
experience; another night he would take the place of one his less fortunate
friends �" the ones that had lost limbs, been shot, fallen ill �" the ones that
had died. Vyvian had watched too many friends die.
When he woke up, he had broken into
a cold sweat. He sat up and, wiping perspiration off his top lip with the back
of his hand, looked over at Zelda, sleeping peacefully next to him. There was
nothing about Zelda that he didn’t love. He knew he could be cruel and distant
with her, but he couldn’t imagine being without her. You’ve changed, he
heard Zelda say to him. It was true that he had changed �" of course he had
changed. If it was for better or for worse, he didn’t quite know. Lately he had
noticed a change in Zelda too, a bitter tinge to her usually sweet disposition.
He had turned a blind eye to it, hoping it would pass and praying her love for
him hadn’t wavered. Their wedding wasn’t far off now, but Vyvian felt unsure
that it would ever take place.
Taking care not to wake Zelda �" oh,
how she looked like an angel! �" Vyvian climbed out of bed and went into the
bathroom. While drawing a bath, he leaned against the sink and looked at his
reflection in the mirror. He looked tired; his eyes were bloodshot and there
were dark circles under them. Something, a quiet voice in his subconscious, told
him he was unwell. No, I’m not unwell, he thought, I’m fine. As long as he had
Zelda, he felt he would be fine. As he undressed and sank into the hot bathwater,
he asked himself how long Zelda would be his.
He dipped a bar of soap into the
water and washed his hair, his face, neck, shoulders, arms. Holding his breath,
he sank under water and let the silence envelope him. He stayed like this until
he could no longer hold his breath. When he resurfaced, he let his head fall
back on the rim of the bath and closed his eyes. As long as I have Zelda, I
will be fine, he repeated to himself like a mantra. He was sure this was the
key to not being �" like that ominous voice had warned him �" unwell. After a few
deep, reassuring breaths, he got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around
himself, and went into the bedroom where his angel lay sleeping quietly.
A couple of weeks later, he was out
driving with Cyril. They drove aimlessly through the countryside, up and down
hills, before stopping for tea and sandwiches and returning homewards. On the
way back, he could hear that quiet, ominous voice of his subconscious again. You’re
unwell, it said again. He hushed it, reassuring it he was perfectly well. After
all, he still had Zelda. Not for long, said the voice. A darkness unlike
any other came over Vyvian then. He was enraged and saddened all at once, and
he felt he would never emerge from this horrid pit ever again. Without thinking,
he turned the steering wheel to the left, causing the car to very nearly hit a
roadside tree; but Cyril had quick reflexes, and steered them on the right
track. Vyvian had valued those quick reflexes highly in the War, but now he
wished Cyril had died at the trenches.
“Zelda, darling, don’t be a drag,” Violet said over the phone. “You
simply must come to this party, it will be splendid!”
“What makes this party so different from all the other parties?” Zelda asked.
She was, despite her vow never to smoke again, holding a cigarette between her
fingers. “Will there be any new people there? Any... interesting people?”
“No �" yes �" does it matter?” Violet said. Zelda passed the receiver from one
hand to the other and pressed it to her ear.
“Don’t you ever feel like every day is the same as the next one?” she said.
“The same party with the same people drinking the same drinks to the same
music, day in and day out... Don’t you ever tire of it all?” Her question was
met with a moment’s silence.
“Darling, is anything the matter?” Violet said at last. “How is Vyvian?”
“He’s fine �" just fine,” Zelda said. “Nothing is wrong.”
“Zelda, you can tell me,” Violet said. “I know what it’s like �" Cyril was at
war, too.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Zelda insisted. “See you at the party �" ta!” She put the
receiver down and put her head in her hands. Something was wrong with Vyvian �"
what it was she didn’t know, but there was something brewing within him ever
since she had left him to wander the streets in the early morning sun two weeks
ago. She had a feeling it was the calm before the storm.
“Did I hear the telephone ring?” Vyvian asked; she started at the sound of his
voice.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said. “You gave me a fright. Violet called and
invited us to a party tonight.”
“Oh, really,” he said, taking his leather gloves off and putting them on one of
the side tables in the sitting room. “Will you be going?”
“Won’t you?” He loosened his scarf; he had been for a drive with Cyril.
“No, darling, I think I’ll be staying in tonight,” he said and walked across
the room to look out the window. Zelda followed him and, standing behind him,
put her arms around his shoulders.
“I wish I knew what it is that has you all upset,” she said very quietly. “What
is it that’s happening inside you?” At first, he didn’t say anything; when he
did, his voice was trembling.
“Zelda... you love me, don’t you?” he asked. She pressed her cheek against his
shoulder blade.
“Of course, my love,” she said.
“And nothing I ever say or do will change that?”
“Nothing,” she assured him. “Nothing in this whole, wide world.” He turned
around to face her.
“Zelda, my love,” he said and took her hands in his, “if I should ever leave
this place, would you come with me?”
“I would follow you to the end of the world and back again if you asked me to.”
He cradled her face between his hands and looked into her eyes, as if he were
taking her words into consideration; then, he smiled.
“Where is that party tonight?” he said and gave her a quick kiss.
