Speaker 1: The interval by Vincent O'Sullivan. Missus Wilton passed through a
Speaker 1: little alley leading from one of the gates which were
Speaker 1: around Regent's Park, and came out on the wide and
Speaker 1: quiet street. She walked along, slowly, peering anxiously from side
Speaker 1: to side so as not to overlook the number. She
Speaker 1: pulled her furs closer around her. After her years in India,
Speaker 1: this London damp seemed very harsh. Still. It was not
Speaker 1: a fog to day. A dense haze, gray and tinged
Speaker 1: ruddy lay between the houses, sometimes blowing with a little
Speaker 1: wet kiss against the face. Missus Wilton's hair and eyelashes
Speaker 1: and her furs were powdered with tiny drops, but there
Speaker 1: was nothing in the weather to blur the sight. She
Speaker 1: could see the faces of people some distance off, and
Speaker 1: read the signs on the shops. Before the door of
Speaker 1: a dealer in antiques and second hand furniture, she paused
Speaker 1: and looked through the shabby, uncleaned window at an unassorted
Speaker 1: heap of things, many of them of great value. She
Speaker 1: read the Polish name fastened on the pane in white letters. Yes,
Speaker 1: this is the place. She opened the door which met
Speaker 1: her entrance with an ill tempered jangle from somewhere in
Speaker 1: the black depths of the shop. The dealer came forward.
Speaker 1: He had a clammy white face with a sparse black beard,
Speaker 1: and wore a skull cap and spectacles. Missus Wilton spoke
Speaker 1: to him in a low voice. A look of complicity,
Speaker 1: of cunning, perhaps of irony, passed through the dealer's cynical
Speaker 1: and sad eyes, but he bowed gravely and respectfully. Yes,
Speaker 1: she is here, madam. Whether she will see you or not,
Speaker 1: I do not know. She is not always well. She
Speaker 1: has her moods, and then we have to be so careful.
Speaker 1: The police, not that they would touch a lady like you,
Speaker 1: But the poor alien has not much chanced these days.
Speaker 1: Missus Wilton followed him to the back of the shop,
Speaker 1: where there was a winding staircase. She knocked over a
Speaker 1: few things in her passage and stooped to pick them up,
Speaker 1: but the dealer kept muttering, It does not matter, surely,
Speaker 1: it does not matter. He lit a candle. You must
Speaker 1: go up these stairs. They are very dark. Be careful.
Speaker 1: When you come to a door, open it and go
Speaker 1: straight in. He stood at the foot of the stairs
Speaker 1: holding the light high above his head, and she ascended.
Speaker 1: The room was not very large, and it seemed very ordinary.
Speaker 1: There were some flimsy, uncomfortable chairs in gilt and red.
Speaker 1: Two large palms were in corners. Under a glass cover.
Speaker 1: On the table was a view of row. The room
Speaker 1: had not a business like look, thought Missus Wilton. There
Speaker 1: was no suggestion of the office or waiting room where
Speaker 1: people came and went all day. Yet you would not
Speaker 1: say that it was a private room which was lived in.
Speaker 1: There were no books or papers about. Every chair was
Speaker 1: in the place it had been placed when the room
Speaker 1: was last swept. There was no fire, and it was
Speaker 1: very cold. To the right of the window was a
Speaker 1: door covered with a plush curtain. Missus Wilton sat down
Speaker 1: near the table and watched this door. She thought it
Speaker 1: must be through it that the soothsayer would come forth.
Speaker 1: She laid her hands listlessly, one on top of the
Speaker 1: other on the table. This must be the tensy, as
Speaker 1: she had consulted since Hugh had been killed, she thought
Speaker 1: them over. No, this must be the eleventh. She had
Speaker 1: forgotten that frightening man in Paris who had said he'd
Speaker 1: been a priest. Yet of them all It was only
Speaker 1: he who had told her anything definite. But even he
Speaker 1: could do no more than tell the past. He told
Speaker 1: of her marriage, He even had the duration of it right,
Speaker 1: twenty one months. He told too, of their time in India.
Speaker 1: At least he knew that her husband had been a soldier,
Speaker 1: and said he had been on service in the colonies
Speaker 1: on the whole. Though he had been as unsatisfactory as
Speaker 1: the others, none of them had given her the consolation
Speaker 1: she sought. She did not want to be told of
Speaker 1: the past. If Hugh was gone forever, then with him
Speaker 1: had gone all her love of living, her courage, all
Speaker 1: her better self. She wanted to be lifted out of
Speaker 1: the despair, the dazed, aimless, drifting from day to day,
Speaker 1: longing at night for the morning, and the morning for
Speaker 1: the fall of night, which had been her life since
Speaker 1: his death. If somebody could assure her that it was
Speaker 1: not all over, that he was somewhere, not too far away,
Speaker 1: unchanged from what he had been here, with his crisp
Speaker 1: hair and rather slow smile and lean brown face, that
Speaker 1: he saw her sometimes, that he had not forgotten her, Oh,
Speaker 1: Hugh Darling. When she looked up again, the woman was
Speaker 1: sitting there before her. Missus Wilton had not heard her
Speaker 1: come in. With her experience wide enough now of seers
Speaker 1: and fortune tellers of all kinds, she saw at once
Speaker 1: that this woman was different from the others. She was
Speaker 1: used to the quicker, praising look, the attempts, sometimes clumsy,
Speaker 1: but often cleverly disguised, to collect some fragments of information
Speaker 1: whereupon to erect a plausible vision. But this woman looked
Speaker 1: as if she took it out of herself. Not that
Speaker 1: her appearance suggested intercourse with the spiritual world more than
Speaker 1: the other had done. It suggested that, in fact, considerably less.
