by Iris Murdoch
‘He didn’t want me,’ she said of Tuan, ‘I knew he wouldn’t want me, he would soon have told them, Benet and -them all.’
Half lying upon the bed, half undressed, her face distorted, she seemed like a wounded animal in her moaning repetitions. She was attempting to pull up the sheets, clutching them with one hand, leaning back on the pillow.
‘Nobody wants me. I have destroyed my being, I am nothing, nothing. Can’t you see? I can’t stay here with you. You are very kind but you want to get rid of me, you have to. I came here only to get away - now I’ll be moving on -’
‘No you won’t, I won’t letyou! I’ll find you somewhere safe, I won’t let you wander away - perhaps you’ll let me talk. to someone -!’
‘No, no, no!’
‘But, Marian, you must realise that you have done nothing wrong - ’
‘How can you say that, I have done everything wrong, I am like a — like a spiteful rat - everyone will - oh I don’t know - want to kill me, I must be killed - ’
‘Marian, stop this nonsense! You decided that you did not want to marry - if you had married then against your own will and reason that would have been wrong, for both of you, Edward does not hate you or blame you -’
‘Edward hates me. Everybody hates me. There has been a terrible dreadful wound, a huge bleeding scar, I must go. It was wrong of me to come here. I’ll only harm you if I stay. I am mad. Benet may come. I’ll just - tidy myself - and then I’ll - go - I’ll disappear—’
Sitting on the side of the bed, holding her breasts, she was sobbing, and trying to choke her sobs. Jackson thought, of course I will not let her disappear. But where can I take her to where she will really be safe? She may actually recover, perhaps quite soon, or - now I must keep my head. Shall or shall I not show her that piece of paper?
He said, ‘Tidy yourself, yes, disappear, no! Oh do stop! You must get dressed. Have you eaten anything here, no? Then we’ll both eat, I’m hungry too. Benet is away at Penn, he’s staying there for several more days, he won’t disturb us.’ This was a wild guess.
He left her alone for a while, closing the bedroom door, locking the front door, and tactfully closing the kitchen door, leaving access to the bathroom. He suddenly felt something ‘coming over’ him, like a dark cloud, of course tiredness, but something more. He started shaking his head like a horse. A loss of identity. He looked at the telephone. He seized it and rang Tuan’s number. As soon as Tuan made a sound he whispered, ‘She’s OK. Keep quiet,’ and put down the receiver. Then he silenced the telephone. Then he thought, is that wise? Then shaking himself again he set about rapidly putting together something like a breakfast, bread, butter, marmalade, milk, coffee, but of course it wasn’t breakfast, it would be, wouldn’t it, more like tea. He put out chocolate biscuits and a currant cake. He listened, then said, ‘Hello.’ She emerged from the bedroom wearing the dark red cotton dress with white collar which she had been wearing at Tuan’s flat. What had she been wearing when he saw her, so few minutes ago? He could only partly remember, he could recall a black petticoat, a brassière showing, dark stockings, the red dress upon the floor. He felt a terrible anguish. What on earth could he do for her now? He smiled, bowed like a waiter indicating a chair. She sat down, staring up at him. She had powdered her face and combed her hair.
‘Breakfast is served! You like coffee?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you like some bacon? It wouldn’t take a moment.’ He had forgotten that.
‘No, no! Just coffee. I’ve got to be going anyway. I mustn’t stay here.’
‘I shall be going with you. Please eat something. Look, I’ll put some butter and marmalade on that bread.’
He stood, dealing with the bread and marmalade. At least she did not object. She sipped coffee.
There was a strange smell in the kitchen, the smell that had been in the bedroom. He breathed it in thoughtfully, a mixture of sweat and perfume.
She said to him, sipping the coffee, ‘How old are you?’ This startled Jackson. He wondered which of his ages he should most tactfully offer. He said, ‘Forty-three.’
People rarely asked him. He thought of a number. He also recalled, as he always did on these occasions, his first meeting with Uncle Tim, when they looked at each other, when Tim asked him, and then in silence looked again.
