‘Those hands were extended outward, in supplication to other men. It’s a pity that throughout human history God has got in the way of that gesture. Even as I say it, I become aware that Rugorsky would perhaps relish the perception. I can’t get him out of my mind.’
After a moment’s thought, he asked,’ Do you believe in God when you’re doing one of your digs?’
‘Never. I believe in history and logical deduction. And any palms I saw outstretched to me in Greece, or on Milos, belonged to beggars.’
Silence came between them again. Squire looked at the shabby carpet, Kaye stared into his glass. At last, Kaye cleared his throat, a look of discomfort on his brown capacious face.
‘Well, er, I’d better tell you what I’m here about, Tom. I’m here in the thankless role of peacemaker.’
‘Thanks.’
‘It was June of last year that you and Teresa fell out, right? That’s fifteen months. A long time. Your friends feel that if the two of you don’t team up again soon, you’ll never make it. So we’ve agreed to get together and try to push. I couldn’t have some more whisky, could I?’
He stood up as Squire gestured to the bottle.
‘Switch the light on too, will you? It’s getting a bit dark. What makes you think I any longer want Teresa to come back?’
‘Cigarette?’
‘I’ve got my own.’ He reached into the open suitcase and fished out a half-empty packet of ‘Drina’ cigarettes. He lit one without offering the packet to Kaye, who smoked his own.
‘You’ve caught the habit? Those things’ll kill you, you know that? I’ve figured out that you do want Teresaback. Just one look at this apartment convinces me. I’ve heard of a hair-shirt economy but this is ridiculous. The famous Tom Squire dossing in some dump in Paddington, for Christ’s sake? The gesture is too ostentatious, too obvious. You’re punishing yourself, Tom, you’re displaying your sores.’
‘It’s cheap here. I can get my hair cut in the basement.’
‘Don’t be difficult. Things are difficult enough. Teresa wants to come back to you.’
‘That’s a decided policy change. Has her lover-boy deserted her?’
‘That’s what’s difficult. Yes. He has. And she’s broke. But that’s not her primary motivation for wanting a reunion.’
Squire smoked the Yugoslav cigarette and waited for Kaye to continue.
‘Look, Tom, I know that she doesn’t want to come back just because the Jarvis guy walked out on her. She loves you. You hurt her pride, that’s all, and she had to show how independent she can be.’
‘She’s always known how independent she can be.’
‘You know what I mean. Hell hath no fury and all that.’
‘Marsh. She was not scorned. I know I upset her with the Laura affair, but I never deliberately insulted her feelings. She then set out to make me feel as bad as possible. She succeeded.’
‘Shit, I’m no good at this. I’m going to put my foot in it. I told Deirdre that she should have talked to you, but she sent me instead.’
‘Oh, why’s that?’
‘Well, er, Deirdre’s round the corner in the pub, The Plumes, I think it is. She’s looking after Teresa. The plan is for us to go down and join them. Talk things over. Feel up to it?’
‘Deirdre’s keeping Teresa from making a fast exit, no doubt.’ He stood up and went to the window. Mr Ali Khan’s lights were on in the corner shop. ‘I will smoke this cigarette and in that time decide whether a) I will come down and speak to Teresa and b) I will accept her back. If the answer to b) is nyet, then plainly the answer to a) is nyet, since there’d be no point in seeing her.’
He stood looking out at the street. Kaye examined the toy Sicilian carts.
‘Think of the Athenians at Milos, Tom. “We have concluded from experience that it’s a law of nature to rule whatever one can.” Teresa is surrendering after her tiny revolt. You must reclaim her and Pippet Hall and the family as part of your domain, though I know it sounds chauvinistic. Rule what you can. That’s what you must do — and make her surrender as palatable as you can.’
Not turning round, Squire said remotely, ‘I am thinking of the Athenians at Milos. I am also thinking of Vasili in Moscow. They should be getting the first punches in on him about now.’ He lapsed into silence, smoking with folded arms.
