Jackson's Dilemma

by Iris Murdoch

  The telephone rang. He rushed to it. It was Anna.

  ‘Oh Benet dear, hello, is there any more news?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not - of course I’ll let you know if there are any developments.’

  ‘You rang Bran, didn’t you, I hope he wasn’t naughty or — ’

  ‘No he was very kind - I’ve been hurrying about rather.’

  ‘By the way, I wonder if I could have Jackson for tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Yes, I expect so, he’s not here at the moment, I’ll tell him- in fact, yes, yes, you can have him!’

  ‘Benet, thanks so much, you are an angel, and so is he!’

  Benet put the telephone down. Where was Jackson, just when he was desperately needed! ‘Oh God, I feel so tired,’ he said aloud. He thought he would go into the drawing room and lie down. He could scarcely walk for tiredness. He pulled himself along, pushing open the drawing room door, then closing it behind him. He moved toward the mantelpiece dragging his steps. He put his hand on the back of the sofa and moved forward.

  Then something dreadful. There was some awful thing upon the sofa. It was a man. It was Jackson.

  Benet came round and looked down. Was he dead? No, he was breathing, he looked terrible. He was half clothed, he was fast asleep, and he was apparently drunk.

  Benet bent down and sniffed. Yes, drunk, and deeply asleep. He stood there meditating, looking down upon the heavily slumbering man. How utterly wretched he looked, his jacket crumpled up upon the floor, his shirt undone to the waist, his chest showing, he had not shaved, he looked dirty. He was certainly dead asleep. Benet looked down upon his closed eyes, his long eye-lashes, his dark tangled hair, and sighed.

  Benet went back into the hall and sat down upon a chair. He put his hands upon his face. He sat there for a while breathing slowly.

  At last he reached out and took some paper out of the small table which stood beside the chair, and wrote. What he had written he laid upon the table. He sat still for a while his hands upon his lap, his lips open, his eyes glazed. He fumbled for a large handkerchief in his pocket. He got up quietly and put together some belongings. He left through the front door, closing it gently, and went down the steps. He went to the garage and drove his car out, and returned to Penn. Fortunately there was not much traffic.

  Jackson woke up. He had a headache. He lay still for a while. Where was he? He recalled having taken Marian to Cantor. What became of that? He would have to ring up. Better, just go over. He tried to lift his head. Difficult. Yes, Marian had been with him. He began to sit up. The bright sunlight from the tall windows dazzled his eyes. He fell back again. He thought, the mountains, Tim and the mountains. Messages - that was what Tim saw - just at the last moment - when he said - I see, I see.

  Jackson sat up and looked about. Where was he, in what place, where? Of course he had been with Marian - he closed his eyes. He opened them again. He was in the drawing room at Tara. He listened. Silence. He tried to get up but fell back. He became conscious of a headache. Why on earth was he in the drawing room, sleeping in the drawing room, with all his clothes on? Well, mostly on. The thought rushed into his head - he must have been drunk! After all he had had no sleep for two days and plenty of extremely tiring things to do! He had been in the kitchen and eaten bread and butter, then that little wine, all the same - just as well no one had seen him sprawled out on the sofa! He stood up carefully, then picked up his coat from the floor. The bright sun was dazzling him, he must get out into the hall. He dropped his coat again and began to tidy up the sofa. He was horrified that he had been drunk, which he hardly ever was. Surely no one had been there, impossible. He went out into the hall, went up the stairs, came down again. He thought, I must tidy up the kitchen. I left it in a mess, what a terrible stupid fool I am! Then he thought, shouldn’t I telephone Cantor and find out if it’s all OK, she hasn’t run away again or something. As he approached the telephone he suddenly saw a sheet of paper with writing upon it lying upon the table. He picked it up. It was from Benet.