Speaker 1: Some of the others were frail, yearning, evaporated creatures, and
Speaker 1: the ex priest in Paris had something terrible and condemned
Speaker 1: in his look. He might well sup with the devil
Speaker 1: that man, and probably did in some way or another.
Speaker 1: But this was a little, fat, weary faced woman about fifty,
Speaker 1: who only did not look like a cook, because she
Speaker 1: looked more like a sempstress. Her black dress was all
Speaker 1: covered with white threads. Missus Wilton looked at her with
Speaker 1: some embarrassment. It seemed more reasonable to be asking a
Speaker 1: woman like this about altering a gown than about intercourse
Speaker 1: with the dead. That seemed even absurd in such a
Speaker 1: very commonplace presence, The woman seemed timid and oppressed. She
Speaker 1: breathed heavily and kept rubbing her dingy hands, which looked
Speaker 1: moist one over the other. She was always wetting her
Speaker 1: lips and coughed with a little dry cough. But in
Speaker 1: her these signs of nervous exhaustion suggested over work in
Speaker 1: a close atmosphere. Bending too close over the sewing machine,
Speaker 1: her uninteresting hair, like a rat's pelt, was eked out
Speaker 1: with a false addition of another color. Some threads had
Speaker 1: got into her hair too. Her harried, uneasy look caused
Speaker 1: missus Wilton to ask compassionately, are you much worried by
Speaker 1: the police? Oh, police, why don't they leave us alone?
Speaker 1: You never know who comes to see you? Why don't
Speaker 1: they leave me alone? I'm a good woman. I only
Speaker 1: think what I do is no harm to any one,
Speaker 1: she continued in an uneven, querulous voice, always rubbing her
Speaker 1: hands together nervously. She seemed to the visitor to be
Speaker 1: talking at random, just gabbling like children do sometimes before
Speaker 1: they fall asleep. I wanted to explain, hesitated missus Wilton.
Speaker 1: But the woman, with her head pressed close against the
Speaker 1: back of the chair, was staring beyond her at the wall.
Speaker 1: Her face had lost whatever little expression it had. It
Speaker 1: was blank and stupid. When she spoke, it was very slowly,
Speaker 1: and her voice was guttural. Can't you see him? It
Speaker 1: seems strange to me that you can't see him. He
Speaker 1: is so near you. He is passing his arm round
Speaker 1: your shoulders. This was a frequent gesture of Hughes, and indeed,
Speaker 1: at that moment she felt that somebody was very near her,
Speaker 1: bending over her. She was enveloped in tenderness. Only a
Speaker 1: very thin veil, she felt prevented her from seeing. But
Speaker 1: the woman saw. She was describing Hugh minutely, even the
Speaker 1: little things like the burn on his right hand. Is
Speaker 1: he happy? Oh? Ask him? Does he love me? The
Speaker 1: result was so far beyond anything she had hoped for
Speaker 1: that she was stunned. She could only stammer the first
Speaker 1: thing that came into her head. Does he love me?
Speaker 1: He loves you? He won't answer, but he loves you.
Speaker 1: He wants me to make you see him. He is disappointed,
Speaker 1: I think because I can't. But I can't unless you
Speaker 1: do it yourself. After a while she said, I think
Speaker 1: you will see him again. You think of nothing else.
Speaker 1: He is very close to us now. Then she collapsed
Speaker 1: and fell into a heavy sleep, and lay there motionless,
Speaker 1: hardly breathing. Missus Wilton put some notes on the table
Speaker 1: and stole out on tiptoe. She seemed to remember that downstairs,
Speaker 1: in the dark shop, the dealer with the waxen face
Speaker 1: detained her to show some old silver and jewelry and
Speaker 1: such like, But she did not come to herself. She
Speaker 1: had no precise recollection of anything till she found herself
Speaker 1: entering a church near Portland Place. It was an unlikely
Speaker 1: act in her normal moments. Why did she go in there?
Speaker 1: She acted like one walking in her sleep. The church
Speaker 1: was old and dim, with high black pews. There was
Speaker 1: nobody there. Missus Wilton sat down in one of the
Speaker 1: pews and bent forward with her face in her hands.
Speaker 1: After a few minutes she saw that a soldier had
Speaker 1: come in noiselessly and placed himself about half a dozen
Speaker 1: rows ahead of her. He never turned round, but presently
Speaker 1: she was struck by something familiar in the figure. First
Speaker 1: she thought vaguely that the soldier looked like her hue.
