by Iris Murdoch
‘Thank you, we’ll wait outside,’ said Harry. He went to the door and made another attempt to open it but failed. No one moved to help him. He came back and sat on one of the chairs. Midge, affecting to fiddle in her handbag, still stood. Then Jesse came in.
At first no one noticed him. The Interfectory door was in shadow and he moved in silently. He was leaning on a stick which after a moment made a tiny tapping sound on the floor.
Ilona, who was the first to see him, cried aloud ‘Jesse!’ and ran to him. Without attending to her he put a hand on her shoulder to support himself and looked round the room. Jesse was imposing. Huge-headed he stood like a magisterial prophet supported by an acolyte. He was dressed in dark trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt. His dark beard and hair were combed, his lips were red and moist, his large prominent round eyes glowed, he was barefoot. He looked about him frowning upon the sparsely lit room into which the mist from outside seemed to have penetrated.
Mother May moved forward. She said, as if this were some ordinary social scene embarrassingly intruded upon by an ill person, ‘Please excuse him. Come along now!’ She pushed Ilona away, causing him to stumble slightly, and began to try to turn him round, but without seeming to notice her he resisted, half turning and looking back over his shoulder with his bright reddish-brown eyes. He looked toward the table, then suddenly forced Mother May away from him and advanced, thrusting his head forward and glaring. Then he said in a ringing voice, ‘There’s a dead man, you’ve got a corpse there, it’s sitting at the table, I can see it.’ He pointed his stick at Stuart. Stuart got up.
Jesse went on raising his voice further, not hysterically but in a tone of urgent command. ‘That man’s dead, take him away, I curse him. Take that white thing away, it’s dead. The white thing, take it away from here.’
Bettina came in through the front door with her overcoat on. She went towards Jesse, then stopped beside Mother May and spoke to her.
Mother May said sharply to Jesse, ‘Stop that, at once, come along, come to bed!’ Jesse flourished his stick at her and she retreated.
Bettina said, ‘The men will have to deal with him. It’s like that time when we had to have the tree men in.’
Stuart, who was still standing, moved back a little, still facing Jesse, like a man backing out of a royal audience. He bumped against a chair.
Jesse, no longer attending to Stuart, moved on into the middle of the room, looking intently at the ring of people who were staring at him. He stopped, then he seemed to tremble and dropped his stick, he uttered a low wailing sound. He said, not loudly, ‘Will no one love me, will no one help me, will no one help me, will no one come to me?’
Mother May and Bettina, and Ilona too, had followed him, but he suddenly began flailing with his arms and they retreated hurriedly.
Midge pushed her scarf back from her face. She took it off and dropped it on the floor. Then she took off her coat. She went toward Jesse slowly, turning her head to the lamp so that he could see her face, and stopped in front of him and put her hands upon his shoulders. She said, ‘I love you, I’ll help you. Dear Jesse, it’s all right, it’s all right.’
Jesse started, he hunched his shoulders, his mouth opened and trembled. He peered at her. She kept her hands firmly upon him, gathering him a little. Jesse said at last, almost whispering, ‘Chloe — they told me you were dead — no one tells me the truth — now — I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me — such a long long time.’ And he put his arms around her. Midge began to cry with audible sobs which were silenced when Jesse began to kiss her. With closed eyes, in rapt absorption, arms locked about each other, they stood there kissing passionately, kissing hungrily, quickly, unable to get enough of the longed-for food.
Mother May said in a tone of disgust but without emphasis, ‘Oh what a vile mess!’ She put a hand on Midge’s arm to drag her away but the two figures were entwined together. Mother May and Bettina stood looking at them with an exasperated calm.
‘Can’t we propel them,’ said Bettina, ‘get him out of here anyway. Let her do it.’
Mother May said in a piercing voice, ‘Mrs McCaskerville, could you please just help us to get him back to bed? He is seriously ill.’ She began to prod Midge violently in the back. Jesse’s bare feet began to slide forward upon the slates passing between Midge’s feet, and as she moved, unable to sustain his weight, he fell down heavily, first sitting, then lying full length. He lay still with his eyes open, breathing heavily. Midge twitched herself angrily away from Mother May’s hand.