She drank half of the coffee, but declined the rest of the breakfast. He looked at her and thought how beautiful she was. He was about to say, how beautiful you are.
She said, ‘Thank you for harbouring me. I will go, I will have to - I must go away, right away, I must disappear, I don’t mean suicide. I have just wrecked my life. I shall have to make a plan. I shall go abroad forever. You cannot realise how desperate I am.’
‘It may help you to say all this, but none of it is real. People have experienced far more terrible things and recovered from them.’
‘Have you experienced such things?’
‘You are not a criminal, you have not done any dreadful deed, just be quiet for a while, go back to Tuan and Rosalind, or stay with Rosalind, no one will blame you, don’t you realise that! I will take you back now, you must rest -’
‘I don’t want to stay with Rosalind, I came to Tuan not Rosalind - all that is over anyway!’
Jackson thought, yes, she was ashamed before Rosalind. ‘Never mind Rosalind. You could just stay with Tuan, he would care - ’
‘No, no, he likes Rosalind, I can’t rest, I won’t destroy myself, I shall just hide, I shall take another name, I shall go far away to a place where no one will find me -’
‘This is all nonsense. I won’t let you disappear! Can’t you just understand about Benet, I could talk to him, I wouldn’t say where you were — ’
‘I have said that I will not see Benet -!’
‘I’m sorry, all right then Mildred, or -’
‘I shall leave this country, oh - you don’t understand what terrible pain is like!’
Jackson thought, I’m getting nowhere with this. Let me try another tack. He said, ‘Listen, Marian, at least answer me some questions truthfully, I mean calmly. You have been speaking of how you have hurt Edward and made him hate you. But Edward does not hate you and you have not really hurt him. I believe that there is someone else too whom you think you have thrown away, who you imagine hates you - is there not such a person?’
Marian flushed. She said, ‘How do you know these things? There is someone else whom I have damaged and who hates me far more than Edward does - that person is a demon and would kill me. You see, I am doubly destroyed.’
Jackson took the piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.
On the same day of Benet’s visit, Edward Lannion had returned to London. He was profoundly upset, made even more so by Benet’s clumsy idiotic insinuations, suggesting that perhaps Edward would take Marian back, was already perhaps hiding her somewhere or then, put off that track, that he, having hurt Marian, might like to take up Rosalind instead! Benet’s attentive sympathetic eyes, his familiar kindly face, now faintly reminiscent of Uncle Tim, his evident desire to touch Edward, to comfort him and stroke him, made Edward ready to wail with abhorrence. Of course Benet had been so kind to him. But now - and also the tiresome reference to the bridge, and to Spencer, as if tactfully drawing attention to some misdemeanour - all this was too much. For a while Edward stayed in the billiard room, moving round the table, catching the balls by hand and making them move each other. Why had he gone into the billiard room anyway? It was so reminiscent of the past. The sheer dark heaviness of the table suggested the past, the far past, a place where he had been innocent and free, very very long ago. He remembered his father, his father’s gentle solemnity, before the catastrophe. He pictured his dear mother dying, so young, his father weeping, he and his brother crying. His brother drowning. He thought about Marian. Then he drove in his sleek red car very fast to London, put the car in the garage, then walked about, stopping and staring blindly at things, avoiding certain places,
then driven by hunger to a little Italian restaurant which he had not seen before where he ate little, realising it must by now be at least the afternoon. From the terrible moment of Marian’s communication, and indeed before that, yes well before that, Edward had struggled secretly and silently with his great dark demon. He had drowned Randall, failed Marian, perhaps killed Marian, and there was another hideous fault, an old fault which he could not remedy and which might well finally drive him to suicide. He could see no possible road, even one far far ahead, which could lead him to happiness. Happiness! Not to joy, not even to continued sanity. There was only one thing which he might do, one real thing, but it was now more and more clear that he would not do it. He paid the bill and walked out into the warmth, among the colourful crowds who jostled him in friendly ways. He passed noisy jolly pubs, their doorways wide open, spilling onto pavements, somewhere, perhaps in some park, birds were singing, the rich sky hung cloudless, there would be no dark, was not that the evening star? He blundered on, feeling that he would fall. He was lost. At last he took a taxi, returning to his house, to solitude and nightmare.
