Seven Days in New Crete (Penguin Modern Classics) by Robert Graves Page B

darling, I must know what you’re doing here.’
    ‘Me? Nothing especially. I live in this village, that’s all.
    ‘How long have you been here?’
    ‘Oh, for years and years, off and on.
    ‘What’s your name now?’
    ‘Erica Yvonne Turner, of course; only I never use the Yvonne.’
    ‘Except as an
alias
in divorce cases.’
    ‘You beast! I didn’t know you’d followed my career with such attention. But they don’t have divorce courts here.’
    ‘No. I suppose not. Lucky you! What estate do you belong to?’
    She glared at me. ‘Estate? Estate! Don’t ever again use that word in my hearing or I’ll scream.’
    ‘Why shouldn’t I? Surely, if you live here you’re bound to belong to one estate or another!’
    She stuck out her chin and let out a long, piercing scream, like an express train coming out of a tunnel. I might have known she would.
    ‘Stop it, for God’s sake, stop it at once, you little fool! You’ll get us both into trouble.’ I put my hand roughly over her mouth. She stopped at once and began to laugh.
    ‘Teddy, do you remember that time at Ronda when I said I’d smash the gold wrist-watch you’d just given me if you ever laughed at another of your own jokes?’
    ‘I do. And I did laugh at one, and you did smash it. And that annoyed me so much I threw you on the bed and wrestled with you and banged your head against the wall, time after time.’
    ‘And I cut your wrist with a piece of watch glass and you nearly bled to death.’
    ‘I wouldn’t have cared if I had bled to death. Or if I’d brained you, either. I’ve never felt more furiously miserable in my life…’
    ‘Stop pitying yourself, idiot… Tell me, how do you like this place?’
    ‘I was liking it very much, on the whole, until you turned up and complicated things. The life here’s a little too good to be true, of course.’
    ‘I’m glad to hear you say that. What do you think of the men?’
    ‘They remind me vaguely of Jane Austen’s heroes. Something card-boardy about them. Or – I know – the bigger boys in a co-educational school.’
    ‘I don’t know whether you remember that I went to a co-ed school in Switzerland. I was the head-girl –’
    ‘Exactly, that’s what made me mention your victims. Wherever women have perfect liberty to drink men’s blood out of skull-goblets…’
    ‘As they do here, you mean?’
    ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
    ‘Ah, of course. This is a women’s world, and that’s why I’m here.’
    ‘Those poets – Starfish and Fig-bread – what sort of poems do they write?’
    ‘Punk. Even your stuff’s brilliant compared with theirs. But tell me, how do you get on with Sally?’
    ‘Not too well. She’s got something against me, I think.’
    ‘Has she asked you any awkward questions yet?’
    ‘Only one. She wanted to know with how many women I’d slept in my life.’
    ‘Did you mention Erica Turner, by any chance?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘That was very gentlemanly of you. But why not?’
    ‘I mentioned no names at all. I thought her question was in deplorable taste.’
    ‘You mean: because Sally’s in love with you and madly jealous of Sapphire?’
    ‘You’re talking nonsense, Erica, you know you are! Women here don’t get jealous, or if they do they don’t show it.’
    ‘Did I ever lie to you, Teddy?’
    ‘Often, but only by evasions and half-truths – I suppose you didn’t need to waste your real lies on me. But you’re not serious about Sally and Sapphire?’
    ‘Certainly. It’s a fact. Ask Sally if it isn’t.’
    ‘I shall do nothing of the sort. How do you know what her feelings are, anyway?’
    ‘Oh, my spies are everywhere and I get about a good deal myself. But look here, Teddy, there’s no time for any more talk now. You must go back at once – that’s the bell ringing for lunch. I’ll be seeing you. No, I won’t come over for a day or two, it might cramp your style. But you know where to find me.
    She pulled my head down, gave me a brief