Mother May called, ‘Edward!’
Edward, who was still standing at the other end of the hall, ran forward and knelt, putting one arm under Jesse’s arm. Mother May began to lift him on the other side, and Jesse, suddenly revived, began to scrabble with his feet and allowed himself to be pulled upright. He consented to be led toward the door of the Interfectory, only resisting for a moment to point to his stick, which Mother May picked up from the floor. He did not look back. His arms still held on either side by Edward and Mother May, he disappeared. The door closed after him.
Harry, who had remained seated throughout this drama, got up. He glanced at Midge who was standing beside the door crying, her face in her handkerchief. Then he walked over to the table, sat down, and poured himself out a glass of wine. Stuart a little way from him also sat down. He put one hand on the table but was trembling so much that the knives and forks began to tinkle. He took his hand away and gave it to his other hand. He sat trembling, looking down at his clasped hands. Harry stared at him with curiosity.
‘Well, son, sorry for this embarrassment.’ Harry reflected that he had never called Stuart ‘son’ in his life before.
Stuart muttered, ‘Oh don’t worry, I mean there it is — ’
‘There, as you say, it is. Must be a bit of a shock.’
Stuart said, ‘Meredith told me, only I didn’t believe him.’
‘What?’
‘He said she — he didn’t say who — ’
‘Meredith. Oh God.’ Harry was about to ask: does Thomas know? Then he thought, what the hell does it matter what Thomas knows. He’ll know everything soon enough. This is the end of Midge’s marriage. This is the catastrophe I was hoping for. How I wish I’d told Thomas ages ago, as I wanted to, told him straight and not been meanly found out like this. It’s a nasty bloody mess, not what I’d have chosen — still it’s just as well really, it’s all happened at last, and I’ll just keep her now. I’m sorry about Stuart — but he’d have had to know anyway. And Meredith — of course it’s sickening — But all I’ve got to do now is keep my head and be as ruthless as hell.
Bettina said to Harry, ‘The car is outside. Hadn’t you better get off? Would you like to go to the lavatory? Mrs McCaskerville, would — ? No, all right.’
Midge, no longer crying, but with her back to the scene, ignored Bettina. She was standing, as if in deep thought, holding the back of one of the chairs.
‘What about sandwiches?’ said Bettina to Harry. ‘Ilona, could you make some — Ilona — ’
Ilona, who had pulled a chair away from the table to her place beside the tapestry, and was sitting with her face in her hands, did not move.
‘No, thank you,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s go. Come on, Midge. Goodbye, Stuart. Please thank Mrs Baltram — ’
‘If we can’t do it with the car I’ll have to come back for the tractor, but I don’t suppose you’ll want to — Ilona, you’d better go to bed.’ Bettina picked up Midge’s coat and scarf and handbag from the floor and put them on the chair beside her. Harry held Midge’s coat while she obediently groped for the sleeves, he saw her desolate swollen face which yet wore a fierce strange expression.
Bettina repeated, ‘Ilona, go to bed. At once.’
Ilona rose and without looking at the company ran to Transition and went through the door, slamming it behind her.
Stuart, as if awakened by the noise, leapt up. He said to Harry, ‘Could you wait a moment, please. I
want to come with you, do you mind? Just wait, I’ll get my stuff, I won’t be long.’ He ran off, following Ilona.
Midge turned furiously to Harry, ‘We can’t take him, we can’t!’
Harry, coolly, said, ‘I don’t see why not, I don’t see that it matters a hang. He knows all about it anyway, Meredith told him.’
‘Meredith told Stuart — oh — no — I never told you — Meredith saw — ’
‘He saw us — what did he see? Hell — I told you we shouldn’t be in your house — ’
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘Well, there you are. I expect Thomas knows by now. We’re blown, thank God. We’re on our own now, Midge.’
‘Do you want to wait for him?’ said Bettina, who was standing listening to these exchanges.
‘Thomas needn’t know — I’m sure he doesn’t — ’
‘He soon will!’
‘Neither Stuart nor Meredith will tell Thomas.’
‘Won’t they?’
‘I don’t want anything to happen yet — ’
‘But, Midge, think what’s happened already!’