When Jackson had handed Marian the piece of paper he had not known what response to expect to Cantor’s message. Marian I love you please please come back to me, please marry me. They had been sitting at the kitchen table opposite to each other. She was determined to go away forever, she had dreadfully hurt Edward, he hated her, she hated him, no, she would not see Tuan, she would not see Rosalind, or Mildred or Benet! It was after this that Jackson had tried to conjure up ‘the other’, at least hoping for some kind of clement change. This did not occur.
Marian read the message, she read it twice as if calmly, then tore it in two and threw it on the floor whence Jackson retrieved it. She said nothing, looking at Jackson with a tense savage coldness, he saw her teeth chattering, he saw them bared.
He said awkwardly, ‘You know his writing.’
‘Of course!’
‘But don’t you believe what he has written?’
‘No, it’s nothing, nothing— ’
‘You think - well, what - a sort of trap?’
‘He hates me, I hate him, all that is over. You don’t know what he’s done, you don’t know what I’ve done, you don’t understand how far far away I am now -’
‘Marian,’ said Jackson, ‘don’t be angry with me. Listen, I have been to see Cantor, I have talked to him -’
‘You went to see him? How did you find this, he gave it to you -?’
‘Of course he did, where else did I get the message from -?’
‘You have met him, you have seen him, you have talked about me, do you think that pleases me - I detest it - do you think I’ll run to him just after that? Everyone is cruel to me, everything is mad, mad, mad -!’
‘Oh Marian, don’t cry please— ’
‘Don’t you see that I hate myself -’
‘No, no, you mustn’t, you don’t, you must believe, you must go where love is, this is a truthful message, do have hope, he loves you, I know he does - ’
‘I have destroyed everything around me, everyone despises me, even if they try to be kind they despise me, you despise me, I hate it all -’
‘All right, suppose I drive you to Mildred, or to Elizabeth -’
‘I don’t want to see them, I hate them - oh Jackson, help me, help me -’
‘I’ll stay with you, I’ll be with you.’ But what on earth can I do, he thought, I am so tired. He wondered if he were actually falling asleep. He moved his chair round the table and put his arm round her shoulder, holding on to her white collar and gripping the fabric of her summer dress. For a moment she yielded, leaning her head down, then stiffly moving away. Tears were coming down her cheeks, she touched them with the back of her hand.
‘I stayed in a hotel then,’ she said, ‘I’ll find somewhere. I can get money from my bank. I’m going to leave the country as quickly as possible. Thank you, thank you, I must go now, now — ’
‘Wait,’ he said, ‘I’ll go with you, I know a little quiet place, a lodging house, no one comes, I’ll take you there, you could be quiet - let’s go now - ’
He led her, holding her hand, carrying her suitcase, looking anxiously at the house, out of the garden and through the side door by the garage and out into the street. He hurried along, pulling her after him, until he found a taxi.
‘You’re sure no one will find me?’
‘Yes yes. I’ll come tomorrow -’
‘Oh Jackson - in so little time — I have destroyed my life -’
‘All will be well with you, my dear dear girl -’
In the taxi he sat sideways looking at her, touching her, touching her face, kissing her hand.
‘It’s a little secret place, I know it, it’s flats, all separate, I’ll come along tomorrow!’
They got out of the taxi, Jackson paid the fare. Holding her wrist he led her towards the house. He pressed the bell for flat number three.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s me - I’ve got a friend - can I come up?’
‘Yes!’
‘Good - just leave the doors open.’ He said to Marian, ‘It’s just up the stairs, don’t worry.’
Cantor left the upstairs, doors open. Jackson entered first, leading Marian. Then he released her, dropped her suitcase, and stepped back.
Cantor was standing in front of his desk. When he saw Marian he opened his arms. When she saw him she gave a loud cry and would have fallen to the floor had he not caught her in his embrace. She did not struggle.
