The Black Prince (Penguin Classics)

by Murdoch, Iris

  ‘I’ll do what I can for her. I like her, you know.’ I laughed crazily.

  ‘She’s like all of them now, so vague and inconsiderate and doing everything on the spur of the moment, and so full of contempt for everything. She adores her father but she can’t help needling him all the time. She told him this morning that you thought his work was “sentimental”.’

  ‘Rachel, I’ve been thinking,’ I said. (I had not in fact, it had just come into my head.) ‘I may be being completely unjust to Arnold. It’s years since I read the whole of his work. I must read it all through again, I may see it quite differently now. You like Arnold’s novels, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m his wife. And I’m a totally uneducated woman, as my dear daughter never tires of telling me. But look, I don’t want to talk about these,things. I want to say – well, first of all forgive me for bothering you again. You’ll begin to think I’m a neurotic woman with a fixation.’

  ‘Never, my dear Rachel! I’m so glad to see you. And what a pretty dress! How charming you look!’

  ‘Thanks. Oh I feel so unhappy about everything that’s happened lately. I know life is always a muddle but the muddle’s got suddenly worse and I can’t bear it. You know when things get inside you and you can’t stop going round and round the same piece of misery. That’s why I just have to come and see you. And Arnold always puts me in the wrong and I dare say I am in the wrong – ’

  ‘I’ve been in the wrong too,’ I said, ‘but I feel now that everything can be put right. There’s no need to have warfare when one can have peace. I’ll go and see Arnold and we’ll have a long talk – ’

  ‘Wait a moment, Bradley. Are you getting drunk on that shandy? You haven’t even had any yet. I don’t see any point in your talking all solemnly to Arnold. Men are so pompous about having things out and talking things through. I’m not sure that I want you to see Arnold at all at present. I just wanted to say this. Are you listening to me, Bradley?’

  ‘Yes, my dearest creature.’

  ‘You said some very kind and probably very wise things last time we met about friendship. I feel I was rather churlish – ’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘I want to say now that I accept and need your friendship. I also want to say – it’s hard to find the words – I’d be wretched if I felt you just saw me as a desperate middle – aged harpy trying to pull someone into bed to spite her husband – ’

  ‘I assure you – ’

  ‘It’s not like that, Bradley. There’s something I feel I didn’t make absolutely clear. I wasn’t just looking for a man to console me after a married row – ’

  ‘You did make it clear – ’

  ‘It could only have been you. We’ve known each other for centuries. But it’s only lately come to me – how much I really care about you. You’re a very special person in my life. I esteem you arid admire you and rely on you and – well, I love you. That’s what I wanted to say.’

  ‘Rachel, what a delightful thing, it’s made my day!’

  ‘Be serious for a moment, Bradley.’

  ‘I am serious, my dear. People should love each other more in simple ways, I’ve always felt this. Why can’t we just comfort each other more? One tends to live at a sort of level of anxiety and resentment where one’s protecting oneself all the time. Climb above it, climb above it, and feel free to love! That’s the message. I know in my relations with Arnold – ’

  ‘Never mind your relations with Arnold. This is about me. I want – I must be a bit drunk – let me put it crudely – I want a special relationship with you.’

  ‘You’ve got it!’

  ‘Be quiet. I don’t want an affair, not because I don’t want an affair, maybe do, it’s not worth finding out, but because it would be a mess and belong with all that anxiety and resentment you were talking about, anyway you haven’t got the guts or temperament or whatever for an affair, but, Bradley, I want you.’

  ‘You’ve got me!’

  ‘Oh don’t be so gay and flippant, you look so horribly pleased with yourself, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Rachel, don’t worry. I can be everything that you want me to be. It’s all perfectly simple. As Julian’s namesake remarked, obscurely but with élan, all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.’

  ‘I wish I could hold you to some sort of seriousness, you’re so terribly sort of slippery today. Bradley, this matters so much – you will love me, you will be faithful?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘A real true friend to me forever?’

  ‘Yes, yes!’

  ‘I don’t know – thank you – all right – You’re looking at your watch, you must go to your lunch date. I’ll stay here and – think – and – drink. Thank you, thank you.’

