Â
Â
Â
âIt's still terribly foggy.'
âAnd he called her “Princess Alethea”.'
âHe said, “I feel you are my family”. He says he's going to buy a flat near here.'
âHow sickening.'
âI thought it was rather touching.'
âIt was impertinent, even sinister.'
âWell, he's probably joking a bit.'
âWe don't even know where he lives.'
Clement had not left after all. He was in Louise's bedroom. They were standing beside the window, where Louise had drawn back the curtain to study the fog. Clement had thrown his overcoat onto the bed. He had given his Venetian mask to Moy, and now regretted it. She had said she would keep it for him till next year. Next year! he thought. God knows where we shall all be next year! Louise was wearing her long white dress, with Clement's silk scarf clutched closely round her neck with one hand, while with her other hand she was nervously disordering her stiff brown hair. She let go of the scarf, letting it hang, and pulled the curtain back into place. The gesture reminded her of her first glimpse of Peter Mir when she had seen him down below, standing in the street and seeming to watch the house. She had been about to undress when Clement had knocked on her door. She had felt very tired and had looked forward to reading a little more of A
Glastonbury Romance
and then going to sleep. She had felt relief at the evening being over without any catastrophes. And now Clement had arrived, determined to tell her awful things which she did not want to hear.
âI think he means it.'
âWho? Oh, Peter â '
âSo he's Peter now!'
âHe kept insisting on it. Why are you so against him?'
âOh I'm not
against
him!' said Clement turning impatiently away. He sat down heavily on the neat bed. âExcept that â I've
got
to be â !'
Louise sat down at her dressing-table, now laying the long silk scarf across her knee. The smell of her cosmetics seemed suffocating, disagreeable, as if they were all
old.
Lately Louise had decided to give up wearing make-up altogether, but had not yet acted upon the decision.
As Clement did not elucidate this saying, Louise said, âHe was kind to Moy, he â '
âYes, what was that charade, I was meaning to ask you?'
âShe let him in and he went up to her room and they had a long talk and he asked her about the swan â '
âHe had no right to go up to her room! He pushes his way into this house and marches up to the girls' rooms!'
âI'm sorry, Clement, I asked a silly question just now. About that other time â and what happened â surely it was clear that he was simply mistaken, he was having delusions, he admitted he was all confused â he must have recognised this by now, he
must
have done, or he wouldn't have come here and been so nice to us all.'
Clement gave a long sigh and looked at his watch. âI'm afraid
you
are mistaken. What he wants is something in return.'
âIn return?'
âIn return for his life, for the ruin of his life. He wants revenge. He may seek it even here. He is a dangerous animal, he is ruthless.'
Louise listened. She felt very tired, she felt confused, she found that she
could not remember
exactly what had been said by Clement and by Peter in that confrontation. âBut he was perfectly nice to you at the party.'
âNo. He evaded me, he ignored me, we avoided each other, it was easy, it was like a dance, like a terrible dance. Louise, I must go home. I've talked too much.'
âI don't understand, is Peter angry because Lucas said he was a thief â he's not a thief is he â surely you can't believe
that
!'
âOh Louise, do leave it alone, you will never understand, at least I hope you will never understand! Leave it alone. Only â please â don't let that man into our lives.'
âI can't leave it alone. What does Lucas think?'
âI don't know, to hell with what Lucas thinks. I've drunk too much. I must go home now.' He rose and began to pull on his coat.
âClement, I can't believe it's as awful as you say.'
âNo, no, it isn't, I'm exaggerating.'
Louise rose and went to the door, putting her back to it. âBut, Clement, there must be some solution, some
clarification,
I can't bear it â '
âYou don't want to lose your picture of Peter Mir as a sort of teddy bear.' He came and stood before her and said softly,
âJust don't meddle.'
They stared at each other. For a second Clement closed his eyes and his face was contorted with pain. Louise held her hands together as if each hand were capturing the other. She stepped aside. The long white scarf which had been upon her knee had fallen to the ground. Automatically she picked it up and folded it and held it out to him.
âLouise, I gave it to you!'
âOh yes, of course, I'm so sorry! Well â goodnight â drive carefully.'
They stood still for another moment not moving, then he slipped quickly out of the door, quietly closing it behind him.