Quiet lay in the room. From below came the faint sound of bazouki. Somewhere a man was shouting. Marshall Kaye sat tight and sipped his malt.
Finally, Squire turned and walked across the room to stub out the butt of his cigarette in an ashtray. He breathed the last lungful of smoke into the air, watching as its spirals moved across the stained ceiling.
‘Okay, Marsh,’ he said briskly, rubbing his palms against the seat of his slacks.’ I’ve come to an ideological decision regarding Teresa. Maybe we in the West make too much of our personal problems.’
As he spoke, screams and furious barking broke out below stairs.
‘Hang on, that’s Deirdre’s voice,’ Kaye said, running over to the door in alarm and throwing it open. Angry female voices rose from the dimness, punctuated by the shrill yaps of a dog.
‘You keek my dorg, I report you at the RSPCA!’
‘Is it a dog or a shark? It nearly bit my leg off!’
The two men hurried downstairs, bumping into the Iranian professor of metallurgy, who shuffled out of his room, clad in a yellow silk dressing-gown, to find out what the noise was about. On the ground floor, the woman of mysterious nationality was bundling her pug-dog out of the door; each, in its fashion, maintained a continuous complaint as they disappeared. Deirdre Kaye began to ascend the stairs, stumbling in the thick dust.
‘Marsh, that you? Tom? What is this place? Doesn’t it possess any lights? Gas lights? Candles? Where are you? Who was that dreadful creature with the captive coyote? Is she a denizen of this — ’ by now she was face-to-face with the Iranian professor of metallurgy — ‘ this multi-national lodging-house?’
‘Come on up and stop complaining, Deirdre,’ Kaye said, seizing his wife by the arm and dragging her past the Iranian professor. ‘You just encountered another tenant, that’s all.’
‘Tenant plus wolf-hound, thanks. Tom, what on earth are you doing in these squalid surroundings? I need a drink. Plus a tetanus injection.’
They sat Deirdre down in the best-upholstered of Squire’s armchairs, and Kaye tenderly inspected her ankle while Squire poured them all whisky.
‘No ice, I’m afraid,’ he said, handing his sister a glass.
‘Plenty of dog biscuits, I’m sure,’ Deirdre said.
Deirdre was dressed for summer and the city, in a smart spotted dress and jacket in pure silk. She was heavily made up. When she had calmed down slightly, she said, ‘I wondered what had happened. You’ve been so long, Marsh. I had to come and see, little thinking this place doubled as kennels. Here you both are, sitting boozing, while I’ve been stuck with Teresa in the pub.’
‘Also boozing, I hope,’ Squire said.
‘Frankly, your wife is not my favourite company. She’s been a bitch to you, and I don’t mind saying so.’
‘Funny you should say that, Deirdre. Tom was just about to tell me that he is going back to her.’
Deirdre pulled a face and clutched her ankle, as if hoping that injury might excuse her speaking out of turn. ‘There is the Hall and all that to think of. Don’t take any notice of anything I say.’
‘You’re misjudging Tess,’ Squire said. ‘She has her harpylike aspects, but I understand how she feels; her life has been thrown out of kilter. That’s my responsibility, in part at least, unless I kick her out — which I’m not disposed to do. You must help by sympathizing with her position. It is not characteristic of Teresa to get mixed up with little shits like Jarvis.’
His sister took a large gulp of her whisky. ‘Glenfiddich — saved! Tom, you idiot, you don’t have to go through with this goody-goody altruistic stuff for our sake. Be yourself. Kick her out, call up Laura. Laura�
��s smashing. Obey your impulses. No renunciations. Uncle Willie told you that ages ago.’
Kaye said, ‘You realize we have witnesses to prove that Teresa invited this guy Jarvis up to Pippet Hall on several occasions when you were away. Photographic evidence, as a matter of fact.’
