The Circle by Elaine Feinstein Page A

mounting desire was just a pretence. And though she played with him, wanting to help because after all they had arranged it, she hated him. It went on so long .And afterwards she could never bear to see him again.
    *
    Why should she think of that? Coming in to find Eli, reading on her bed? When he heard her enter he stood up, a bit awkwardly, their eyes meeting and moving oddly. Perhaps he too was reading for her expectations? And perhaps with the same alarm? So she said nothing, stood there, looked at him. He was very young, and very proud. And she wondered: do I look like a lecherous old woman? She bit her lip.
    He smiled.
    –Goodnight, he said quickly.
    She was overcome with relief.
    –Goodnight.
    And he was gone. She went and sat where he had on the bed, the warmth of his body still in the blankets her whole body bathed in a light perspiration as though she had just escaped from an enemy. She was shaking all over. With cold.
    –Come on, she told herself, get into bed. Bloody fool bloody fool. And at last did so. For a while she stared up at the white ceiling, her mind almost as blank as that surface just lying and staring, having no thoughts at all. Then quite abruptly fell asleep.
    For the first time in the weeks since she had known him he did not figure in her dreams.
    *
    –Mum’s back.
    –Hello. What have you brought us?
    Lena looked strangely at the children; perhaps their eyes were always so dark or perhaps she had not looked closely enough lately. Now she was overcome with a sense of their fragility, their vulnerability. To gas-fire and oil-stove and traffic.
    –Were you. Careful. Crossing the roads darling?
    –Course. Hey, Mum, we went swimming yesterday with the boys over the road.
    –How lovely, she said. But her heart turned, stupidly, at the thought of it, their thin bodies in the green water: all there was of their lives to come so dependent on the survival of those two slight bodies. She clutched them to her.
    –I hope you didn’t go out of your depth.
    –Well.
    –Now Alan, I know you can swim but, her voice trailedoff. She was tired. And it was cruel to worry them, uselessly.
    –Come and sit down. Tell me. What else have you been doing. Michael?
    –Nothing much. He shrugged, his eyes on the coloured package she was carrying.
    –I got you. Some books. And crayons. She fished about a bit in the bag, wishing she’d spent a little longer choosing.
    –Can I have the carrier bag? asked Michael.
    –And some sweets. Yes, of course you can, she kissed him.
    –Great. Lovely. They seemed so pleased she felt utterly miserable. Watching them. Their hands, their bony shoulders under the tee-shirts. They moved her close to tears she could not have said why.
    *
    Ben was back early. She hadn’t yet made any food or bought much in from the shops and she watched him poke in the empty pantry, and come out empty-handed .
    –I just got back, she said defensively.
    –I gathered that, he said. And took down a tin of soup.
    –Where the hell is the tin opener?
    –Oh God. She flung open two drawers both full of cutlery. It must be in here.
    –Good.
    –Or else in the kitchen. I’ll have a look.
    –Is it there?
    –No, she admitted.
    He put back the tin. I don’t suppose there’s anything else.
    –Cheese, she suggested.
    –How was London?
    –Oh. Good.    Not bad, anyway.
    He waited.
    –I mean it was just fun moving around London, you know. She was chopping some salad and he took some with his fingers.
    –I don’t think the potatoes are cooked yet, she said.
    –Never mind    I can wait.    Go on.    Tell me about it.
    She bent carefully over the oven.
    –Like I said it was fun. There were a lot of people and we sat and drank in a pub. I couldn’t bear the Russian bloke.
    –And Eli?
    –Fine. He. (She turned the meat) Had to stay over at Danny’s too.
    He looked at her: Ah, he said.
    –Now what does that mean?
    –You didn’t mention that on the phone.
    –Well. He was in the room. She