sleep.
At a little after ten, a hood in motorcycle gear materialized.
Ted's anxiety turned quickly to relief when he discovered
it was Janie's boyfriend Nick, a third-year student reading medicine at Trinity. She hurried for her helmet and they zoomed off toward The Perch for one quick drink before repairing to
his rooms.
Ted and Felicity were alone.
He looked at her and wondered if she sensed his hunger for that youthful body. -
"I'll help clear up," he offered gallantly.
"Thanks." -For an instant, he felt panicked and uncertain. Ted was
suddenly aware that he had not touched another woman for nearly a decade.
How do you start this sort of thing?
As she was piling dirty dishes in the sink, he moved
behind her and tentatively placed his arms around her waist. She took his hands and moved them up to clasp her breasts. Then, without further words, she turned and joined him in a fiery embrace.
Ted got home after midnight. As he slipped into bed, Sara stirred and murmured, "How did it go, honey?"
"Not bad," he answered quietly. She fell asleep again. He remained awake for a long time and pondered the significance of what he had begun that night.
The next day at breakfast-and at many meals thereafter-
Ted kept wondering if it showed. Could Sara, who understood him so well, read his face, deciphering the hieroglyphics of his guilt?
He felt noblesse oblige to show her amorous attention. He tried making love to her with increased ardor. But gradually he grew resentful of this obligation to display connubial affection.
Sure, Sara deserved respect. She was a loyal wife. The mother of his son. And a true friend. But she was not exciting. Not merely now, when she had let herself put on some weight. But as far as he recalled, she had never been
that sensual.
Perhaps that was what had so drawn him to Felicity. She awakened in him dormant feelings he had thought forever gone. She was dynamic. Not just physically, but intellectually.
And there was something else, although Ted did not realize it at first. The greatest -thrill of all was that it was . illicit.
After a while, he reassured himself that Sara had not noticed anything. Still, her very presence was an
inconvenience. Assignations with Felicity had to be scheduled for afternoons or early evenings. Only rarely could they meet at night.
Once he fabricated yet another college banquet. And Sara, faithful, trusting (boring), never even checked. Even her naive passivity started to annoy him. -
Felicity kept urging him to spend a weekend with her. But what pretext could he find? Oxford functions seemed to shut down automatically on Saturday and Sunday.
Then Fate flashed him an amber light, suggesting he go forward-but with caution.
Philip Harrison '33, currently a high executive of the
U.S. International Banking Commission, arrived in London on a ten-day visit for the government. Generous as usual, he took
a suite at Claridge's next to his own, so that his daughter, son-in-law, and beloved grandson could enjoy a break from academic tedium.
As soon as her father had announced his visit, Sara began
to check the theater listings in The Times. While her husband looked for a plausible excuse to free himself to spend the weekend driving through the romantic villages of
Gloucester-shire.
Then he and Felicity could spend entire evenings in one of
the historic Cotswold inns. And make some history themselves.
Sara Lambros was happy to be staying at Claridge's. Not that she particularly enjoyed elegant hotels, but quite simply because she reveled in the central heating.
And the warmth of her father's love.
Philip Harrison could not help mentioning that his
daughter looked pale. Her fire, he thought, was burning low. Indeed, it seemed as if her pilot light was all but
extinguished. Sara blamed the frigid Oxford weather. And yet how could she explain the thct that Ted looked radiant?
She argued that hard work obviously agreed with him. She recounted his triumph with the Philological Society and little
Ted's success at the local primary school. Now he'd taken up soccer. -
"You're a real little jock, aren't you?" his grandfather said, smiling affectionately.
"And he's not too bad at Latin either," Sara added proudly. "The English really start them early."
"I guess they're still culturally more advanced than we
are, her father observed. "Their theater certainly is. I had to
resort to my contacts at the Embassy just to get us four seats
- to Olivier's Othello
Oh, Daddy, I've been dying to see it. When are we going?"
"The best I could do was the Saturday matinee."
"Oh gosh," Ted responded anxiously, "Saturday's -gonna be a problem for me. You know I've almost finished the first draft of my Euripides book...."
"Yes, Sara told me. Congratulations." -
"Well, Cameron Wylie called me -last night and said he wanted to spend the whole weekend going over it with me. I didn't even have a chance to mention it to Sara."
"Oh, Daddy," little Ted complained, "I like it here in
London."
"Well, you can stay with Mummy and Grandpa," he reassured his son. And then turned to Mr. Harrison. "I'm really sorry, but it was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up. Don't you agree, honey?"
Though deeply hurt, she was forced to play the reluctant accomplice.
"I guess Ted's right," she said loyally. "How long will you be gone?"
"Oh, don't worry, I'll be back in London in time for dinner Sunday night." -
The seven-hundred-year-old George Inn in the Cotswold town
of Winchcombe was once used by pilgrims to St. Kenelm's tomb.
This weekend it was playing host to a twentieth-century couple on an extremely secular journey. -
"What do you think?" Felicity asked, as she unpacked a small bottle of vodka and began to pour it into the hotel glasses.