So she found herself in another
room, watching the same party replay itself. Vyvian was sitting on the other
side of the room smoking cigars with a group of men she didn’t recognise. He looked
like himself again, laughing and chatting like he always did. Every now and
then he would look over at her; something was going to happen tonight. She
didn’t know what it was, but she felt it in her very core: something was going
to happen. What had she stirred in him that night two weeks ago? Why had he
asked her if she would come with him if he left? He was planning to leave
London �" what else could it mean? She looked at this man, the love of her life
�" the kindest and the cruellest man she knew. They had med in 1914, just before
the war had broken out; in 1914, they had been nineteen years old. When Vyvian
was shipped off to the trenches, their only means of communication had been
writing letters �" letters filled with love, hate, anger, passion, fear; letters
that were sparse; letters that sometimes didn’t make it across the channel. He
survived the war and came home a broken man. They were twenty-three when he
returned; when they turned twenty-five, he asked for her hand in marriage.
“Let’s get out of here.” Vyvian had broken free from the cigar-smoking group
and sat down next to her.
“Vyvian, we just got here,” she said. “It’s the Twenties. Live a little, for
goodness’ sake.” He half-smiled and looked around the room.
“No one will know if we slip out quietly,” he said.
“Alright,” she said. “Lead the way.”
After they left the party, they
found themselves leaning over the railings of a bridge, staring into the dark,
ominous water of the Thames.
“Sometimes,” Zelda said, “I miss being a child. Everything was so lovely when I
was a child �" it was all strawberries and sunshine and everlasting summers.”
“Was it?” Vyvian said. “I don’t recall childhood being like that. I remember
the awful, starched collars Mother made us wear and the cracking sound Father’s
belt made when he beat my brother with it.”
“How ghastly!” Zelda exclaimed.
“My brother was a very naughty child,” Vyvian said, as if to defend his father.
“Have you no pleasant memories of being little at all?” she asked; he closed
his eyes.
“The way Mother’s rose garden smelled in the mornings,” he said, “and reading
books by candle light when I should really have been fast asleep.”
“How very cosy,” she said. They fell silent.
“I killed a man,” he said at last, rather startling her by his statement.
“Looked him in the eye and shot him.”
“Was he a Gerry?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Really, darling, you shouldn’t fret,” she said. “You were, after all, at war
with the Gerries. I expect you killed more than one man.”
“I didn’t look them all in the eye,” he said. She listened in silence as he
told her the story of how a German soldier had been caught trying to climb into
the British trenches. He spoke very little English, and the British spoke very
little German, but it was soon uncovered that the boy �" for he was only a boy,
no older than twenty �" was of no greater significance to the German army. It
was decided that he was to be shot for trespassing.
“The job was given to me,” Vyvian said. “I had to kill this person, this boy
not much younger than myself. I stood him against the wall and aimed my gun at
him �" he wouldn’t stop crying, and he was saying something in German. He was
pleading for his life, begging me to spare him. All I did was look him straight
in the eye, c**k my gun and shoot him. Three times, to be certain.” Zelda
watched him in silence.
“It was an order, Vyvian,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “It
wasn’t for you to decide �" it was kill, or be killed.” The words sounded hollow
and false even to her, but she had to say something.
“I robbed a young man of his life,” he said. “I robbed a mother of her son, and
for what? For king and country? I tell you, Zelda, that if having to see the
fear in that boy’s eyes every time I close mine, having to watch his
humiliation as he wet himself with fear play like a film in my head over and
over �" if that’s what our king and our country wants from me, I’d rather be at
the receiving end of the gun.” She understood now what he had been pondering
over the last two weeks; ice cold fear gripped her heart.
“You don’t mean to say...” she gasped. He looked at her quite calmly.
“If I jump off this bridge,” he said, “will you jump with me?” She broke into
tears.
“I can’t,” she said. “I simply cannot do it.”
“You said you would follow me to the end of the world and back if I only asked
you,” he said and took her hands. “Now, I am asking you.”
“What of Violet and Cyril, and Peter?” she said. “What of Emilie? And our
mothers and fathers, waiting for our wedding? What of our wedding?”
“What of it?” he said harshly. “It doesn’t matter �" I shall jump with or
without you.”
“Vyvian, why must you be so cruel?” she wept. “Please, my love, let me spend my
life with you. I beg of you, please �" stay with me, be mine and never leave,
grow old with me! I love you so �" stay with me and be mine forever more!”
“I can’t,” he said. “I simply cannot go on living.”
“You promised you would never leave me. You promised you would hold me
forever.”
“Jump with me, and we will be together forever more,” he said. “For eternity.”
She couldn’t look at his face. She looked instead at the city she loved and
called home and thought of the life she would be giving up. She saw a wedding,
children, friends, family, grandchildren... but Vyvian was always the groom,
the father, the grandfather. She did not want any of those things if she
couldn’t have them with Vyvian.
“Is this the only way we can be together forever?” she asked. “Is it really the
only way?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said.
“You treat me so very cruelly,” she whispered. Her tears had subsided, and it
was with determination that she said, “Alright.”
“Do you really mean it?” he asked.
“To the end of the world, Vyvian,” she reminded him.
“Zelda, my love...” He gently caressed her face. “Take my hand.” They stepped
up on the railing and looked at each other. “I love you, Zelda.”
“I love you too, Vyvian.”
“Hold on tight, my love.” She gripped his hand as tightly as she possibly
could.
And then, they
stepped into thin air, falling into eternity.
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