How Far Can You Go?

by David Lodge

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “I’m sure Dennis will come back tonight.” In the background Miriam could hear Michael and the children arguing peevishly about who should bring something in from the car. She felt a deep anger against Dennis, and a deep compassion for Angela; but how strange it was, and slightly shameful, that the news should make her feel fonder of Michael.

  “I never really wanted to marry Dennis, you know,” Angela was saying. “I tried to get out of it, but he wore me down. Why didn’t he leave me alone?” There was a long, choked silence on the line; then Angela began to cry, like a child, gulping for breath between sobs.

  “Angela, listen, hang on, I’m coming over,” said Miriam.

  Dennis did not return home that Sunday. He drove about aimlessly for several hours, then he had a number of drinks in a pub, then he called on Lynn. She opened the door to him in her dressing-gown – it was early in the evening, but she had been taking a bath and washing her hair. Perhaps if she hadn’t been wearing so little and smelling so fragrant, they wouldn’t have made love. Dennis had come to her with no such intention, indeed with no intention at all: he was all at sea, tossed by violent waves of anger, guilt, self-pity, anxiety; sure only that if he slunk back to Angela without seeing Lynn, after Angela had dared him to go to her, then he would be broken, unmanned for ever after. So he went to Lynn, who read in his face what had happened as soon as she opened the door, and drew him inside, and into her arms, and into her bed. They made love, clumsily and urgently at first, then a second time with more rapture, then once more with desperate effort, Lynn licking him erect, and Dennis groaning as he squeezed a few last drops of seed from his aching balls. He woke the next morning to a grey drizzle, the suspicious scrutiny of Lynn’s two-year-old, Gareth, and the consciousness that he was well and truly crucified on the cross of adultery. He drove Lynn to work, dropping her on a street corner half a mile from the factory gates so that they would not be observed arriving together. He went through the day in a trance, making no decisions. In the evening he met Lynn at the same corner and drove her home. There was a bedsitter vacant in the house, and Dennis rented it. He ate his evening meal with Lynn, and slept in her bed at night, but before dawn he would creep upstairs to his dreary little room, for he did not like to be discovered in her bed by Gareth in the mornings. He made no attempt to get in touch with Angela. He made no plans, and Lynn, to his relief, did not press him to declare any. She managed to conduct their affair as if it were an extension of their office relationship. She was calm, efficient, self-effacing. It was as if she could only express passion in her letters – and in bed, where she clung and coiled herself about him with a fierce intensity that filled him with wonderment, delight and dread in equal proportions. Only then did she seem to be staking some desperate claim on his future, but if he praised her afterwards she would smile ironically just as when he used to compliment her on her shorthand and typing.

  The breach between Dennis and Angela sent shock waves rippling through their circle of friends. For many, it marked the end of an era, the end of illusions. “We are not immune,” Miriam declared solemnly, and when Michael asked her what she was on about, merely repeated, “We are not immune.” By “we” she meant their circle, their peer group of enlightened, educated Christians; and by “not immune” she meant that there was no magic protection, in their values and beliefs, against failure in personal relationships. If anything had seemed solid and indestructible in that sphere, it had been the marriage of Dennis and Angela, which had been founded on so long and faithful a betrothal, and had withstood such cruel trials and tribulations; yet it had succumbed at last to the most banal of matrimonial accidents.

  Dennis, of course, was chiefly blamed, especially by the women; yet they could not, in their heart of hearts, entirely absolve Angela from all responsibility, for they had all noted, ever since the death of Anne, some fundamental absence of tenderness in her character which, however understandable in itself, might well, they agreed, in the course of the many conversations and phone calls which enveloped the affair in a web of words, have driven Dennis to another woman’s arms. They also blamed Lynn for throwing herself at Dennis, though the discovery that she had a child complicated their response, for they prided themselves on their compassion for one-parent families, especially young women who had refused the easy options of abortion or adoption and were struggling to bring up their babies alone. It was natural enough that a girl so situated might persuade herself that she was in love with her boss, when what she was really in love with was her idealized picture of his family life. Clearly the attraction of Dennis for Lynn was as a surrogate father for her child rather than as a lover. Yet his response had a reckless gallantry about it that some secretly admired.

