A Fairly Honourable Defeat

by Iris Murdoch

  ‘Oh stop it,’ said Morgan. ‘You’ll make me angry. We were just discussing something. And I never make my bed until the evening. And it was the way you knocked that made us hesitate to open the door.’

  ‘What were you discussing?’

  ‘Something private.’

  ‘And why did he say he’d be late at the office when he was here?’

  ‘He was going to be late at the office. Then I rang up and asked him to come round. And if you must know, we were discussing you. We were talking about your education.’

  ‘I am afraid,’ said Peter, ‘that I don’t believe a word you say.’ He was pale and shuddering a little, his eyes fixed on Morgan.

  ‘Look, Peter, I am not having a love affair with your father! The idea is completely unthinkable. Can’t you see I’m speaking the truth? Come on, Rupert, or has the cat got your tongue?’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Rupert, ‘what she says.’ But he could scarcely raise his face and his voice sounded thick and jumbled. His mouth seemed to be filled with stones.

  ‘What made you come round here and bang on the door in that horrible way?’ said Morgan. ‘What put it into your head?’

  ‘Someone told me—about you and my father.’

  ‘Someone told you? Who?’

  ‘Never mind. I’m grateful. I just wanted to see with my own eyes. And I’ve seen. I could scarcely believe it. Then there was the car outside, and now that I’ve seen—both of you—I know—Don’t worry. I’m going now. Then you can get on with it.’

  ‘Peter, this is a lot of nonsense,’ said Morgan, ‘and your father and I are very angry with you. Have you, or this other person, said anything about this fable to your mother?’

  ‘No,’ said Peter. ‘She doesn’t know. At least, she doesn’t know. And I’m not going to tell her. You can keep your little secret. As long as you’re enjoying yourselves.’

  ‘Peter, really. I’m very vexed with you—’

  ‘You amused yourself with me,’ said Peter. ‘I should have seen the sort of person you were. You started it. Kissing me and rolling me in the grass in that railway cutting. You knew perfectly well you were making me fall in love with you. Then next week you decide to drop me and take up with him. I expect it will be someone else the week after.’

  ‘Peter—’

  ‘All right, all right, I’m going.’ He turned towards the door and then stopped. The piece of green malachite was lying on the table in the little hall, weighing down a pile of letters. Peter turned back to Morgan who had risen. ‘I see he’s given you that, that bit of green stone. He gave it to me once, years and years ago when I was a child. Then he forgot he’d given it to me and it went back into his room. He’s simply forgotten about me, forgotten, forgotten. And what you said in the railway cutting just isn’t true, I know that now. Full fathom five proves nothing, nothing at all. Except that everything’s rich and strange all right, rich and strange and foul. And the bells are ringing but they don’t sound pretty any more, not any more at all.’

  Peter’s face had suddenly collapsed into tears. He covered it with both hands, then turned and ran out of the door and out of the flat. His running feet pounded down the stairs and the front door banged.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Morgan. She closed the sitting room door. ‘Have another drink, Rupert. I think we need one.’

  ‘How can you be—so calm—’ said Rupert. His tongue was still impeded.

  ‘I’m not calm, you perfect fool. I’m on the verge of hysterics. But what good would it do us if I started screaming? I must say, you were pretty helpful, weren’t you, sitting there tongue-tied and looking the absolute picture of guilt!’

  ‘We are guilty.’

  ‘What do you say? Don’t mumble so.’

  ‘We are guilty.’

  ‘Rupert, you make me sick. You entered this situation quite deliberately, with your eyes open. Now when we get this awful shock you just fold up. All right, go round and tell Hilda all about it. And I’ll go to Saint Tropez or Marrakesh or Timbuctoo, and not on your money!’

  ‘Morgan, please don’t shout at me. I’m very upset.’

  ‘I’m very upset too!’

  ‘And we’ve got to think.’

  ‘You’re right there. Please forgive me, Rupert. I’m very sorry. I’m just rather knocked out by that visitation.’

  ‘Who on earth could have told him?’

  ‘Axel.’

  ‘Axel?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve already worked that one out. I started doing my thinking at once.’