  The last I saw of her, through the window as I went off, she was staring at the table and very slowly making patterns in the beer drips with her finger. Her face had a heavy sullen dreamy remembering look which was very touching.

  Hartbourne asked after Christian. He had known her slightly. The news of her return must have somehow got around. I talked about her frankly and at ease. Yes, I had seen her. She was much improved, not only in looks. We were on quite good terms, very civilized. And Priscilla? She had left her husband and was staying with Christian, I was just going to visit them. ‘Priscilla staying with Christian? How remarkable,’ said Hartbourne. Yes, I supposed it was, but it just showed what good friends we all were. In turn I asked Hartbourne about the office. Was that ridiculous committee still sitting? Had Matheson got his promotion yet? Had the new lavatories materialized? Was that comic tea lady still around? Hartbourne remarked that I seemed ‘very fit and relaxed’.

  I had indeed decided to go to Notting Hill that afternoon, but I decided to return to my flat first. I had to refresh myself with some silence and solitude and thinking about Julian. So holy men return to temples and crusading knights feed upon the blessed sacrament. I felt a bit inclined to go home and stay home in case she rang up, but I knew this to be a temptation and I resisted it. If all was indeed to be well I must not alter the pattern of my life in any way: apart, that is, from the tidyings and reconcilings which I now felt so sure that I could effect. At a bookshop on the way home I stopped and ordered Arnold’s complete works. There were, of course, far too many to carry, and anyway they were not all in stock. The shopman promised to send them to me soon. Looking at a list, I realized that I had not even read all his books, and some of them I had read so long ago that I could remember nothing about them. How could I judge the man on that basis? I realized that I had been completely unjust. I smiled upon the shopman. ‘Yes, all of them please, every one.’ ‘And the poems, sir?’ ‘Yes.’ I had not even realized that Arnold had published any poems. What a skunk I was! I also purchased the London edition of Shakespeare complete in six volumes, to give to Julian in exchange for her Hamlet when the time came, and I went away still smiling.

  As I was just turning into the court I saw Rigby, my upstairs neighbour. I stopped him and had begun some cordial conversation about the fine weather when he said, ‘There’s someone waiting outside your door.’ I gasped and excused myself and quickly ran. A man, however, was awaiting me. A well – dressed distinguished – looking figure with a soldierly air.

  When he saw me Roger started to say, ‘Look here, before you tell me – ’

  ‘My dear Roger, come in and have some tea. Where’s Marigold?’

  ‘I left her in a sort of café down there.’

  ‘Well, go and get her at once, go on, I’d love to see her again! I’ll be putting the kettle on and putting the tea things out.’

  Roger stared and shook his head as if he thought I must be mad, but he went off all the same to fetch Marigold.

  Marigold was looking very dressed – up for town with a little blue linen cap and a white linen pinafore dress and a dark blue silk blouse and a rather expensive – looking red, white and blue scarf. She looked a bit like a musical comedy s
ailor girl. She was rounder however and had the self – conscious self – satisfied pouting stance of the pregnant woman. Her tanned cheeks were deeply ruddy with health and happiness. She smiled all the time with her eyes and one simply could not help smiling back. She must have left a trail of happiness behind her down the street.

  ‘Marigold, how lovely you look!’ I said.

  ‘What’s your game?’ said Roger.

  ‘Sit down, sit down, please forgive me, it’s just that you both look so happy, I can’t help myself. Marigold, will you be mother?’

  ‘I suppose this is some sort of sick joke?’

  ‘No, no’! I was serving tea on the mahogany night – table. I had put Julian’s chair well back out of the way.

  ‘You’ll be turning nasty in a minute.’

  ‘Roger, please relax, please just talk to me quietly, let’s be gentle and reasonable with each other. I’m very sorry I was so unpleasant to you both down in Bristol. I was upset for Priscilla, I still am, but I don’t regard you as wicked, I know how these things happen.’