  Michael, meeting Dennis by appointment at a pub one evening to hand over a suitcase of clothes, found him shy and defensive, but was himself overwhelmed – not with envy, exactly, for no one could envy Dennis the moral and emotional mess he had got himself into – but with a kind of admiration mingled with self-doubt. The unexpected presence of Lynn, sitting beside Dennis in the pub, brought home to Michael the astonishing reality of Dennis’s affair, and made him feel himself less real. In the modern literature to which Michael was devoted, adultery was the sign of authenticity in personal life, and marriage the realm of habit, conformity and compromise. By rights, therefore, it was he, Michael, who ought to have been sitting in the corner of this pub, holding the hand of the pretty pale-faced girl with the nicely shaped breasts, and Dennis, dull, dependable old Dennis, who ought to have been pushing his way through the swing door with a suitcase full of shirts and underwear, a nervous envoy from the world of bourgeois morality. It was he, Michael, who ought to have been defying bourgeois morality, and yet he knew that he never would, he would never have the courage, or the wickedness, or indeed the provocation. For ever since the weekend in Kent, he didn’t know whether it was because she thought he had died in the snow, or because he had agreed to her doing the social workers’ course, but Miriam had stopped being aggressive, had indeed become positively sweet-tempered. They seemed to have renegotiated their marriage and to be bound to each other by some new, more pragmatic and, from Miriam’s point of view, more equitable contract. He had been content with his bargain until he saw Dennis in the corner of the pub holding Lynn’s hand, a man who had torn up his contract and tossed the pieces in the face of the world. He tried to explain all this to Dennis after Lynn had left, early, to relieve Gareth’s babysitter, and several beers had loosened his tongue. “It’s like Heart of Darkness,” he said. “You’re Kurtz and I’m Marlow. See?”

  Dennis shook his head uncomprehendingly. “How’s Angela?” he said. “How’s Nicole?”

  “Fine, fine,” said Michael vaguely, forgetting for the moment, in his absorption in his own fate, that Dennis had deserted them.

  So different people reacted differently to the news as it spread. ADRIAN was alarmed that the episode would bring Catholics for an Open Church into disrepute, and interfere with preparations for the Paschal Festival. Edward was saddened and Tessa intrigued. Violet sent extensive, incoherent letters to all parties from the long-stay psychiatric hospital where she was now confined. Ruth prayed fervently for a reconciliation. Miles was not very interested. Polly felt selfishly relieved that the plague had passed over her own house. Dennis himself, after a couple of weeks, was profoundly miserable, and longed only to be honourably released from his involvement with Lynn. He was exhausted from nightly sex, depressed by the meanness of his surroundings, acutely embarrassed by the gossip at work, and hag-ridden with guilt on account of Angela and the children, especially Nicole.

  In the end it was Austin who rescued him – Austin who was urged by Miriam to mediate in the affair and attempt a reconciliation, Austin who had a long interview with Lynn, and somehow persuaded her to tell Dennis to go back to Angela, and persuaded Angela to accept him back without injuring his pride, and persuaded Dennis to let Lynn leave the
factory and find a new job. So, after three weeks in which the earth had moved, life returned to normal again. Dennis and Angela picked up the threads of their lives together, a little wary of each other, a little chastened, but both hugely relieved. Their children, who had begun to exhibit alarming symptoms of delinquency and emotional disturbance under the impact of the crisis, swiftly reverted to normal. Their friends tactfully pretended that nothing had happened. For the first few weeks they contrived to go to bed at different times, and slept stretched along the outer edges of their double bed, but one night, by some intuitive mutual agreement, they rolled into each other’s arms and sealed their reconciliation.

  Austin’s part in all this was, of course, highly acclaimed. It seemed to them all that there was something poetic, something positively providential, about the way he had repaired the marriage that he had himself solemnized so many years ago. It was a bit of a surprise, admittedly, when he turned up at the Paschal Festival with Lynn in tow; and since Angela was there too it put rather a strain on Christian fellowship and bonhomie. And it made them all blink to see Austin and Lynn happily holding hands at the party that followed the Midnight Mass. But then, there were plenty of things to make one blink at the Catholics for an Open Church Paschal Festival.