  Dear Jackson,

  I returned to find you drunk, sleeping in the drawing room. I am sorry to have to say this, but I need as a butler, helper, man-of-all-trades etc., someone who is constant and reliable, not a drunk, and not likely to be always somewhere else. You must know how much anguish we are all suffering. I also believe you have been disgracefully entertaining a woman in the Lodge which I find most objectionable. Moreover: I agreed that you might occasionally, with my permission, do odd jobs for my friends. It now seems that you are constantly to be found in other people’s houses, not in mine. Bluntly, I believe that you have found my establishment rather dull, and found more entertainment elsewhere. There may be some satisfaction, for both of us, that you will have no difficulty in obtaining other employment. I enclose in a nearby envelope your pay for this quarter and for several weeks thereafter. I am now returning to Penn for several days during which you will have time to pack up all your goods and go.

  Yours sincerely

  Benet Barnell

  Beneath this, in a hasty scrawl, was written:

  I am sorry. I trusted you.

  Jackson folded up the sheet of paper and put it in his pocket. He left the pay envelope where it was. Then he stood motionless, looking down, for some time. Then he sighed deeply. What a senseless blunder. A modest amount of wine combined with two days and nights’ constant activity with very little food and without sleep. Of course he was not used to wine. As if that mattered. He uttered a long sobbing sigh. ‘I trusted you.’ Anyway it was true that he had been for some time away from the house. Any point in trying -? No. He moved away from the table. Then he returned: he could at least telephone Cantor. If only that has not also ended in tears!

  He rang. ‘Hello, is that Cantor!’

  ‘It absolutely is Cantor, and Marian is here, and you are the hero! Won’t you come round and see us? You have made us so happy — you really really have - you have rescued us - you must be a magician - wait a moment, Marian -’

  ‘Jackson darling, it’s Marian, it’s really me, I feel I’ve been made into some wonderful absolutely new person, I’ve simply lost my old self, and so quickly, and you did it! It’s like a lot of confused rubbish being suddenly jumped about and made into a perfect being, I mean I thought I had destroyed myself -’

  ‘And me, Cantor, - back to Marian.’

  ‘I know I’ve been awfully bad -’

  ‘No, she hasn’t - Cantor again — ’

  ‘Yes, yes, but really and truly we might have simply lost each other, I was absolutely broken, hating myself and thinking about suicide -’

  ‘So was I - then you appeared like a god, dear Jackson -’

  ‘I’m very very pleased,’ said Jackson. ‘Everyone will be so glad. Will you send the news around, or shall I, or - do you want to keep it quiet for a while -?’

  ‘Well, really we’re off to Australia almost at once, aren’t we, darling.’

  ‘Yes, dear Jackson, Cantor has finished his business -’

  ‘Youare my business, angel.’

  ‘Anyway we’ll be off, and we’d be glad if you would tell them we’ve gone, but of course we shall come back! They won’t murder us, will they?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Jackson. ‘They’ll be delighted, they may even come to see you!’

  ‘I expect we’ve made a bit of a nuisance of ourselves, but they haven’t made much fuss of it, have they?’

  ‘No, they haven’t, they’ve been very sensible, they just wanted to know where you were. I mean you, Marian - ’

  ‘Of course they don’t yet know about me - or do they? I expect they’ve had other things to do!’

  ‘Jackson, dear heart, I know they must have been bothered at first, but you can tell them that we’re sorry to leave so soon -’

  ‘When are you leaving?’

  ‘We’re leaving by plane tomorrow - but we’ll be here again. I shall write a letter to Benet explaining it all - he’s not too bothered is he?’
>
  ‘Oh no, no — ’

  ‘Jackson, do come over here now - ’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ What time is it, he wondered. ‘But oh I am so glad - ’

  ‘Where are you now, by the way?’

  ‘I’m at Tara. Benet is at Penn.’

  ‘Wait a minute - yes darling, yes - Marian thinks she’d better just telephone from the airport, and write later.’

  ‘Whatever you do,’ said Jackson, ‘please don’t bring me in!’

  ‘But you’re the - never mind, all right - Marian will ring - don’ t worry - of course we’ll write to Benet later on, he’s the one, isn’t he, he’ll forgive us, won’t he, we’ll both write — ’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jackson. ‘Please both write.’

