by Iris Murdoch
On this occasion Edward had no difficulty in finding the house. The sun was shining and the day had established itself as a warm summer day, a London summer day with a London light and dustiness and haze of green trees and resonance of sound and emergence of colour which can seem, according to one’s mood, so genial and festive and full of spacious celebration, or so stifling and oppressive and full of ghostly nostalgia. Edward saw how tired all the trees looked already, their leaves drooping and grimy, and the streets were full of sad echoes. As he approached Mrs Quaid’s house he felt a now familiar sense of danger, and of something shady and disagreeable, even bad. The street door was unlocked as usual and he pushed it open and went soft-footed up the stairs. Mrs Quaid’s door was shut and he stood outside it for a while, feeling a sudden revulsion, unable to decide to knock. At last he knocked, timidly, indecisively. There was a long silence. No one came. Edward, looking at the worn dusty carpet, the banisters sticky with dirt, the dense mass of particles floating in the air, revealed by the sun shining through a landing window, felt sick with a pointlessness and loneliness which deprived him of his sense of himself. He felt a fright at not existing, a feeling of the entirely precarious nature of identity, such as healthy people leading ordinary lives sometimes receive as a sudden quick glimpse of insanity and death. Since it did not matter what he did, he tried the handle of Mrs Quaid’s door, found the door unlocked, opened it and went in.
The corridor inside was dark, all the inner doors being closed. In the light from the landing Edward began to fumble along the wall searching for an electric switch. As he was doing this the door at the far end which led into the big room opened and an indistinct woman with a cap on her head and a necklace round her neck stood in the doorway. Edward said, ‘Mrs Quaid — ’ But he had realised at the same moment that it could not be Mrs Quaid. His hand found the electric light switch. The woman at the doorway took a step towards him and said, ‘Edward.’ It was Ilona.
‘Oh my God!’ said Edward. For a moment he actually considered whether he had not become mad, whether he had transformed the image of Mrs Quaid into that of Ilona in his mind. He closed the door behind him and sat down on a chair against the wall.
‘Edward, dear, however did you find me?’
‘Find you,’ said Edward. ‘I wasn’t looking for you. You can’t be here, it’s impossible. This is a crazy place full of ghosts and hallucinations. It’s not you. You look different.’
‘I’ve had my hair cut off.’ What Edward had taken for a cap was Ilona’s hair, cut close to her head.
‘Oh Ilona, I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it — ’
‘That I had my hair cut? They did it very well — ’
‘No — being mad like this, everything being mad — ’
‘Edward, I’m so glad to see you. Don’t sit out there like a cat. Come in, come here.’
Edward got up and followed her into the big room which looked almost exactly as it had done on the last occasion, the chairs piled on each other in a heap in the corner, the armchairs by the fireplace. A table had been pulled into the middle of the room. The thick furry curtains had been thrust well back and the room was full of bright light, Edward could see through the window a sunlit wall close by, a tree beyond.
Ilona did indeed look different. Her closely cut short hair made her look boyish and also older, almost sophisticated. Her green dress which was narrow and smart and rather short added to the impression. She wore high-heeled shoes. Only the necklace, one of her old ones, looking oddly out of place, recalled her previous persona. ‘Look, let’s choose a chair and sit down. I’ll have this one, you can have this one. I don’t like those armchairs. Let’s sit at the table. I’ve been writing letters.’
Ilona pulled a chair out of the heap and set it at the table near the one on which she had been sitting. They sat down and looked at each other.
‘Ilona, you left them — ’
‘You mean them at Seegard — yes — ’
‘You couldn’t bear it — what happened — Jesse — ’
‘Oh I left before that — I left after you went, almost at once — I’ve been in London for ages.’
‘Ilona! But you do know — about Jesse being dead — ?’.
‘Of course, I read about it, it was in all the papers.’
‘You read it in the papers?’
‘Yes. Edward, please don’t be so intense.’