Louise stood quite still for a time, until well after the sound of his footsteps had died away. Then, moving slowly, she turned to the bed and drew back the wrinkled coverlet. Then she sat down on the bed and buried her face in the scarf.
Later, when she had at last undressed and gone to bed and turned out the lights, she lay on her back open-eyed. I run, I run, I am gathered to your heart. But no, she thought, it's not like that. I am alone. I cannot
reach
anybody.
Â
Â
Clement, realising he was indeed rather drunk, carefully held onto the banister as he descended the stairs. The lower flight of stairs was dark, the hallway was dark, the house was silent. He fumbled for some time at the door, dreading to discover that it was locked in some special way and he would have to crawl back up the stairs to Louise. At last the door, with a little noise, opened itself, and he paused in the doorway, letting in the cold muzzy air and the cold darkness outside where the street lamps could not penetrate. Then he heard in the silence a little sound, someone, breathing, softly, regularly, deeply â it was Sefton, fast asleep, within a few feet of where he stood. He edged out carefully, closed the door, unable now to prevent its sharp locking sound. He stumbled down the two steps to the pavement and stood there, fumbling for his car keys and trying to remember where he had left the car. His bare head felt very cold. He began to walk along the darkened empty street.
Oh God, what an absolute bloody fool I am, Clement said to himself. Why did I stay and talk to Louise? Now I've upset her and I've set her off
wanting to know. God,
I don't want her probing into this. Suppose she goes to Lucas? But no â she wouldn't dare to. All the women are frightened of him. But oh â what a dismal wretched part I am playing now. Surely I could have
got out
of it all â yet how? I am condemned to lead an utterly false life â now and â how can it end? It can't end. I've got to go on and on living with lies and mystifications. How on earth have I got into this trap? I, see now,
now
, how I am condemned to be cut off from all the people who were so near and dear to me, who esteemed and loved me â I've got to be a liar forever â and somehow â oh I don't deserve it, it wasn't my fault!
Clement, walking a little erratically and now murmuring his thoughts aloud, was suddenly, horribly, aware of another person, a huge form looming up beside him and bumping violently against him. A lightning flash of terror pierced him. He thought, it's the end, now I shall be robbed and killed. He tried to cry out but could produce only a little high sound and flutter his helpless hands in pathetic supplication as his assailant, gripping his shoulders with terrible force, drove him back against a wall. Then as the force became an agonisingly painful pressure there was a kind of silence as he helplessly ceased to struggle, became aware of what had so abominably happened to him, and gasped out, âDon't hurt me.'
Peter Mir, slightly loosening his hold, continued to pin him against the wall. Clement could feel his scalp being scraped against the bricks. He tried feebly to remove the hand, the huge giant hand, which spanned his throat. He could feel the bones of his throat giving way. âWhy did you lie? You didn't tell the truth. Why did you lie to them?' The pressure was released and Clement slipped down, almost falling to the ground. Mir now gripped him brutally by the shoulder, pulling him up and peering closely into his face. When Clement tried to turn his head away, Mir gripped his chin with his other hand. âWhy? Why?' Mir let go his hold, still leaning his heavy body against Clement. Then he moved suddenly gripping Clement by the arm and hustling him, dangling and dragging, across the frosty pavement. Clement lost his footing and stumbled against the long wet slippery surface of a large car. Mir, opening the car door with one hand, propelled him violently into the dark interior, then plunged in himself, roughly jostling Clement, who felt a sharp pain in his ankle.
For a moment they sat together in the back of the car, both gasping, Mir uttering an audible âPah! Pah!' and pressing up against Clement. Clement, trying to find his voice, was interrupted by Mir.
âBut
why
?'
âWhy what?'
âWhy did you lie to them?'
âWhat did you expect me to do? Why should
they
be upset and made miserable? They at least are out of it. There's no need to involve me â not just because I don't want to be involved, but it would
do no good.
Why confuse and upset all those innocent people? Consider
them.
What was I supposed to tell them? After all what do
we
know â we don't
know â '
âWhat do you mean, what don't we know?'
âWhat would have happened if you had not intervened.'
âIt is obvious what would have happened.'
âIt would not be obvious in a court of law. And it is not obvious to me. I am sure Lucas didn't want to kill me, he couldn't have done, it was a charade, he just wanted to frighten me! You don't know him, I know him! I told
them
you were innocent and they believed me. There is no point in stirring it all up. Why should we burden them with all this horror? Please now leave them alone.