  Roger grimaced at Marigold. She beamed back. ‘I wanted to put you in the picture,’ he said. ‘And I want you to do something for us, if you will. First of all, here’s this.’ He put a large gaping carrier bag on to the floor beside my feet.

  I peered down and then began to dig into it. Necklaces and things. The enamel picture. The little marble, or whatever it was, statuette. Two silver cups, other oddments. ‘That’s good of you, Priscilla will be so pleased. What about the mink?’

  ‘I was coming to that,’ said Roger. ‘I’m afraid I sold the mink. I’d already sold it when I saw you last. I agreed with Priscilla it was a sort of investment. I’ll let her have half the proceeds. In due course.’

  ‘She mustn’t worry,’ said Marigold. She had advanced her smartly shod blue patent leather foot up against Roger’s shoe. She kept moving her arm so that her sleeve lightly and rhythmically brushed his.

  ‘All the jewels are there,’ said Roger, ‘and the little things from her dressing table, and Marigold has packed all the clothes and so on into three trunks. Where shall we send them?’

  I wrote down the Notting Hill address.

  ‘I didn’t pack all the old cosmetics,’ said Marigold, ‘and there were a lot of old suspender belts and things – ’

  ‘And could you tell Priscilla we want the divorce to get going at once? Naturally I will make her an allowance.’

  ‘We won’t be poorly off,’ said Marigold, sweeping her sleeve across Roger’s. ‘I shall go on working after the little one is born.’

  ‘What do you do?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m a dentist.’

  ‘Good for you!’ I laughed out of sheer joie de vivre. Fancy, this charming girl a dentist!

  ‘You’ve told Priscilla about us, of course?’ said Roger, sedate.

  ‘Yes, yes. All shall be well and all shall be well, as Julian remarked.’

  ‘Julian?’

  ‘Julian Baffin, the daughter of a friend of mine.’

  ‘Is she the daughter of Arnold Baffin?’ said Marigold. ‘I do so admire his books, he’s my favourite writer.’

  ‘You must go, my children,’ I said, rising. I could not bear any longer not being alone with my thoughts. ‘I will arrange everything for the best with Priscilla. It remains to wish you both every happiness.’

  ‘I confess you’ve surprised me,’ said Roger.

  ‘Being beastly to you two won’t help Priscilla.’

  ‘You’ve been sweet,’ said Marigold. I think she would have kissed me, only Roger piloted her off.

  ‘Cheery – bye to my favourite dentist!’ I shouted after them.

  ‘He must be drunk,’ I heard Roger say as I shut the door.

  I went back to lying face downwards on the black woolly rug.

  ‘Guess what I’ve got in this bag!’ I said to Priscilla.

  It was the same evening. Francis had let me in. There was no sign of Christian.

  Priscilla was still occupying the upstairs ‘new’ bedroom with the rather tattered – looking walls of synthetic bamboo. The oval bed, which had black sheets, was tousled, doubtless just vacated. Priscilla, in a rather clinical white bath robe, was sitting on a stool in front of a low very glittering dressing – table. She had been staring at herself in the mirror when I came in, and returned to doing so after greeting me without a smile. She had powdered her face rather whitely and reddened her lips. She looked grotesque, like an elderly geisha.

  She did not reply. Then she suddenly reached out to a big jar of greasy cold cream and started plastering it upon her face. The red lipstick melted into the grease, tingeing it with red. Priscilla spread the pinkish mess all over her face, still gazing devouringly into her own eyes.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘look who’s here!’ I put the white statuette on to the glass top of the dressing – table. I laid the enamel picture and the malachite box beside it. I drew out a mass of entangled necklaces.

  Priscilla stared. Then without touching the stuff she reached out and took a paper tissue and began wiping the red mess off her face.

  ‘Roger brought them for you. And look, I’ve brought you the buffalo lady again. I’m afraid she’s a bit lame, but – ’

  ‘And the mink stole? Did you see him?’