"It's sort of a medieval version of a motel," he answered. Ted felt decidedly uneasy. Wincbcombe was a relatively short drive from Oxford and someone might chance to see them. And more importantly the early pangs of conscience he had felt now blossomed into full-fledged qualms.
He could not silence an inner voice that kept reiterating, Lambros, what you're doing's called adultery. And it's a sin.
- You have a wife and kid. And what about those sacred vows you took?
Ah yes, but that was long ago. And in another country.
- And besides, the wench has changed. And dammit, the times have changed as well. -
"Ted, where are you?"
Felicity's voice shattered his ethical reverie. And for the
first time he became aware that her hands were exploring intimate areas of his anatomy.
"Are you having second thoughts-or cold feet?" she inquired coquettishly.
"Neither," he replied, to convince her if not himself.
"Hey," she coaxed. "Then will you take your clothes off and give me a little proof of your enthusiasm?"
Zippers glided open. She stood enticingly before him, Aphrodite in a medieval inn.
He could think of nothing else as she now beckoned him to bed.
They drove back Sunday afternoon and reached Oxford just as dai-kness was approaching. And it was not merely chance that made him choose the Folly Bridge for her to drop him,
-so he could wend his way discreetly homeward in the dusk. For throughout their wildly carnal weekend, whenever the ecstasy abated, Ted had been unable to fight off the demons of remorse. Despite inward invocations of the New Morality,
his conscience was still rooted firmly in the fifties. And he already felt that he would have to pay a price for his brief moment of adventure. -
But he never dreamed that it would be so soon.
The moment he opened the door of Addison Crescent, he found the incarnation of the Furies waiting for him.
"You left the house unlocked," said Cameron Wylie, his face half in shadows.
"Yeah," said Ted distractedly. "Uh-I'm sorry I kept you waiting, but I didn't know you were coming-"
"Nor did I," the Regius Professor answered, traces of displeasure in his voice. "I tried ringing you, then came round to leave a note. But then I saw the door was open and 1 assumed you'd be arriving about now. So I waited."
There was a sudden silence. And then Wylie burst out
- angrily, "You bloody fool. You bloody, stupid fool."
"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't understand," Ted stammered, instinctively demoting himself back to pupil's status.
I don't care about your morals, Lambros. I just gave you credit for more common sense. I'll grant adultery's as popular at Oxford as any place on earth. But most of those who
practice it don't play with undergraduates. That girl's nearly half your age."
The sanctimonious dressing-down began to anger Ted. He gathered courage for a quiet counterattack.
"Is that what you came to see me about?"
"No," Wylie responded, "that was just my prologue. Sara rang me, wanting to speak to you."
Oh shit, he thought. I knew I should have telephoned. "She was very apologetic," Wylie continued. "But it was an emergency."
Ted suddenly grew anxious. "Did something happen to her father?"
"No," Cameron replied. "It's your son. He was taken very ill. They rushed him into hospital. When Sara phoned she was at her wit's end."
A shiver chilled Ted to the core. "Is he-alive?" He looked at Wylie, his eyes pleading for an answer.
"He'll be all right. You've missed the worst of it. Fortunately, she had her father there."
"Where is he? Where's my son?"
"At the children's hospital in Paddington Green." Though
Ted wanted to bolt from the room, something kept him frozen
to the spot. "Does Sara have any idea where I've been?"
"No," answered the professor. "I hardly thought it appropriate." He paused, then added, "I'll leave that to you."
It was Sunday and the trains to London crept like pious snails. And-all the way Ted thought, Suppose he dies before I get there.
He who gave no thought to Christ from one Easter to the next, now started to converse with Him. To negotiate for
little Ted's survival. Please, Lord, I'll pay the price. Take anything from me, but let him live.
His morbid thoughts were not relieved as he rushed through the portals of the hospital. It was bare and ill-lit and, to Ted, seemed ominously empty.
- He found Sara and her father on the second floor outside the Lewis Carroll ward.
"Is he all right?" Ted quickly asked.
"Yes," she answered. "Didn't Wylie tell you everything?"
"No," he replied.
Sara began to recount the story at breakneck speed. As if she had to get it out as quickly as she could. For her own catharsis.
"He woke up last night with an incredibly high fever-
"Over a hundred and five," her father added, as he too relived the painful moments. "Thank God when we got him here the doctor on duty knew exactly what it was. She put him-"
"She?" Ted intruded with atavistic disapproval. And then immediately apologized. "Sorry I stopped you. Please tell me what's wrong."
"Viral pneumonia," Philip Harrison announced. "Calm down, Ted. The big crisis is behind us."
- Damn, he inwardly berated himself. And I wasn't there. Just then Dr. Rama Chatterjee appeared in the distance.
"Here she comes," said Sara. "Maybe we can see Teddie now."
- Ted's confidence in female physicians was not enhanced by the discovery that this one was Indian.
"He's sleeping comfortably," the doctor said with a smile
as she approached, and then addressed the- new arrival. "You must be Professor Lambros. He was asking for you."
"I want to see him now," Ted demanded. "And after that I