‘Not yet — I don’t know yet — not like this — ’
‘Do you want to wait for him?’ said Bettina.
‘We can’t take Stuart, I won’t have it!’ said Midge, stamping her foot.
‘Yes, we’ll wait,’ said Harry to Bettina. He said to Midge, ‘Look, he’s my son — ’
‘You say this now, to me — ’
‘He doesn’t seem to be persona grata here, I’m not going to leave him behind in this hell hole — ’
‘You want to take him so as to compromise me further, so as to have a witness, so as to ruin everything — ’
‘You call it ruin, I call it liberation! It doesn’t matter, don’t you see — ’
‘He hates us, he’ll bring us misfortune.’
Stuart appeared with his coat and suitcase. He said apologetically, ‘So sorry to keep you all waiting.’
‘Come on then,’ said Bettina, and led them out onto the terrace, illuminated by the outside light, and across to the car.
‘So it wasn’t Chloe — ’ said Jesse. He spoke quietly, dreamily. He was lying on his bed, in his shirt, holding Edward’s hand.
Mother May was standing on the other side of the bed holding a glass of brown liquid.
‘No, my darling,’ said Edward. This mode of speech seemed suddenly natural. Of course Jesse was his father. But he was, as if now filled up to the brim, so much more: a master, a precious king, a divine lover, a strange mysterious infinitely beloved object, the prize of a religious search, a jewel in a cave. It was as if, in this sudden limp quietness, Jesse had gently, almost imperceptibly, imparted himself. Edward felt his heart bursting with reverence and love. ‘But don’t you worry, don’t you grieve. That was Chloe’s sister. Chloe is dead. She died long ago.’
‘Of course,’ said Jesse, ‘I remember. She looks so very — so very like Chloe.’ He was calm, more lucid, and peacefully rational than Edward had ever seen him. This change filled Edward with hope and joy.
‘She did tonight. She looked just like pictures of her.’
‘You can’t recall your mother?’
‘Not very well, hardly — ’
‘I can see her face in my mind so clearly. I loved her very much.’
Edward heard the car start. The sound diminished down the track and disappeared into silence. He said to Jesse, ‘Oh don’t be sad, dear dear dear Jesse. It matters so much that you shouldn’t be sad. I’m with you, I’ll look after you. I’ve found you for ever and ever. I love you.’
‘They’ve gone,’ said Mother May.
Edward began kissing Jesse’s hands. Jesse smiled a little as if touched and embarrassed.
‘Leave off,’ said Mother May. ‘Go along now Edward. I want Jesse to rest. I’ll sit with him. He’s had a shock. He’s given us all a shock.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ said Edward. He had such a strange feeling, the feeling of being terribly in love. The prospect of leaving Jesse was agonising. He stood up. ‘Dear Jesse, dear sweet good Jesse, think of me in the night. I’ll think of you.’
‘I’ll dream of you — Edward — ’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Yes, tomorrow.’
Mother May opened the door and Edward ran out.
The Atrium was empty, the table untouched except for Harry’s empty wine glass. Edward hurried on into Transition and sped up the stairs into West Selden. He hurried to the end bedroom, knocked and went in. No sign of Stuart. Then he saw that the room was cleared, all Stuart’s things had gone. Stuart had gone. This came as a weird unnerving surprise. He had, at that moment, depended on Stuart, wanted to talk to him about what had happened, wanted to know what Stuart thought, what to think himself. He felt frightened and alone. He went back to his own room and lit the lamp and sat down on the bed. So Stuart had gone off in the car. Actually it was just as well. Seegard was Edward’s place and Edward’s problem, Stuart was not a help, he was simply dangerous. Edward wondered if he was hungry and should go down to the kitchen and find something to eat, but he had not the will. He felt a bit sick and intensely upsettingly excited. And there was nothing left to do now but to go to bed.