Jackson stayed a moment or two, then closed the door on the landing and hurried down the stairs. Another job accomplished. Or was it? Would she come running back? Or would she simply run away and get lost again? He felt exhausted. He had had no sleep since - since when? He realised that it was now evening. It was very hot. He couldn’t find a taxi for some time, and had to walk most of the way back to Tara.
Jackson, at a little distance from the house, approached cautiously. Had Benet returned? No car visible, perhaps in the garage, no. He went up the steps and in at the front door. He walked about. No, Benet had not returned. He became conscious of the terrible exhaustion, how dreadfully tired he was - in the old days he had been able to carry on day and night! He was also very hungry. He went into the kitchen. He went into the larder. He sat down at the table. He ate some bread and butter, he sipped a little white wine from an almost empty bottle in the fridge. He very rarely drank alcohol. Was he celebrating his success with Marian? Ah, but was it a success? He must wait until tomorrow. He thought of ringing Tuan, but that too had better be left till tomorrow. He looked at the unseemly chaos upon the table. He appeared to be dozing. He got up. He would feel better soon. He went into the drawing room and sat down upon the sofa.
Benet left Penndean early in the morning. Yesterday had been hot, today was to be hotter. He had rung Edward on the previous evening ‘to cheer him up’ but Montague had told him that Edward had gone to London. He rang Edward’s London address in the evening and when leaving in the morning but without any answer. He felt depressed and irritated. He had also rung Tuan in the evening, hoping to find someone at home, but Tuan sounded rather confused and hasty, perhaps about to go out. He rang Rosalind who seemed to be rather tearful and incoherent. He rang Anna, but she was out and Bran answered the telephone rather curtly with a French accent, put on, Benet thought. Of course there was no news of Marian.
He reached Tara early, although he had been briefly detained by a queue just entering London. The sun was already becoming extremely hot. He put the car into the garage, then mounted the steps at the door of the house. He opened the door. A waft of loneliness and sadness came to him. He thought of Marian lying dead in some dim rented room, he thought of Anna’s wild tears, what did they mean, Rosalind’s tears, Edward’s awful coldness, his dreadful hatred. ‘I hate her now, I hate everybody.’ He moved slowly across the hall, peering into the various rooms. He noticed a deplorable disorder in the kitchen and paused. He was
increasingly conscious of a rift between himself and Jackson. Who did Jackson think he belonged to anyway? He seemed to be always away, helping everybody but Benet! Perhaps Benet had better ‘hand him over’! Benet had purposely refrained from ringing him up, so as to find him out in some sort of ignominy! Benet felt a little ashamed of this, on his part, a lack of trust. But really things were, were they not, going a bit too far! He wandered slowly out of the kitchen, back into the hall.
The sun was shining, it was very hot, he took his jacket off and undid his shirt. Where was Jackson anyway? Perhaps he was doing something in the garden. He went down, and out of the back door. No sign of Jackson. How beautifully warm and sunny it was. It was early. Perhaps Jackson had gone out shopping. Benet made for the Lodge. The sun was striking the back of his neck, and he put up his hand to protect it. He knocked, then opened the door. Silence. He called out, then entered the kitchen. He was shocked to see upon the table another scene of disorder. Also there was a strange smell. He crossed the kitchen and threw open the door of the bedroom. What he saw appalled him. The little room was in total chaos. The bed dragged about, the mattress visibly dislodged, the sheets hanging down, the blankets tangled in a knot upon the floor. He stood still, breathing deeply, gasping. There was a strange nauseating smell. It looked as if there had been some sort of struggle - animals, or people - fighting - making love - horrified, he closed the door, trying to think. In the kitchen the table seemed to have been for two. What had Jackson been up to in the Lodge? He might have had some, any, woman there. Or a manl Benet quickly moved out into the sunshine. He felt like weeping or shouting. Whatever it was, Jackson had been wantonly deceiving him. How could he have been so idiotic, so wanton, so stupid, as to leave these traces behind! Where was he now, was it possible that he had a man friend? Benet returned to the house. He stood for a while in the hall, trying to work out the senseless madness of the whole situation.