  ‘Yes, I saw him. Now, Priscilla, I want to tell you—’

  Priscilla’s face, cleaned of the grease, looked raw and mottled. She dropped the soggy reddish screw of tissue on to the floor. She said, ‘Bradley, I’ve decided to go back to Roger—’

  ‘Oh, Priscilla—’

  ‘It’s no good. I should never have left him. It isn’t fair to him. And I think away from him I’m literally going mad. All chances of happiness are gone from me. Just being with myself is hell all the time anyway. And here in this meaningless place I’m with myself more. Even hating Roger was something, it meant something, being made unhappy by him did, after all he belongs to me. And I was used to things there, there was something to do, shopping and cooking and cleaning the house, even though he didn’t come home for his supper, I’d cook it and put it ready for him and he wouldn’t come home and I’d sit and cry watching the television programme. Still it was all part of something, and waiting for him at night in the dark when I went to bed, listening for his key in the door, at least there was something to wait for. I wasn’t alone with my mind. I don’t really care if he went with girls, secretaries in the office, I suppose they all do. I don’t feel now that it matters much. I’m connected with him forever, it’s for better and worse, worse in this case, but any tie is something when one’s drifting away to hell. You can’t look after me, obviously, why should you. Christian’s been very kind, but she’s just curious, she’s just playing a game, she’ll soon get tired of me. I know I’m awful, awful, I can’t think how anyone can bear to look at me. I don’t want to be looked after anyway. I can feel my mind decaying already. I feel I must smell of decay. I’ve been in bed all day. I didn’t even make up my face until just before you came, and then it looked so terrible. I hate Roger and the last year or two I’ve been afraid of him. But if I don’t go back to him I’ll just dissolve, all my inwards will come pouring out, like people who are just going to be hanged. I can’t tell you what the misery’s like that I’m in.’

  ‘Oh, Priscilla, do stop. Here, look, pretty things. You’re pleased to see them again, so there’s something that gives you pleasure.’ I plucked up a long necklace with blue and glassy alternate beads out of the pile and shook it free and opened it out into a big O to put round her neck, but she gestured it violently away.

  ‘Did he send the mink?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘I’m going back anyway so it doesn’t matter. It was kind of him to bring – What did he say, did he want to see me, did he say I was awful ? Oh my life has been such hell, but when I go back it won’t be worse than now, it couldn’t be. I’ll try to be resigned and quiet. I’ll try to do I ittle things, I’ll go to the cinema more. I w
on’t shout and cry. If I’m quiet he won’t hurt me, will he? Bradley, would you come with me to Bristol? I’d like you to explain to Roger – ’

  ‘Priscilla,’ I said, ‘listen, dear. There’s no question or possibility of your going back now, not ever again. Roger wants a divorce. He’s got a mistress, a young girl called Marigold whom he’s been living with for ages, for years, and he wants to marry her now. I saw them this morning. They’re very happy and they love each other and they want to marry each other and Marigold’s pregnant—’

  Priscilla got up and walked stiffly towards the bed. She got into it. It was like a corpse climbing into its coffin. She pulled up the bedclothes.

  ‘He wants to get married – ’ Her mouth had become flabby and her speech blurred.

  ‘Yes, Priscilla – ’

  ‘He’s had this girl for a long time – ’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She’s pregnant—’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So he wants a divorce – ’

  ‘Yes. Dear Priscilla, you’ve understood it all and you must face it all—’

  ‘Death,’ she murmured, ‘death, death, death – ’

  ‘Don’t give way, my dear—’

  ‘Death.’

  ‘You’ll soon feel better. You’re well rid of that heel. Honestly. We’ll make a new world for you, we’ll spoil you, we’ll all help, you’ll see. You said yourself you’d go to the cinema more. Roger will give you an allowance, and Marigold is a dentist – ’

  ‘And perhaps I could pass my time knitting little things for the baby!’

  ‘That’s better, show a bit of spirit!’

  ‘Bradley, if you knew how much I hated even you, you’d know how far beyond any human hope I am now. As for Roger – I’d like to stick – a red – hot knitting needle – into his liver – ’

  ‘Priscilla!’

  ‘I read about it in a detective story. You die slowly and in terrible agony.’

  ‘Please—’

  ‘You understand nothing of – the horror – no wonder you can’t write real books – you don’t see – the horror – ’