The Green Knight (42 page)

Lucas was silent. He made a slight gesture, as of sympathy and farewell.

Peter marched out, and, after a desperate look toward the other two, Bellamy ran after him. The front door slammed.

 

After the sound of the shutting door Lucas remained seated, pensive, gazing at the window. Clement waited for him to say something. As Lucas remained silent, Clement, like a spectator leaving the theatre after the performance is finally over, began to fiddle for his coat which was beside his chair, stood up, put his coat on, and walked round the desk. He walked along the room, picked up the sewing-chair which had been thrown over by Peter's violent exit, replaced the embroidered cushion, and put the chair back near the fireplace. He also moved the ladder-back chair to its place beside the bookshelves. Then he returned and stood in front of Lucas. As Lucas continued to stare at the window, Clement said, ‘Well, goodbye then.'

Lucas turned to him and said amiably, ‘Don't go away yet. Sit down somewhere.'

Clement retrieved his chair from behind the desk, placed it in front of the desk, and sat down opposite to Lucas. He thought, they are
both mad,
they are both crazy wizards.

Lucas went on, ‘It is interesting that he used that image of the heavens rolling up like a scroll. It occurs in Isaiah, and again in Revelation. In Isaiah it is reserved for God's enemies. In Revelation it is described as occurring after the opening of the sixth seal, when there is an earthquake and the sun becomes black and the stars fall and the sky departs. But
that
wouldn't have been Jewish reading. I wonder what sort of religious upbringing he had?'

Clement said, ‘It certainly seems to have included the idea of retribution.' He was feeling very tired and anxious to go away.

Lucas continued, speaking pensively in a dreamy tone, ‘The painters, you know, the painters, what they did for Christianity! But Christ too is portrayed by Michelangelo as vindictive, presiding over the Last Judgment and raising his fist! I wonder if there is in any sense life after death.'

‘Luc, you don't believe that!'

‘Not as it is traditionally portrayed, but it is conceivable that the brain may continue to operate in some twilit way, ticking on like a machine, after the body is technically dead, as is sometimes suggested.'

‘Yes, but people who recover and describe those scenes were never dead!'

‘Yes, yes, but there is a kind of awful plausibility, something like the Buddhist Bardo, or the Christian Limbo – and the Greeks pictured Hades as a twilit world.'

‘Luc, how can you talk like that – '

‘Of course he's right, he's only half alive, a zombie, a ghastly awful dummy, a puppet. The human mind is a weird place. There, there, Clement, I am just musing. As for the heavens rolling up like a scroll, that is more than plausible, our planet is a freak which we shall destroy by our own wicked senseless activities in the next century. Our history will very soon come to an end. Now that God is dead, we are at last presented with the truth, yes, the truth remains, but it is on a short lead. Anyway, we are nothing and it matters not what we do. Now I must get on with my work.'

‘But what did you make of all this? He seemed to be friendly, he talked about an olive branch, then he became awful. You shouldn't have taunted him.'

‘My dear boy,
you
taunted him, that was the turning-point. You know, I am now inclined to think that we have played this thing all wrong from the start.'

‘You mean we should have insisted it was a joke, a silly game, and you never intended – ? Nothing could be proved – '

‘Horribly undignified, unthinkable really. And he took us by surprise, after all we thought the fellow was dead. Oh never mind, what a nuisance he is.'

‘He's dangerous, he might do anything. And his idea of returning to that place, as if – '

‘Oh, I rather liked that, it's interesting, it has a certain charm – something good might happen, he might even manage to get rid of himself, he might go up in a puff of smoke. Symbolic punishment without bloodshed, that would need some concentration! Metamorphosis, a final solution! A gamble, he said, yes, yes – tell Bellamy to tell him I like it. You three can fix it up, only don't bother me with the details.'