  ‘Oh - yes, yes - It will be simple, and we’ll write to you too - where should we send it to, Tara or Penn?’

  Jackson closed his eyes. Oh - dear! He opened his eyes and said, ‘Could you direct the letters for me via Tuan, it will be easier, Benet will be away soon and I - Marian will know, she will give you the address -’

  ‘Who’s Tuan? It’s a lovely name -’

  ‘Look, my dears, I must stop, I’ll think of you both tomorrow up in the air - ’

  ‘But you will come, my dear brother, won’t you, and we’ll be back — ’

  ‘Yes, yes, be well, be happy, you have made me very very glad - don’t forget, when you write to Benet, don’t mention me!’

  Jackson tidied up the kitchen, then he spent some time cleaning up the scene in the Lodge. This was not easy. The bedroom was a tangled wreck. It occurred now with force to Jackson that this had been the picture which had confronted Benet not so long ago. No wonder ... He thought, of course it was all a mistake, what he imagined was not true! Should I not simply stay here and tell him what happened? Well, what did happen? Somehow he could not bear it, to have to explain or apologise or crawl to Benet. Some of what Benet said about his going out to other people’s houses was true, though surely he had almost always told Benet, and asked - Benet was often not interested or away. He had never wasted Benet’s time or in any way cheated him. Well, all this could not be sorted out now. He worked on the scene for some time, he folded things and washed things. A terrible anguish crushed his breast. Everything had come down. He brought out his two large suitcases and filled them up, then, since there was so much left over, emptied them again and filled them carefully, tagging on a few plastic bags. He ran back to the house, looking about him in case he had left anything of his own behind anywhere. He felt he was going mad - so many other matters - he was ready to weep - he pulled himself together. In the Lodge he checked his luggage again. He picked up his coats, then put them down. Where was he going? Ought he to go back into the house? Of course, he would have to lock up everything and leave the keys, he had forgotten that! Also - should he leave any sort of statement, explanation, apology in the hall for Benet to see? No, there was nothing to say.

  He put on his overcoat, slinging his mackintosh over his arm. He lifted up the suitcases, the mackintosh running down over his wrist. He dropped the suitcases. He had pocketed the house keys, but the Lodge keys were hung up in the kitchen. He put the suitcases outside, together with his mackintosh and bags, closed the Lodge door and locked it, picked up the suitcases then began to walk slowly towards the house. He went round to the steps which ran up to the front door. He left the suitcases, bags, and mackintosh beside the gate. He took off his overcoat and dropped it. He went up the steps and let himself in. He went through the hall and down to the lower level and the ‘garden door’. He locked the door and returned to the hall. He laid all the keys down on the table on top of the envelope which contained the pay which Benet had kindly left him! He looked round the hall. He did not look into the drawing room or the kitchen. He went out of the front door closing it carefully behind him. As he went down the steps he heard the telephone ringing inside. Down at the gate he put on his coat, then put on his mackintosh, then, clinging on to the rest of his luggage, made his way out to the road, closing the gate with his foot. He began to walk slowly along the road. Soon he saw a taxi and gave the taxi man the address of a hotel.

  SEVEN

  Tuan, who would normally on that day have gone out, was staying at home in case of telephone calls. It was still quite early morning. He was also so unhappy and so distressed he felt he must hide himself away. He decided to resume his studies of Maimonides but could not concentrate. He walked round and round the room, drawing his hand over the books. His father had been a devout Jew, but not a Jewish scholar. Could he, Tuan, become such a thing as a Jewish scholar? Jewish scholarship, Jewish mysticism? Religious values, mystical values? What is mysticism, can it relate to philosophy? How does all this relate to ‘God’, is there a God - a living God, does that not mean some sort of limited person? The great difference between the Jewish God and the Christian God.