‘I don’t understand. And you haven’t been home? I can hardly believe you’ve left Seegard. I feel you must still be there, as if you couldn’t leave — ’
‘As if I’d crumble to pieces in the outside world? As you see, I haven’t.’
‘And you’ve been in London all this time and you didn’t tell me, didn’t get in touch — ’
‘I was going to — I wanted to get a job first.’
‘You came to London all by yourself?’
‘Yes! I’m not such a silly girl as you think.’
‘But — look — why are you here, why on earth are you here — were you expecting me?’
‘No — why are you here if it comes to that? How did you know where I was?’
‘I didn’t. Mrs Quaid lives here. I came to see her.’
‘Then you didn’t know — she’s dead.’
‘Oh — I’m so sorry — how awful — ’ It did indeed seem to Edward something awful, something uncanny and doom-laden. He said, ‘She’s dead too’, as if death were catching and Jesse had infected her. ‘But she can’t be dead. I mean I saw her a few days ago.’
‘She died a few days ago. She must have died just after you saw her. The funeral was yesterday only I couldn’t go. She’s had cancer for ages. But you know her, do you? How do you know her?’
‘I came here to a seance — that was before I came to Seegard — I never told you because it was so weird and extraordinary, I felt rather secretive about it — and a voice told me to — to come to my father — ’
Ilona, the new Ilona with the cut hair, was looking at him intently. ‘You mean you got a message?’
‘Yes. Well, it seemed like that. Then Mother May’s letter came. I didn’t tell about the message, I didn’t want her to feel there was any reason except her letter, and anyway it would have sounded perfectly mad — ’
‘How strange — I didn’t know you knew Dorothy — Mrs Quaid — ’
‘I only saw her twice. The second time I — oh never mind — But you still haven’t said why you’re here, here today in this house? Did you come to consult her — too?’
‘I live here.’
‘You — ?’
‘When I came to London I came here, I had to have somewhere to stay. Dorothy Quaid is an old friend of Mother May, she knew her at the art school, she used to teach textile design before she developed her gift. She’s the person who used to take all our jewellery and stuff to London to sell.’
‘You mean she knows you — she knew you all — she knew Jesse — she’s been to Seegard?’
‘Yes, I said, she’s an old friend.’
‘So that explains it — or rather — it doesn’t — I’ll have to think — and you’ve been here all this time — ’
‘How did you come across Dorothy?’
‘That was by chance — if there is such a thing. A girl called Sarah Plowmain gave me a card, she’s the daughter of Elspeth Macran who used to know your mother, I think — Oh dear dear Ilona, I’m so glad to see you. I was so sorry not to see you at Seegard on that day — but of course you’d already gone earlier — ’
‘What day? Have you been at Seegard?’
‘Yes, didn’t you know? I suppose they don’t write and it’s all just happened. I found Jesse.’
‘You mean you — ?’ .
‘I found his body. Oh — did the papers say anything about that? I haven’t seen any newspapers, I’ve been rather — ’
‘No, there was nothing about you.’
‘I suppose they didn’t want to bring me in — they didn’t say — I found his bod
y in the river — I — ’
‘Don’t tell me about it now, please.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you.’
‘I’m not upset. Of course I am upset. But I knew he was dead. Ever since he disappeared I knew that he was dead.’
‘How did you know?’ said Edward. He stared at her new closed grown-up face.
‘Just a feeling, an intuition, a quite certain feeling.’
‘He was in the river. What do you think happened?’
‘As we shall never know,’ said Ilona, ‘it’s better not to think.’
‘You don’t imagine — well, you’re right. Better leave it. I feel — such awful grief and shock — I kept believing he was alive.’
‘I got over the shock earlier. I cried then. I’m over it now.’ As she said this Ilona’s eyes filled with tears and she bowed her head over her beads.