Down in the bowels of the house, bazouki music started again, louder than before. The Greek hairdresser’s evening was hitting its stride. Squire went over to the window and leant against the sill, looking inward at his sister and brother-in-law, arms folded.
‘Everyone’s so involved with their little transient private lives. Perhaps as sucklings of a materialist culture we really do try to possess each other too much. Perhaps we really are flabby and deserve to go under.
‘You come up here and tell me Tess still loves me, Marsh. Now you say you have photographic evidence of her carrying-on. You can’t make up your own mind where you stand. But I’ve made up my mind. Let me quote the Athenians right back at you — “It’s a law of nature to rule whatever you can.” Teresa’s making a fresh approach. So I am going to take her back to the Hall — tonight, if possible. On such good terms as we can contrive.
‘I will try to retain the Hall and my wife. It would be foolish to lose either, just because one primitive part of my brain wants me to get revenge on her for ill- treatment. At the Hall, I can work my best. I have to protect my society, SPA, and to fight for the various things I find myself capable of fighting for. Ermalpa’s taught me that even quite everyday things need to be defended.’
‘Well, you have made up your mind,’ Deirdre said. ‘Seeing you standing there, I can’t help thinking of mother’s old advice to us — “Always look first-rate.” You’re doing your Squire stuff again and being first-rate — I hope it makes you happy.’
‘Well, Deirdre, I am basically pretty happy. I’m puzzled why that’s regarded as such a strange statement these days. Don’t drink any more; take me down to the pub and let me chat with Tess — if she’s still there. We can drive up to Hartisham this evening, if she feels so inclined. She has to behave not too impossibly with me, and recognize herself as a native of Milos, in the capitulating position.’
Deirdre stood up and smoothed down her dress. She made a wry face at Kaye. ‘Life goes on. That’s the silly thing about it.’
‘I’ll put on a sweater,’ Squire said. ‘It’s cooler here than it was in Ermalpa.’
Exotic Iranian odours greeted them as they made their way down the dim stairs. Kaye paused on the landing and looked back at Squire.
‘Tom, I want you to know I respect what you’re doing.’
‘Marsh — don’t go all American on me. Having let my enemy off the hook, I can hardly do less for my wife…’
‘I know it’s not going to be easy for you, Tom. But Teresa’s horoscope said this was a good day for reconciliations, you’ll be glad to know.’ He grinned. ‘Make it all happen.’
‘That’s what’s known as looking for the miraculous.’
Kaye rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Maybe what’s always needed is an act of faith.’
The way to the front door was impeded by push-bikes. In the basement, the Greek barber was singing loudly. Deirdre walked diligently, on the alert for foreign ladies and fat dogs.
Daylight still lingered in the street. Squire, Kaye and Deirdre walked along together. They turned the corner by Mr Ali Khan’s shop.
The Plumes was in front of them, doors open to admit the summer air and emit smoke. The interior looked welcoming, with its oak panels and dim lights. Black men and white, in
T-shirts and jeans, stood out on the pavement, talking and lifting pint mugs of beer to their lips. As Squire approached, he saw Teresa sitting waiting alone inside at a little table, with a drink in front of her. Teresa saw Squire.
She waved. The smile that accompanied the flutter of the hand was hesitant. She had a new hair-style.
He waved in response. He knew, as he entered the lighted space and became merged with the bustle of early evening drinkers, that Teresa — and Deirdre, and he, and everything of which they were a part — were changed. Things would never be as they had been; that must be accepted.
Even to speak to her, so familiar, so loved for all she was and symbolized, a new language was required.
‘How was Ermalpa?’ Teresa asked, as he sat down beside her, looking at him slightly squint.
Copyright
Copyright © 1980 by Brian W. Aldiss.
Published by E-Reads. All rights reserved.
www.ereads.com
FB2 document info
Document ID: 98824ac7-f3ff-4078-8b6e-1e64c8822354
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 23.4.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.27, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Namenlos
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
Life in the West tsq-1 Page 36