 

 

 

 

Harvey had found the front door of Clifton closed but not locked, and had so far been unable to make contact with any of its inhabitants, though he believed that some were in the house. He had not rung the bell. He sat down, first in the kitchen, then on the stairs. It was about eleven o'clock in the morning. Sefton's door was open and her room was empty. After a while he ventured up the stairs as far as the first landing. Aleph's door was open and her room was empty. He peered into the Aviary, saw Sefton lying on the floor, and retired quickly. He could hear, from the next landing, from Louise's bedroom, a conversation including raised voices taking place between Clement and Louise. He returned to his place at the bottom of the stairs.

Had Lucas seen that stick, had he guessed who owned it and why it was there? Of course he has guessed, he
knew.
A component of Harvey's state of grief and terror was that before he had had that fatal conversation with Tessa about Lucas's sex life, and even after it too, he had so passionately wanted to see Lucas, to make peace with him, to
make friends.
He was increasingly haunted by that childhood episode, but had come to believe that if he could now as an adult meet Lucas on equal terms, with grace and dignity, he could somehow make a new treaty with him as man to man. He was
fascinated by Lucas
, he wanted to like him, he even wanted to
love
him, he wanted them to be, in some sudden blaze of light, intimate friends. Now everything was crippled, everything was twisted, everything was poisoned, like his foot. And he, Harvey, had done something terrible to his mother, he did not know what, but it was dreadful and forever. He did not want to see his mother, he did not want to think about her. Someone had gone into the house, it might not even have been a woman, it might have been a boy. Perhaps Lucas was a paedophile. And that patch of colour was just part of the counterpane. Perhaps it was all a hallucination. The only real thing was his stick, lying there sending out its terrible truthful signals.

 

 

‘Well, you're the only person who can really look after her.'

Louise was addressing Clement concerning Joan.

‘I don't see why,' said Clement wildly.

‘I think she's in danger. She rang me up and talked of being “hooked”. Is she on drugs?'

‘I don't know. Not yet anyway.'

‘But if you don't know – ! When did you last see her?'

‘A little while ago. I think she's gone to Paris to arrange the sale of the flat.'

‘Yes, she said something about that.'

Thank heavens, thought Clement, who had just invented this idea. Well, perhaps she really is in Paris. ‘Louise, I didn't come here to – '

‘You know Emil and Clive are coming back, Harvey will need his own flat. Someone will have to take her in, where can she go? We can't have her here, I mean there just isn't room. Supposing Harvey were to move in with you?'

‘No! What about Cora?'

‘She says she can't stand being bossed about by Cora. Please, Clement – we can't expect Harvey to – '

‘Louise, dear, I didn't come here to discuss Joan – '

‘Well, what – '

‘I came to see you, just to
see
you, to be
with
you, for God's sake!'

‘There isn't much for lunch.'

‘I don't want lunch, I don't want food!' Clement, who had only lately left Lucas's house after the ‘scene', had driven straight to Clifton. It was true, he just wanted to be with Louise, to be calmed by her, to feel her warm loving affection, to be reassured, to get a whiff of ordinary good life. Why was she so hostile, had Joan been talking to her about – ?

Louise had been sewing when Clement arrived, still shortening the long evening-dress which had hung for years unworn in her cupboard, a mere memento. Even now, she thought, as she stroked its soft, still brilliant, striped silk, it could only be a special occasions dress. But did she have special occasions any more? Even the children's birthdays were becoming a little less special. She felt love for the dress as if it were a wounded creature. She thought, perhaps I'll give it to Aleph. She had also thought that what had reminded her of the dress was the white silk scarf which Clement had given her. She had intended to tell Clement this and show him the dress. But when he appeared suddenly, looking so wild and pushing his way into her room so aggressively, she had randomly started to talk about Joan and now they were both upset, standing rigid and staring at each other.

Clement said abruptly, ‘Look, I have to see Bellamy, he won't be in yet, if he's not I'll have to leave a message. Could you give me a bit of paper and an envelope?'

Louise, frowning and shrugging her shoulders, found paper and envelope in a drawer and handed them to him. He stuffed them into the pocket of his overcoat which he had thrown on the bed. They resumed their confrontation. Her fear, his fear, their staring eyes.

She said, ‘Clement, I'm frightened.'