  ‘Why Axel?’

  ‘He’s the only person who detests me,’ said Morgan. ‘And he’s about the only person who’s likely to have found out. You must have left one of my letters lying about on your desk at the office. And I’ve been expressing myself rather warmly of late!’

  ‘But I never left any letters lying about—I destroyed them all immediately—’

  ‘All right, all right, I’m not blaming you, here have a drink for Christ’s sake. I must say I hope Hilda doesn’t know. And there’s your ghastly celebration dinner tomorrow. What a moment for a family gathering! At any rate you won’t have me there. I think I’ll be genuinely out of town tomorrow.’

  ‘What was that about your rolling him in the grass in the railway cutting?’

  ‘I kissed him on the way back from Cambridge. It was silly of me. It was a hot day.’

  ‘Did you let him make love to you?’

  ‘No, of course not! Really, Rupert, are you going to start being jealous of Peter?’

  ‘No,’ said Rupert. He got up heavily. ‘I’m much more troubled about Hilda—’

  ‘Than you are about me? Thanks!’

  ‘Oh Morgan, Morgan, my whole world is wrecked—’

  ‘Yes, you are a coward,’ said Morgan. ‘I think it would have been better and more honest if we’d just gone to bed, we both want to. Instead of having this endless nerve-wracking puling sort of discussion.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘It isn’t, but never mind. I’m not going to beg you for anything. I just ask you not to lose your nerve now and spill the whole thing to Hilda. I care about Hilda too, I care deeply, and I care about her opinion. I don’t want her as a spectator of the jagged tangled snarled up sort of muddle we seem to have got ourselves into at this particular moment. Just now we’re both suffering from shock. And we can’t really do anything but wait. Hold onto each other and wait. I do happen to love you, Rupert.’

  ‘Yes, yes. I love you too. Forgive me. I won’t tell Hilda—yet.’

  ‘Come here, Rupert, let me put my arms round you. That’s better.’

  ‘Suppose Axel tells Hilda?’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do about that. You’ll soon know if he has.’

  ‘I must go home at once.’

  ‘Relax, relax. Come and lie down on my bed for a moment, I won’t seduce you, I just want us to be quiet together for a time before you go.’

  She led him into the bedroom and they lay down in each other’s arms upon Morgan’s tousled bed. Rupert felt so sick and dazed with misery that he almost slept, and she had to rouse him at last when it was beginning to get dark. ‘I think you really must go now, my darling.’

  After Morgan had pushed Rupert out of the front door she saw that there was a letter for her lying upon the mat. It was from Tallis.

  She climbed slowly and wearily back up the stairs. When she was alone in the sitting room she stood there motionless for some time holding the letter and gazing at the white wall opposite, now illuminated by the light of the street lamp. She went to the window and pulled the curtains. She tore Tallis’s envelope across and then across again. It was not easy to tear since the letter inside appeared to be a very long one. She dropped the pieces into the wastepaper basket. Then she went into her bedroom and, stuffing the sheet into her mouth, quietly had hysterics.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘THE WEATHER seems to have quite recovered.’

  ‘I think it
’s not quite so hot, don’t you?’

  ‘What’s the forecast?’

  ‘Continuing warm. Won’t you have a little more champagne, Julius?’

  ‘Thank you, Hilda. Oh Axel, have I taken your seat?’

  ‘No, no, don’t stir. I am just going to inspect Hilda’s roses.’

  ‘Bit battered, I’m afraid. Champagne, Rupert? Do you think it’s iced enough?’

  ‘Exactly right I should say, my dear. Thank you, just a little.’

  ‘Is it cold in there, Simon?’

  ‘No, the water’s beautifully warm. Why don’t the rest of you come in?’

  ‘No, you’re the water baby, ha ha.’

  ‘Have another black olive, Axel.’

  ‘What a pity Morgan couldn’t be with us.’

