Free Back by Henry Green

her feet.
    He heard this right enough, but thought she was joking. When he shakily sat up to be fetched a kiss, he found she was gone, that she was next door in the kitchen.
    He dragged himself off the floor, and sat on a chair because he did not feel so good. He was empty, and ill, and the room began going round once more, with the cat, which had come back. Still, he found he could focus after a few minutes. He watched it settle down opposite, start to wipe the side of its mouth.
    Then he watched the opening to the kitchen. He thought he was stronger, and he had so much to ask Rose he did not know where to begin.
    She came back with two cups of tea. Except for the hair, which was black, she was now exactly like again.
    “I was only making myself one when you came,” she said. He half rose, but his hands shook so badly she put his down on the table.
    “Doesn’t seem possible,” he started. He stopped. There was something he could not fathom in her face, as she watched over the rim of her cup.
    “What exactly is the matter with you?” she asked.
    Then he knew what it was. She was an enemy. She couldn’t have heard about him. She thought he had given her up. Everything must come all right. But he dreaded it so, that he could not bring himself to speak.
    “How you people manage to dress as you do,” she said, in a hard voice, at his city suit. He thought “Oh what have I done?She’s out of her mind.” His mouth went dry as he realized, next, that she was completely self-possessed. He reached for his cup. He did not know how he would be able to lift this. He tried to take heart because she had given him a saucer with it.
    “That’s right. Drink that, then go,” she said.
    “My God,” he said as he dropped it. He had been afraid he would. “Now look what you’ve done,” she said, and rushed out into the kitchen for a dish cloth. “Here,” she said, throwing this. He mopped at his trousers. “And what about my covers?” she asked. He stumbled to his feet, began dabbing at the chair.
    “Rose,” he said low, his back still turned to her.
    “What’s rose?” she asked frantic.
    Then he had another thought. That she’d lost her memory, same as her mother. He knew he must take things slowly. He worked on the chair.
    “Think it’s all right now. Terribly sorry,” he said.
    “I don’t know what to make of you,” she complained, but in an easier voice. The suit had taken all he had spilt.
    “Careless of me,” he said, with such a hang dog look she must have felt sorry. Perhaps it was to hide this up that she said, “I expect there’ll be a drop left in the pot.”
    He sat on. When she came back with another cup, this time without a saucer, he said,
    “I’ll get you a replacement.”
    For a moment she did not understand this phrase, which came from the jargon of production engineers, but as soon as she realized he meant to buy her a cup and saucer in place of what he had just broken, she put her foot down hard.
    “You won’t, thank you,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you in here a second time, thanks very much. Not to get to be a habit. I’d never have done this, only I happened to know Mr Middlewitch was in across the landing.”
    “Middlewitch?” He spoke out in real horror.
    “Now then,” she said, beginning to look frightened.
    “Middlewitch?” he repeated, absolutely bewildered.
    “Just because I give you the name of someone who lives in these digs, don’t you start wondering if you’ll strike lucky twice,” she said.
    “Me strike lucky?” he mumbled.
    “It’s rationed now, you know,” she insisted.
    This was too much. He almost laughed he was so frantic.
    “That’s rich,” he said.
    “What’s rich?” she wanted to know. “And cups aren’t easy to come by these days, either,” she went on, “though I’m not accepting anything from strange men, you can be sure of that,” she said.
    She sat there, looking. She was cold, cold with hostility.
    “Middlewitch, who’s