‘Don't be silly,' said Clement, ‘what on earth have you got to be frightened of? You're just fussing.' He added, ‘Oh – I'm so tired – and I ought to be at the bloody theatre.' He felt a strong desire to lie down on the bed.

‘I want to find out the truth, I want to know what really happened.'

‘What really happened, what, where? Oh that business, it's all over, there's nothing to find out – '

‘You know what I mean, that time – in front of the others – when you and Peter disagreed – it was so confused – and somehow
awful – '

He's ‘Peter' now, is he, thought Clement. Another sickening idea was occurring to him. ‘It was certainly confused. You probably can't remember – and
he
couldn't remember. You must realise he is still a sick man.'

‘I want to know whether Peter – I don't want to think he's either mad or lying – it must all have
meant
something.'

‘What must have meant something? Don't you see he's a damaged man, he can't think straight, that's all. Oh God, can't you just pity the poor fellow and leave it at that? After all, he's nothing to do with us!'

‘Clement – I feel there's something awfully wrong in all this.' Louise had been on the point of telling Clement about the three necklaces, but decided not to. She had also thought of asking him if he knew Peter's address, but decided not to say this either. She stood with her hands hanging at her side. She looked down at her dress where the sharp needle was trailing its thread. Some light from elsewhere, it must be sunlight, she did not turn to look, kept illuminating the needle and making it flash. She blinked, suddenly reminded of something which had happened before, she felt giddy, a sudden great cleft had opened between her and Clement. He was looking at her almost with hatred.

Clement made an impatient dismissive gesture. He said, ‘Is Aleph here? I'd like to talk to her.'

‘What about? She isn't here.'

‘Is she still going to the Adwardens' place in Yorkshire?'

‘Yes. She's gone over to see Rosemary this morning, they're not just staying in Yorkshire, they're planning a whole tour.'

‘So they're all back, and the boys too?'

‘Yes. Clement, what's the matter with you? Please tell me. I feel you are ill, I feel as if something's eating you, wasting you. I do wish I could help, I wish I could understand. You said such strange things about Peter wanting revenge – I don't believe it – '

‘I was drunk when I said all that. You think he's Mr Pickwick. He isn't, that's all. Just leave him alone. You haven't been making any overtures to him, have you?'

‘Well – no – not – '

‘Good. As far as you are concerned he's
over.'

‘I think I'll go and see Lucas.'

‘What
? Are you
mad?'

‘I want to know what – '

‘Louise, don't,
don't do it,
I forbid you – '

‘Clement, really – !'

‘He would be very cold and very angry and would upset you extremely. I told you not to meddle. You must
not
see Lucas. You would have nothing but trouble, you would make trouble for yourself and others. Believe me and do as I say.'

‘Surely I have a right – '

‘You are ignorant and you have no right – '

‘Don't shout at me!'

‘I'm not shouting. I'm very sorry Louise, I shouldn't have come here. I might have known – I'm so sorry – '

Clement got up and pulled his coat off the bed. He felt ready to weep. He felt
so tired.

Louise stood back. She said, ‘Moy is upstairs. She's decided to leave school. Don't make a noise as you go. I don't want her to know you are in the house, it always disturbs her so.'

 

 

Moy, well aware of the disturbing presence in the house, was lying on her bed propped up by pillows. Her legs and feet were bare, her blue shift, crumpled up, scarcely reaching her knees. She was wearing her lapis lazuli necklace which lay, a little slack, warm against her throat. Her long thick plait of blonde hair snaked over her shoulder and down between her breasts. Anax was lying beside her, his long hind legs spread out behind. He had propped his long nose upon her bare leg and upon the hem of her skirt and was staring at her with his uncanny light blue eyes which could sometimes look so cold and remote and undoggy. Moy touched his moist black nose with the back of her hand, then tickled it a little with the tufty end of her plait, inviting him to play. But Anax was not in a playing mood. His soft closed mouth was curled up a little upon one side, the dark line of the lip revealing a white tooth. She stroked him along his nose and over his brow, feeling for his strong shoulders under the stiff black and grey fur. He continued to stare, shifting slightly as if refusing her caress.