  What a remarkable talent English people have for hiding their feelings, thought Simon, observing from water level the well-dressed convivial little gathering above him on the pavement. The men were in formal evening dress. Hilda was wearing an ankle-length shift of apple green silk with a slit at the side through which stockings of a slightly lighter green occasionally twinkled. Corks popped, bottles tilted, glasses clinked, faces smiled, olive and savoury biscuits were enthusiastically selected. Simon had taken refuge in the pool.

  The last few days had been a nightmare for Simon. A state of cold war existed between himself and Axel. Everything was difficult. Even getting rid of the teddy bear had been difficult. Never had a teddy bear seemed more like an albatross. Distractedly he had carried it down one street and along the next. ‘Disgusting!’ said an old gentleman of military appearance as Simon passed him hugging his thankless burden. He had intended to leave it in the cemetery behind Barons Court tube station, but his arrival with a very large teddy bear and a very furtive manner had created so much interest that the gardener and two elderly ladies had actually followed him about all the time he was in there. After that he tried to leave it on an Upminster train, but had it helpfully thrown out after him with a cry of ‘Forgot your bear, Sir!’ just as the doors were closing. A Jamaican bus conductor prevented him from leaving it upon a bus, and when in desperation he tried to give it to a child in Kensington Gardens the child’s mother almost called the police. Eventually he took a taxi to Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital and thrust it wordlessly into the arms of the receptionist.

  Simon had made innumerable attempts to open negotiations with Axel, but it was simply impossible to get started. Axel was polite but distant and put on an air of boredom whenever Simon started to make a speech. Simon felt that if he could only gain the impetus which a genuine even acrimonious discussion would give him he would be enabled to confess. As it was he felt frozen and paralysed and also at first just sufficiently annoyed with his friend to be willing to let the situation continue and even deteriorate. He was getting into his old mood of ‘Let everything be awful’: a kind of despair which he recognized, disapproved of, but seemed unable to check. Meanwhile he kept up an intermittent barrage, sometimes pleading, sometimes shouting. Axel replied with dreadful quietness. ‘Please don’t be emotional.’ ‘Please don’t shout.’ ‘This kind of talk is profitless.’ And ‘Please regard yourself as entirely free.’ ‘I’m not free!’ Simon screamed. ‘I don’t want to be free!’ Axel coughed and looked at his watch. Simon retired defeated to the spare room. Axel spent the evenings at the club, came in late and locked his door.

  At some point in every day Simon resolved to tell Axel everything. At some other later point he decided not to do so yet. He began to feel with horror that if he did tell everything he would be either not believed or not forgiven. The terrible possibility lodged in him like an icy pellet that perhaps the days of his liaison with Axel were numbered. It had all been an illusion after all. Soon he would be a nomad again, looking back with amazement upon his experiment in constancy. He could not face or accept or even reflect upon this idea, but he knew that its presence was poisonous to him and that to let it exist was to give it power. He kept trying to impose some sort of pattern upon his procrastination. If he could only find out more about Rupert and Morgan. If he could only discover whether Julius had been speaking the truth. If he could only understand Julius’s motives or if only something public would happen. After that he might know what to do next or at least be forced to do something. But Morgan was out of London, Hilda told him. And he did not dare to seek out Julius. Not that he feared that what Axel suspected might become the truth. But Julius had this extraordinary power of making him do things. And he did not want to add to the evidence against himself.

  It was a part of Axel’s deadly policy that appearances should be kept up. Of course they must both go to Rupert’s celebration dinner. The car was punctually at the door. On the way they had a conversation which reduced Simon to a final frenzy of terror.

  ‘Axel, please stop being so cold to me.’

  ‘Could you take your hand away, please?’

  ‘I can’t face this evening. I feel so bloody miserable.’

  ‘Your brother expects us. And I see no point in publishing the breakdown of our little venture.’

  ‘But if only you’d discuss it—’

  ‘There is nothing to discuss.’

  ‘You don’t understand. There’s nothing between me and Julius—’

  ‘Please don’t start that again.’

  ‘But Axel, it’s true—I haven’t seen Julius since—’

  ‘I don’t want the details of your timetable. As far as I am concerned you are entirely free. Your private life is your affair from now on and mine is mine.’

  ‘I love you, Axel, we’re bound together—’

  ‘I have no taste for empty emotional badinage.’