Speaker 1: Then when he put up his hand, she saw who
Speaker 1: it was. She hurried out of the pew and ran
Speaker 1: towards him. Oh, Hugh, Hugh, have you come back. He
Speaker 1: looked round with a smile. He had not been killed.
Speaker 1: It was all a mistake. He was going to speak.
Speaker 1: Footsteps sounded hollow in the empty church. She turned and
Speaker 1: glanced down the dim aisle. There was an old sexton
Speaker 1: or verger, who approached. I thought I heard you call,
Speaker 1: he said, I was speaking to my husband. But Hugh
Speaker 1: was nowhere to be seen. He was here a moment ago.
Speaker 1: She looked about in anguish. He must have gone to
Speaker 1: the door. There's nobody here, said the old man gently,
Speaker 1: only you and me. Ladies are often taken funny since
Speaker 1: the war. There was one in here yesterday afternoon. Said
Speaker 1: she was married in this church, and her husband had
Speaker 1: promised to meet her here. Perhaps you were married here, No,
Speaker 1: said missus Wilton, desolately. I was married in India. It
Speaker 1: might have been two or three days after that when
Speaker 1: she went into a small Italian restaurant in the Bayswater district.
Speaker 1: She often went out for her meals. Now she developed
Speaker 1: an exhausting cough, and she found that it somehow became
Speaker 1: less troublesome when she was in a public place looking
Speaker 1: at strange faces. In her flat there were all the
Speaker 1: things that Hugh had used. The trunks and bags still
Speaker 1: had his name on them, with the labels of places
Speaker 1: where they'd been together. They were like stabs. In the restaurant,
Speaker 1: people came and went, many soldiers too, among them, just
Speaker 1: glancing at her in her corner. This day, as it chanced,
Speaker 1: she was rather late and there was nobody there. She
Speaker 1: was very tired. She nibbled at the food they brought her.
Speaker 1: She could almost have cried from tiredness and loneliness and
Speaker 1: the ache in her heart. Then suddenly he was before her,
Speaker 1: sitting there opposite at the table. It was as it
Speaker 1: was in the days of their engagement, when they used
Speaker 1: sometimes to lunch at restaurants. He was not in uniform.
Speaker 1: He smiled at her and urged her to eat, just
Speaker 1: as he used to in those days. I met her
Speaker 1: that afternoon as she was crossing Kensington Gardens. She told
Speaker 1: me about it. I have been with Hugh. She seemed
Speaker 1: most happy. Did he say anything, No, Yes, I think
Speaker 1: he did, but I could not quite hear, my head
Speaker 1: was so very tired the next time. I did not
Speaker 1: see her for some time after that. She found, I
Speaker 1: think that by going to places where she had once
Speaker 1: seen him, the old church, the little restaurant, she was
Speaker 1: more certain to see him again. She never saw him
Speaker 1: at home, but in the street or the park, he
Speaker 1: would often walk along beside her. Once he saved her
Speaker 1: from being run over. She said she actually felt his
Speaker 1: hand grabbing her arm suddenly, when the car was nearly
Speaker 1: upon her. She had given me the address of the clairvoyant.
Speaker 1: And it is through that strange woman that I know,
Speaker 1: or seemed to know, what followed. Missus Wilton was not
Speaker 1: exactly ill last winter, not so ill at least as
Speaker 1: to keep to her bedroom. But she was very thin,
Speaker 1: and her great handsome eyes always seemed to be staring
Speaker 1: at some point beyond searching. There was a look in
Speaker 1: them that seamen's eyes sometimes have when they are drawing
Speaker 1: on a coast of which they are not very certain.
Speaker 1: She lived almost in solitude. She hardly ever saw anybody,
Speaker 1: except when they sought her out. To those who were
Speaker 1: anxious about her, she laughed and said she was very well.
Speaker 1: One sunny morning, she was lying awake waiting for the
Speaker 1: maid to bring her tea. The shy London sunlight peeped
Speaker 1: through the blinds. The room had a fresh and happy look.
Speaker 1: When she heard the door open, she thought that the
Speaker 1: maid had come in. Then she saw that Hugh was
Speaker 1: standing at the foot of the bed. He was in
Speaker 1: uniform this time, and looked as he had looked the
Speaker 1: day he went away. Oh, Hugh, speak to me, Will
Speaker 1: you not say just one word? He smiled and threw
Speaker 1: back his head, just as he used to in the
Speaker 1: old days at her mother's house. When he wanted to
Speaker 1: call her out of the room without attracting the attention
Speaker 1: of the others, He moved towards the door, still signing
Speaker 1: to her to follow him. He picked up her slippers
Speaker 1: on his way and held them out to her as
Speaker 1: if he wanted her to put them on. She slipped
Speaker 1: out of bed hastily. It is strange that when they
Speaker 1: came to look through her things after her death, the
Speaker 1: slippers could never be found. End of the interval