Edward got up and touched her shoulder, touching the soft cool material of the dress, then he touched the sleek hair which glittered so in the bright sunlight and felt so smooth, he felt the warmth of her head and wanted to stroke her gently, but his gesture remained awkward and unfinished. Ilona shuddered, then got up, found her handbag on the floor, took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. They resumed their seats.
Ilona said, ‘What did you think of my mother’s memoirs?’
‘Oh,’ said Edward, ‘has she published them? I haven’t seen — ’
‘Something came out in a newspaper. I expect someone will show you.’
‘I’ve been awfully out of touch. So I expect you’ll go back to Seegard now?’
‘No. But I’m leaving London.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Paris.’
‘Paris?’
‘Yes. I’ve never been there.’
‘But, Ilona, you can’t go to Paris alone. I’ll come with you.’
‘I won’t be going alone.’
‘Ilona — what have you been doing since you came to London. Did you get a job?’
‘Yes. I’m a dancer in Soho.’
‘You don’t mean — ’
‘Yes, I’m a stripper.’
‘How can you — ’
‘Very easily. You must come and see me. Don’t be shocked. Look, here’s a card, it’s called the “Maison Carrée”. It’s a job, I had to do something to earn money, I couldn’t just go back and say I couldn’t — and the only things I can do are dance and make jewellery — and — ’
‘Dance — yes — ’ Edward recalled what he had seen in the sacred grove. ‘You’re a wonderful dancer.’
‘How do you know?’
‘You must get a real job, with real dancing, in ballet or — ’
‘It’s too late for ballet. Maybe I will get another job later on. Things happen quickly in Soho.’
‘But did you go to Soho on purpose?’
‘I didn’t really do anything on purpose. I thought Dorothy would help me to get a job in the jewellery trade. She was always rather fond of me, you see. Then just as I came she got much more ill — that was so terribly sad — though of course we knew it had to happen — I didn’t expect it — ’
‘Poor Ilona — ’
‘She was such a nice person — ’
‘Don’t cry, I can’t bear it — ’
‘Oh such a lot has happened to me — ’
‘What else?’
‘Edward — you know what attracts poltergeists?’
‘What? Yes.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t attract any now.’
‘Oh my darling,’ said Edward. But he already knew.
‘You see — I asked you to look after me — and you wouldn’t — and now someone else does — ’ Ilona’s eyes, which had filled with tears, now overflowed, her mouth was wet and she mopped her chin with her handkerchief, she looked defenceless and childish like the old Ilona.
Edward jumped up again. He felt such an intense desire to protect her, to gather her to him and shield her, together with a dreadful hopeless remorse, and he groaned to think how much in the future he would suffer for this too. He even said, ‘It’s too much, it’s too much — ’ He stood near her wringing his hands.
‘Oh don’t worry,’ said Ilona, dropping her soaked handkerchief on the floor and trying to dry her face with the back of her hand, ‘I’m all right. I’m going to Paris next week with Ricardo, he’s one of the people at the strip joint.’
‘But they must be awful people.’
‘Ricardo isn’t, he’s gentle and — he’s in theatre really — ’
‘I suppose he’s Italian.’
‘No, he’s from Manchester, he had a terrible childhood.’
‘Ilona, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. And they aren’t awful. There are all kinds of other people. It’s all somehow happened as it had to happen, I’m pleased with how it happened.’
‘But what about Mother May and Bettina?’
‘They don’t need me. They’re strong. I have to follow my own path now. Of course I’ll go back to see them later on.’
‘Dear dear Ilona, dear sister, I wish you’d let me help you now, I’m so unhappy, I need someone to love and look after, don’t go away with Ricardo, stay with me.’
‘No, no, it wouldn’t do. Look, I’ve got to go soon. I have to rehearse something, I’ll get in touch with you when I come back. I’ve no idea when that will be, and I’ll have to find somewhere else to live, but I’ll get in touch, really.’