  ‘You must talk to me properly.’

  ‘You can find someone else to talk to. I am sure you would have no difficulty in Piccadilly Circus station. Your old friends are doubtless still hanging round the public lavatory.’

  ‘No, no, no! Axel, I’ve been an awful fool—’

  ‘On the contrary, the folly is entirely mine. I imagined you would be capable of changing your habits for my sake. It was a pathetic error and most unfair to you. I owe you an apology.’

  ‘But I have changed my habits! Oh Axel, you aren’t really going to leave me, are you?’

  ‘We happen at present to share a house.’

  ‘But you aren’t making any other arrangements, are you? You said you didn’t want Rupert to know—’

  ‘One does not want day by day spectators of the breakdown of one’s ménage.’

  ‘But you aren’t going to go away, are you, Axel, please say you aren’t, all this will pass, I swear it will. I love you and—’

  ‘As I said you are entirely free. And I regard myself as equally free, nor do I propose to consult you about what I do.’

  “Axel, how can you be so cruel! I can’t exist without you—’

  ‘I detest these profitless scenes. Here we are at Rupert’s. Try to behave naturally, will you.’

  Simon got into the pool so that his face should be wet anyway.

  ‘Dinner! Messieurs sont servis!’ came Hilda’s voice from the house, a little shrill. ‘Togs on quick, Simon dear!’

  Axel and Rupert, who were discussing tax relief as an incentive for lower income groups, began to move off towards the French windows. Julius lingered beside the pool. He was wearing a midnight blue velvet evening jacket which made his pallid hair look blond and brought out the violet light in his dark eyes. He gazed down smiling at Simon.

  Conscious suddenly of his thinness, Simon swam to the shallower end to get out, and Julius walked round to meet him, placing his back to the house. Rupert’s pool, minute and designed for swimmers, sloped sharply to a depth of six feet, and there was very little standing space where it was shallow enough to stand. Simon’s feet touched the slippery bottom and he reached for the aluminium ladder. Then as he put one cringing foot onto the lowest step of the ladder and started to pull himself up, he felt a light tap on his ches
t. He lost his balance and fell backward with a splash, swallowing a large mouthful of water. Julius had touched him with his foot.

  Simon spluttered.

  Julius laughed. Then he went down on one knee on the pavement, leaning towards Simon. ‘Have you been a good boy, Simon?’

  ‘Damn you,’ said Simon.

  ‘Don’t worry, they’ve all gone into the house. They’ve gone through into the dining room. We can have a little private talk.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  ‘Naughty temper. You haven’t discussed any of our little secrets with Axel, have you?’

  ‘No, but I’m going to!’ Simon began to climb the ladder again.

  ‘I should advise you not to,’ said Julius. ‘Wait, I want a word with you.’ He thrust his knuckles into Simon’s shoulder and Simon flopped back again into the pool.

  Simon could not now touch the bottom. He trod water and glared at Julius. ‘Let me out! I must get dressed for dinner.’

  ‘No, not yet. I want to relieve your anxiety.’

  ‘You’re driving me mad. What’s happened to Rupert and Morgan?’

  ‘I wondered when you were going to ask me that.’

  ‘Well, what has happened?’

  ‘Oh, a lot of things. But you can’t expect me to tell you now, with Rupert and Hilda twenty yards away. You must come round to my flat. I’ve been expecting you, you know.’

  ‘I won’t come! I don’t want to have anything more to do with you!’

  ‘You want to know about Morgan, don’t you? Didn’t I tell you I’d unravel it all quite painlessly? I may even need your assistance. ’

  ‘I won’t help you. You’ve done me enough damage already. Now let me out.’

  Simon swam forward, gripped the steps and started to mount. Julius, laughing, lifted his hand again. Before Julius could push him Simon fell back, swam as fast as he could to the other end of the pool and began to pull himself out. There was no ladder here and the smoothly rounded edge of the pool was slippery. Julius strolled round, waited until Simon had got one knee upon the edge, and then tipped him back in again with a touch of his patent leather shoe. ‘You are my prisoner, little one.’