  7

  * * *

  How It Is

  WHEN JEREMY’S PROGRAMME about the Paschal Festival was transmitted, Michael recorded it on videotape at the College’s Audio-Visual Resources Centre. Because of the furore that followed the broadcast, Adrian asked him to write an account of it for reference purposes. Being rather proud of his media know-how, Michael in fact produced quite a polished transcript. It read, he thought, like a kind of coda to everything that had happened to them in matters of belief. He was able to identify all but one of the voices over.

  TRANSCRIPT OF THE ELTON SPECIAL, “EASTER WITH THE NEW CATHOLICS”, AS TRANSMITTED 24/4/75.

  Opening shot of the College playing fields, just before dawn, looking eastwards. Silhouetted against the horizon, a large boulder with a figure seated on it, back to camera. Silence.

  Cut to

  Close up AUSTIN

  AUSTIN: We can’t be sure that the Resurrection actually happened.

  Cut to

  Playing fields. Dawn. Looking westwards. Long shot of some two hundred people sitting on the grass. Camera moves in, pans over faces in close-up. Faint dawn light reflected in their tired, expectant faces. Sound: birdsong.

  Cut to

  Close up ADRIAN

  ADRIAN: I think we can be pretty sure that no Pope will ever try to make an infallible pronouncement again.

  Cut to

  Playing fields. Looking eastwards. Two women in flowing robes of saffron and blue approach the figure on the boulder. Sound: arpeggio on flute. The figure turns and extends arms. The skirts of her pleated white robe are attached to her wrists and open out like wings. The other two fall back as if astonished and fearful.

  Cut to

  Close up MIRIAM

  MIRIAM: I can imagine circumstances in which I would consider having an abortion.

  Cut to

  Playing fields. The tip of the sun’s disc now appears on the eastern horizon. The three women begin a dance-mime illustrating the story of the two Marys and the angel at the empty tomb in Matthew. Sound: flute and percussion.

  Cut to

  Close up RUTH

  RUTH: Well, why shouldn’t nuns dance? I don’t see anything funny in the idea. (Laughs) Unless it was me dancing….

  Cut to

  Playing fields. The sun has risen. It shines through the diaphanous robes of the three dancers. The angel mimes the resurrection of Christ, leaping from the ground. Slow motion.

  VOICE OVER (Ruth): After all, the psalm says, “Let them dance in praise of his name, playing to him on strings and drums.” On the soundtrack the flute and percussion fade out and are replaced by the communal singing of “The Lord of the Dance”:

  Dance, then, wherever you may be,

  I am the Lord of the dance, said he, etc.

  Cut to

  College chapel. Night. The end of midnight mass. The packed congregation is singing “The Lord of the Dance” enthusiastically. A few people begin to dance in the aisles, up towards the altar. More join in.

  TITLES (superimposed):

  EASTER WITH THE NEW CATHOLICS THE ELTON SPECIAL

  Cut to

  Main road, morning. Cars and lorries passing noisily. Zoom in on arrowed AA sign, “COC PASCHAL FESTIVAL”.

  VOICE OVER (Adrian): We were rather chuffed to get our own AA sign. It shows we’re not just an eccentric fringe group….

  Cut to

  Main entrance hall of the College, crowded with people greeting each other, kissing, shaking hands, etc. Queue at desk marked “Registration”. Banner on wall: “Catholics for an Open Church. Paschal Festival 75. Peace and Love in the Lord.” Roar of conversation.

  VOICE OVER (Michael): Oh, absolutely all sorts of people – teachers, students, civil servants, housewives, priests, nuns … no, I don’t think we’ve got any factory workers. I suppose it’s essentially a middle-class movement….

  Cut to

  Lecture room, nearly full. ADRIAN on rostrum with DAN FIGUERA.

  ADRIAN: I know Dan Figuera doesn’t look like a Professor of Theology, but – (Laughter. Close up of DAN FIGUERA in battledress blouse) But I assure you that he is, and one of the foremost figures in the exciting Latin American school of liberation theologians. It’s a great pleasure and privilege….