Ilona had risen and moved toward the door. Edward followed her. He said, ‘I can’t bear your going away, now that I’ve found you, I can’t bear it, please stay, I love you.’ He stared down at her cap of beautifully cut red-golden hair, like the shining fur of some delightful animal, and was able now to reach out and place his hand upon her. He stroked her hair, and as he touched the round of her head he felt through his fingers the electricity of her whole body. He drew his hand firmly down onto the back of her neck, and then stepped away. They looked at each other.
‘I’m glad to see you, Edward. There’s something I want to say to you. In those memoirs, just the bit they published, I’ve known for years my mother was writing some sort of diary, she never showed it to us, she says somewhere that she has had consolations — ’
‘Consolations?’
‘Love affairs. Jesse had love affairs. She says she had too. Of course it must have been long ago.’
As Ilona paused, making this sound like the end of her statement, Edward said, ‘And — go on — ’
‘Just that.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Edward.
‘Leave it then, better leave it anyway, I must go, I must bathe my eyes and put my make-up on.’
Edward stared down at her upturned face, so small and lean without the great mass of hair. He said, ‘Oh no — ’
‘Leave it. It’s like that other thing.’
‘Are you saying that Jesse might not be your father?’
‘He might not be. But we’ll never know. So it’s no use imagining.’
‘Now you’ve said this how can we not — ’
‘Bettina resembles Jesse and I don’t, but of course that doesn’t prove anything — ’
‘We could have a blood test — but no, Ilona, no — we can’t start investigating — it’s unthinkable — ’
‘I agree.’
‘How strange. Jesse once said he hoped I’d marry you. I reminded him you were my sister, I wonder if he thought you weren’t.’
Ilona shook her head and said nothing.
‘Is there anyone you think might be your father?’ Everything they were saying was so terrible. Edward thought, we must stop this.
‘No. There was a man, he’s dead now, I think he was Jesse’s lover, and then Mother May took him away, but I haven’t any reason to think — it’s just that I somehow remember about him — he was a painter, his name was Max Point.’
Edward was about to cry out at the name, but stopped, covering his mouth with his hand
. He would have to think about that one. He said, ‘I suppose — not now but later — we could ask your mother — ’
‘No, we couldn’t. No, no. She couldn’t bear it. She might say anything.’
‘You mean we couldn’t believe her, or she mightn’t be sure, or — ’
‘She couldn’t bear it. And if it all got confused.’
‘No, I see what you mean, we can’t, better to leave it alone. There’s nothing to be done.’
They stared at each other with a long sad stare, lips parted. ‘Anyway,’ said Edward, ‘I love somebody else.’ It struck him as a bizarre thing to say, what did ‘anyway’ mean?
Ilona sighed and turned her eyes away. ‘I wanted to say it to you — now it’s said and gone.’ She went back to the table and picked up her handbag. ‘I must be off, I’ve got a lot to do, I’ve got to get some contact lenses and buy some clothes and go to the club. You know, Jesse’s a sex hero since those memoirs — you look just like his picture — you can have any girl in London.’
‘Ilona, don’t talk like that! I’ll see you before you go to Paris?’
‘Better not. I’m glad we met here. We’ll meet again later. I’ll know myself better later. You could come and see me dance, but just to watch, don’t try to — ’
‘I don’t think I’ll come,’ said Edward. ‘I don’t want to see you dance there. I’ll see you dance at Covent Garden.’
‘I shall never dance at Covent Garden. Goodbye, dear Edward.’
They looked at each other again. Then Edward came and took her round the waist as if they were to dance together then and there. He kissed her on the cheek, then on the lips. ‘Oh Ilona, sweetheart, be my sister, I shall need a sister as the years go by.’
Ilona pulled away and opened the door. ‘I’ll just go and wash my face, and fix my make-up, I’ll be away in a minute.’
‘I’ll walk with you — ’
‘No, I have to hurry. Just stay here for a little while, then go. I’ll unlatch the door, close it when you leave.’
‘Where can I write to you?’
‘You can’t. I’ll write. I know your father’s address, your stepfather’s address, I looked it up. Goodbye.’
