Free Back by Henry Green Page A

with the C.E.G.S.?” he asked, clutching at the straw, but suspicious.
    “You drink yours up, then go.”
    “Not before you tell me if it’s the same.”
    There was a long pause while he watched her. He could tell nothing new from her face.
    “I wouldn’t know,” she said at last, but so cautiously that he could tell it was the very same.
    He put his cup down with care. His hands were much steadier. Middlewitch was something to hang on to.
    “Don’t you know me at all?” he asked. Putting this question, however, was so dreadful that he again began to tremble all over.
    “Now, don’t you start,” she said. She looked really frightened.
    “Oh dear,” he said. There was another pause.
    “D’you do this for a living, then?” she began, almost as though to give herself confidence by making awkward conversation. But he gave no answer.
    “It’s getting cold,” she said of his tea, it must have been to hurry him up. “I’m telling you.”
    “I’ve seen Ridley, Rose,” he said. He watched her as he spoke, as a dog sits up for a bone.
    “There you go, more riddles. And who’s Ridley?”
    He looked at her idiotically.
    “Don’t stare at me,” she said, looking more frightened than ever. Then she gave way. She explained.
    “It’s not the first time,” she said. “Why don’t you take things as they come, and get out of here?”
    “Not the first time?” he echoed, gaining confidence.
    “I’ve had people stop me in the streets. Who hasn’t anyway? I suppose I’ve a double somewhere in this town all right. Though why I’m telling you I can’t think.” She smoothed her skirts.
    “My dear, you’ve lost your memory,” he said, trying to smile.
    She shot out of her seat.
    “Here,” she shouted, “d’you want me to call the police? I’ve had about enough of this. Who d’you take me for? Anyway, why aren’t you in the Army? I’m not your dear. Who d’you fancy I am?” She had gone over by the door, and was holding it open. “Or d’you want me to fetch Mr Middlewitch? He’ll soon make up his mind how to put you to rights.”
    “Yes,” he replied, braving it out, the colour coming back to his face. “He knows me.”
    She bit her thumb.
    “He’s not in,” she said, suddenly like a small girl. “That was to get rid of you.”
    Charley sat down, put his head in his hands, almost defeated now he had won his point.
    “You haven’t been keeping watch here, by any chance?” she asked, as if she were shy. “Until you know who’s in and out? Oh, you’re a worry. Now will you go?”
    He sat there hiding his face.
    “Now what?” she said.
    “You say you’ve been mistaken for someone?” he slowly asked.
    “Well, who hasn’t?” she said, half on the landing.
    “Lately?” he asked.
    “No,” she said, “not for ages.”
    He looked at her again. He became excited.
    “That’s exactly it,” he said. “That’s what I’m after. So you haven’t been taken for her lately?” What he meant was, it must be all of five years since Rose was said to have died, in which time she could have been forgotten. It did not make sense, but he hung on to it.
    “What’s that got to do with me? And who are you any way?” Yet she shut the door, possibly because he looked so queer, and came back in the flat. “It’s I should be making enquiries about you, I fancy,” she said in a strong voice. “Coming in here, fainting right in my arms. I shouldn’t wonder if I hadn’t strained my side when I tried to lift you.” She came right up to him. He could not bear her near, like this. He hid his face a second time.
    “Oh Rose,” he mumbled, “how could you?”
    “Here we go once more,” she said bright. “What did you say your name was?”
    But he made no reply.
    “I’ll have a real laugh with mum over this.”
    “You won’t,” he said.
    “That’s the limit,” she said, loud. “Look I’m fed up, thanks.” She moved away from him impatiently. “Will you stop telling me? Who