Please.
Enough has been said.'
âEnough has been said! That is your solution, is it, that solves everything? What I desire and what I deserve is justice, and I shall have it. You admitted to me that you knew â '
âWhen did I admit anything?'
âWhen you thanked me for saving your life.'
âI was simply recognising you! Can't you take in that it is
not possible
to prove that Lucas intended to kill me? He sent me away simply to protect me â I swear that he did not â '
âNow you have changed your tone, and what you say betrays you. You shall be exposed as a liar. Justice and truth will destroy you both.
They already know â '
âPlease
do not see them, leave them alone, leave the girls alone â '
âAnd you have mean despicable motives. I shall talk to them in my own fashion, they must know the whole truth.'
âDon't threaten us like this. I shall tell them you are dangerous, I shall tell them you are mad.'
âDangerous, yes. With the innocent I shall be innocent, and with the devilish, a devil. As for you, I shall see that you are punished. Now
keep out of my way
.'
Mir leaning across Clement opened the door of the car and pushed him violently. As Clement was stumbling out he was pushed again, then punched in the back. Wailing, he began to run away at random.
My dear son,
Thank you for your letter and please excuse a delayed reply, I have been in retreat. Our communication with others can have no value unless it is truthful. We must be, for each other, in the truth. Your recent letters are becoming, it seems to me, increasingly more expressive of Byronic romanticism than of the spiritual ecstasy which I believe you imagine yourself to be experiencing. The fault is partly mine for having encouraged a correspondence which I now think to be at the moment not helpful, but a positive obstacle. I beg you to reflect humbly upon your situation, making a serious endeavour to distance yourself from the self-gratification which you mistake for adoration of God. The greedy cunning self has many ways of deceiving; as I know well in my own imperfect struggles! He said, âI am the way, the truth and the life'. We are all of us far distant from that way, that truth and that life. Always tell yourself that the truth lies beyond, and ponder this quietly and darkly. A true ecstasy is the reward of very few. A positive desire to suffer, to be, as you put it, in hell and spurned by Christ, a desire to be destroyed: these are familiar daydreams, fictions contrived by the evil one who dwells at home in the soul of man. I begin to feel that our correspondence may be engendering in you simply illusions, and that anything I say to you becomes in you illusion. This is of course my fault. One of the greatest temptations is the self-consoling wish to be the saviour of another's soul. There is only one Saviour. Think about your happiness, and how you can be happy in helping others. You need society and ordinary friendships. I begin to think that you ought not to live alone. Your âdepression', if I may continue to use the word in a general sense, may be partly caused by a lack of regular employment. Do not spend your time âwaiting for the call' or imagining that you will shortly be entering a religious house. I suggest that you do not write to me now for a considerable time. I think an interval may refresh us both! (Regard it, if you like, as a penance!) I will write to you later on. Do not answer this letter. You are in my loving thoughts and my prayers.
Yours
in Christo,
Fr Damien
P.S. As for the famous mouse who ate the Holy Sacrament, I have been told on good authority that he has become a favoured pet of Our Lady!
My dear Father,
Please forgive this instant reply to your last letter. Yes, yes, I understand about what you are telling me about being in the truth and how far away from it I am. But I must see you. I feel it is a time of crisis in my life. In fact I have found another person, I mean a
spiritual
person, one whom I
revere
, who is quite literally struggling with the devil. Only I can help him. But you must help
me.
I would like very much to bring him to you, though I fear he might not agree to come. Please say that I may come to see you in the near future, with or without my noble but unhappy friend. I am so sorry to write like this, disobeying your request, but the matter is urgent.
I am very sorry.
Penitentially and with love,
Yours,
Bellamy
Â
My dear son,
Please
do not come
here. I shall be
absolutely unable
to see you. As for your spiritual friend, I think you should proceed with caution. This is not a moment for you to form strong emotional attachments, such attempted ârescues' often drag down both the âsaver' and the âsaved'. This can be the region of the demonic. I hope you will understand me, though I write without knowledge of the case. As I said,
do not write.
I will communicate with you at a suitable time.
Pray
â pray every moment. I pray for you. Pray for me.
in Christo,
Fr Damien