  Distracted, he thought of ringing up Benet. But if he rang him he would have to make some account. Of what? Well, of anything— at present he felt guilty of anything! Something about Marian - but what could he say? Oh if only that grief could be removed. He had been rude and hasty to Rosalind, of course he had to tell her to go, but had he not done so in an unkind way? He now very much regretted the sort of sinister things he had said to her-moreover, somehow, he had said too much. He wondered if he should go to see her, but that was impossible, and now she would avoid him. He had rung Jackson’s Lodge number at intervals, but that was silent. What was happening now to Marian, where was she? Oh poor Marian. He could not ask questions now, he was an outcast.

  The door bell rang. He ran to it.

  ‘Oh, Rosalind, have you any news?’

  ‘No. I waited a while for telephone calls, then I went over to Tara but I couldn’t get in, I mean there seemed to be no one there!’

  ‘Thank you for coming here. Don’t go away yet -’

  ‘Tuan, darling, are you mad!’

  ‘What do you mean? I am sorry, I have offended you.’

  ‘Let’s sit down.’

  They went and sat down on the sofa. She took hold of his hand.

  ‘Tuan, I love you, I want to marry you.’

  ‘Dear, dear Rosalind, you don’t know me, this is just an impulse, a hasty movement, after all the distress we have been through. You are being very kind to me and I wish you well with all my heart, but we must think about your sister - ’

  ‘But you love me, I know you do, we want each other, there has been a barrier and it is broken, I am the only person who understands you - of course I think about Marian, but - ’

  ‘My dear child - ’

  ‘I am almost as old as you. How old are you?’

  ‘Thirty.’

  ‘Well, I am nearly twenty-three, so we are just right! I know, you have had dreadful troubles, perhaps because of your parents, I know you grieved so much when they died, I am sorry, I know I must not speak of that - and yet in time I must, I must speak of everything. I have been watching you ever so long, ever since Uncle Tim found you on that train from Edinburgh -’

  ‘Please -’

  ‘He told us about that, and how he loved you at once. I have loved you at once.’

  ‘Will you please stop -’

  ‘He gave you your name - what was your other name?’

  ‘Thomas, but -’

  ‘You have a Jewish name too, will you tell it to me?’

  ‘Where did you - never mind - it is Jacob.’

  ‘I love that name too - but I shall keep it secret between us. Uncle Tim also told us what your name meant, Tuan, how it was a tragic and a noble name — ’

  ‘You are a child, a charming child. But please do not go on with this talk, it will lead us nowhere, it would just lead into the dark.’

  ‘You have sorrows - oh please forgive me - I want to hold you and save you -’

  ‘Yes, you are a child, a thoroughly romantic child. I am very very far away from you. Forgive me. I have to be alone.’

  ‘T
o be forgiven and to be alone forever? Like Jackson!’

  ‘Why do you think like that about Jackson?’

  ‘I don’t know - think he is going away - don’t want him to go away - anyway he is very lonely - ’

  ‘He is a strange man, and he is a good man.’

  ‘So are you, let us return to you. I want you to tell me something about your life.’

  ‘Rosalind, I cannot - there is no life - I mean there is - nothing to tell -’

  ‘Oh come - there is something you know of, something you have seen, the suffering of someone else - you have been so secretive, so shy and reticent -’

  Tuan stood up, he walked several paces to and fro. ‘Enough, enough, dear Rosalind, please go now. You came here because of Marian. There are things I cannot explain. I should not have spoken. Please leave me, oh please leave me.’

  Rosalind said, ‘You must understand my love, you must believe in it, you must not let that destroy my love, our love, for I know that you love me. And I have loved you for a long time, I am not a child, I cannot leave you, I want to be entirely with you, I want your suffering to be my suffering. Please at least tell me something, please - ’

  Tuan walked up and down the room in silence, then sat down again, drawing up a chair opposite to her. ‘All right, I will tell you something. Just one thing. I will tell you and it will distress you, and you will tell no one else.’

  ‘I will tell no one else.’

  ‘It is about the past - oh the past, how soon it can vanish and be forgotten. Even the hugest and most hideous things may fade - yet such things also must never be forgotten — ’

  Rosalind said, ‘The Holocaust?’

  ‘Yes. Perhaps there is nothing more to say -’