  Cut to

  DAN FIGUERA at the lectern.

  DAN FIGUERA: Three questions. One: is Christianity a faith or a religion? I say it is a faith. Two: is its true dimension history or eternity? I say, history. Three: is its aim salvation or liberation? I say salvation is liberation….

  VOICE OVER (Austin): What Figuera is saying, basically, is that Christianity took a wrong turning as early as the first century. According to him, Christ came to start a revolution, but instead became the object of a cult.

  DAN FIGUERA: It’s obvious from the New Testament that Jesus and his disciples thought the revolution, which they called the Kingdom of God, was imminent. Instead of making it happen, the early Christians turned Jesus into a religion, exactly like a hundred other religions in the Mediterranean world at the time, complete with mysteries, metaphysics, and priests.

  Cut to

  College refectory. Lunch. Pan shot of people at tables eating and discussing. Sound: babble of conversation, clash of cutlery, crockery, etc. Shot of table with AUSTIN, EDWARD, TESSA.

  AUSTIN: What did you think of it then?

  TESSA: I’m afraid I can’t buy the idea of Christ as a freedom fighter.

  EDWAED: He seemed to be saying that the Crucifixion was more important than the Resurrection. I always thought it was the other way round.

  AUSTIN: Well, of course, there is some independent evidence about the Crucifixion. We can’t be sure that the Resurrection actually happened.

  Long shot of ADRIAN on his feet, rapping on the table for silence.

  ADRIAN: The forum on “Towards a new theology of sex” will begin at two o’clock, and afterwards we’ll split into buzz groups.

  Cut to

  Lecture room, afternoon. On the rostrum, seated behind a long table, MILES, FIONA FARRELL, BEDE, DOROTHY, and ADRIAN in the chair.

  ADRIAN: We’ve got on our panel a housewife, a priest, a single woman and a … bachelor.

  Close up on MILES

  VOICE OVER (Miles): I didn’t really want to come here at all. I don’t really have a lot in common with Catholics for an Open Church. I mean, liturgically and theologically, I’m a conservative. I mean, I’d bring back the Latin mass if I had half a chance, and deport Dan Figuera as an undesirable alien…. But it is a public forum, and I think one has a duty to bear witness to one’s convictions.

  Cut to

  MILES on his feet.

  MILES: There must be no more distinctions between J
ew and Greek, slave and free, male and female … (pause) straight and gay.

  Cut to

  Close up FIONA

  FIONA: I do so agree with what Dorothy was saying about sex education. The first time I felt sexual desire I thought I must be sickening for flu…. (Laughter) And of course I agree that we ought to tell our young people about contraception and so on, and not be shocked out of our wits if they decide to have sex before marriage or turn out to be homosexual, as Miles was saying, but… . But. Where does permissiveness stop, I ask myself. Is there anything that’s definitely not on? Is there anything we can all agree is wrong in this field? Abortion, I suppose, but that’s not exactly…

  Cut to

  A seminar room. A group of about a dozen women.

  MIRIAM: I always used to be strongly opposed to abortion, I signed petitions and marched and so on. I still get angry at the messianic attitude of some of the extreme women’s groups, as if abortion was the greatest thing since sliced bread. But now I’m not so sure that it’s always and absolutely evil. I can imagine circumstances in which I would consider having an abortion. What about you, Angela? I mean, you’ve got a mentally handicapped …

  ANGELA: (inaudible)

  MIRIAM: I mean, supposing you found you were pregnant again?

  ANGELA: I just can’t answer hypothetical … I suppose I’d have to consider it.

  MIRIAM: You see, I’m not sure Bede’s right when he said we must completely dissociate the abortion issue from the contraception issue. I mean, if in spite of taking every precaution, I accidentally become pregnant, what am I supposed to think? That God has punished me for using contraceptives? That he’s trying to make a fool of me? Obviously I don’t believe in such a God. It seems to me that God has given women the freedom to control our own bodies, and we can’t avoid the responsibility of using that freedom.

  Cut to

  The Refectory. Evening. Dinner is nearly over. ADRIAN raps on the table, BEDE stands up.