Or was there? He went into the darkened bathroom and looked out. East Selden was dark except for a little lamp light showing from Ilona’s bedroom where the shutters had been half closed. Ilona was over there, by herself. Mother May was with Jesse. Bettina was out with the car. Edward felt, I must talk to somebody, I couldn’t possibly sleep. What on earth happened this evening, what did it mean, how does it affect me, ought I to do something about it? Why were they there, was it because of me, will they say it’s my fault, what have they been doing, whatever will Thomas think? Does Harry need me, does Midge need me, ought I to have gone with them, ought I to go tomorrow? But of course I can’t go, I must stay. As he reflected, the whole background of his life now seemed in chaos. Midge and Harry turning up together, whatever did it mean? Perhaps it was all an accident, it needn’t mean anything special. Yet why were they there, had they come to fetch him away, they didn’t say so. Or did they? He couldn’t remember. And Josse calling Stuart ‘a dead man’ and ‘a white corpse’. And Jesse thinking Midge was Chloe, and Midge kissing Jesse. It was all a nightmare. That image of her holding Jesse in her arms and kissing him so passionately upset Edward very much indeed. That would travel with him like a sinister icon.
Edward thought, I must see Ilona, and now’s the perfect chance. He carried the lamp into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He needed a shave and a little impulse of vanity made him, before he checked himself, reach for his razor. He combed his hair, patting down the long dark front lock, and after reflection took off his jacket. He adjusted his shirt, opening another button. He thought he looked older, more gaunt and hawkish. He narrowed his eyes. Then he sprang long-legged out of the room and down the stairs.
The connecting corridor was pitch dark, with no light visible at the other end, but Edward had often looked along it in daylight and he strode confidently forward. At the end he touched the wall, pivoted around, and felt for the curve of the stairs which would, he imagined, duplicate his own stairs. He was right. His foot found the first stone step, and he silently padded his way up. At the top there was a faint sense of light, and after a moment his darkened eyes made out the dim smudgy streak of light at the base of Ilona’s door. The silence, as he stood there, daunted him. Arms outstretched he tiptoed to the door and listened. No sound. He tapped softly on the door. Then again. He listened to his own fast breathing. Then he carefully turned the handle and moved the door.
Ilona was asleep. The faint lamp was upon a table beside her low bed. She lay on her back upon a reddish brownish surface which Edward took at first to be a sheet or quilt, but which he now saw to be her undone hair. The ribbons which she had woven into her plaits earlier in the evening also appeared here and there among the tresses. Her head was a little
turned to one side and tilted back, with a hand and forearm twisted in behind it, in an attitude which might have expressed anguish had not her sleep set a seal of peace upon it. The other arm lay outstretched upon the disordered blanket with the palm open in a gesture of acquiescence or submission. Ilona’s lips were open and her low slow breathing just audible. The closed eyes exhibited the long eye-lashes whose light colour had made them, before, less conspicuous. In repose her small face had lost its animal pertness, the cheeks less prominent, the mouth without animation, childish, gentler. The sheet and blanket had been thrust down to reveal the delicate skin of her vulnerable stretched neck, the rounded embroidered collar of her blue nightdress and the shape of her small breasts. She looked, lying there, so helpless, so fragile and frail, as if it could hardly be imagined how she stayed in being at all.
Edward had closed the door and approached. For a moment he towered beside her, huge as his shadow. He felt amazement, then a deep pang of some sort of ashamed humility, and a new different chaste fear. His presence seemed dangerous to her, and he wondered if he ought not immediately to creep away. The bed, set against the wall, was small and narrow, low down, a divan, not a fine upstanding bed like his own. It was almost as if Ilona were lying upon cushions and coloured cloths piled upon the floor. Edward adjusted his own breathing and then very cautiously fell upon one knee beside her. Now he wanted to come closer, if possible to feel the waftage of her breath. His open anxious lips approached her lips. He paused, then drew back, and very quietly brought his other knee down to the floor and sat back on his heels. He felt an excitement composed of power and gentleness, conscious of their solitude together, of the house round about them silent and dark, and the dark clouded night outside the half-shuttered window.
Then Ilona awoke. He saw her eyes flutter open, close, then open again. She lay quiet a moment gazing upward. Then with a movement as swift as a leaping cat she sat up, recoiling against the wall. Edward quickly sat back upon the floor farther from the bed. Ilona’s face, glaring at him, expressed intense fear.
