Clement had achieved his great ambition at last. He was playing Hamlet. He was dressed in black and white and so were all the other members of the cast, since the director had decided that this was to be a black and white production. It was also, as it happened, a ballet, but Clement had no difficulty in learning the steps. He was only a little surprised to find how easy ballet dancing was after all. He could already float across the stage without touching the ground. A continual beating, almost thumping, of heart-rending music accompanied him. He was flying, flying was easy too. He thought, this is like Peter Pan. Good heavens, perhaps it
is
Peter Pan? No, it can't be. Now he was down on the ground confronting a woman, only this woman was two women, and the two women were his mother and Ophelia. They were dancing too, standing one behind the other and swaying to and fro as if they were the
same person
, they were teasing him, they were
tormenting him
, the music was faster and louder. He thought, I
can't dance
any more, in a moment I shall fall, I shall
faint
. I need help. He tried to scream.
He woke up. Sefton, having tapped on the door, had entered. He sat up quickly, remembering where he was. He clasped the neck of his shirt, he felt his heart.
âI thought I'd better wake you. There's some breakfast downstairs.'
âOh â is everyone up?'
âYes, but we all get up very early.'
âIs there any news?'
âNo, but the post hasn't come yet.'
âDid I scream?'
âWhat?'
âDid I scream?'
âI didn't hear you scream.'
Sefton lingered for a moment, then went out closing the door. Clement dressed with great speed, folded up the bedclothes and put them back in the cupboard. He could not recall his dream but the horror of it stayed with him. He dreaded coming downstairs. He thought, I can't stay in this house, it is
doomed
.
He came into the kitchen and found Louise, Moy, and Sefton all sitting sedately at the table. A place had been laid for him. Louise and Moy said âGood morning.' He said, âGood morning.' The next question must be: Did you sleep well? Louise said, âDid you sleep well?' âYes, very well.' Sefton offered him eggs and bacon, which he refused, and toast, which he accepted with no intention of eating it. He also accepted some coffee. No one else was eating.
Clement, pulling himself together, said to Louise, âDo you still want to go to the clinic?'
Louise said, âDo I still want to? Of course I do.'
âWhy go there?' said Sefton. âSurely they'll tell us if there's anything to tell.'
âI think Peter could help us,' said Louise. âI mean help us to find Aleph. I feel their fates are bound together.'
The girls exchanged anxious glances.
âIt's worth trying. I'll drive you there. At least it's something to do.'
Louise said, âSefton, you'll stay here, won't you?'
âI'll stay here,' said Sefton.
There was a gloomy silence. Clement tore up his piece of toast and pretended to eat some of it. He felt a bit light-headed as if he might faint. He thought, it's simply hunger. Except that I can't eat. I want to go home. Only I've got to drive Louise to the bloody clinic. I had some awful dream. Then he recalled with terrible vividness the sight of Peter's knife approaching Lucas's naked side, he saw the line of the ribs and the point of the knife entering the skin and the blood flowing. He got up hastily, then sat down again. He felt he was going to be sick. He said to Louise, âI'm just going up to the Aviary. Please come up when you're ready and we can make a plan.' He thought, I want to lie down somewhere. But I can't and mustn't lie down.
He got up again and went out into the hall. At that moment the post arrived, with several envelopes fluttering to the mat. Clement at once noticed an envelope with the name of the clinic conspicuous on the outside. He picked it up and went back into the kitchen. âLouise, it's from the clinic.' Louise, also already risen, seized the envelope, and after scratching it vainly with her hasty fingernails, managed to tear it open. She drew out the white typewritten sheet and read it. She handed the letter to Clement across the table. She sat down. Clement read it quickly.
My dear Mrs Anderson,
It is with the greatest distress and sorrow that I report to you the death of our patient Mr Peter Mir, who died quietly and peacefully yesterday evening. I hasten to bring you the sad news, since I know how much you and your children and friends cared about Mr Mir; and he for you, as he spoke of you all as his âfamily'. You will be consoled to know how very much your support and affection gladdened and enlivened the later days of his life. Hoping to recover, he spoke of you often and looked forward to a meeting which can now alas not take place. I am, I may say, well aware of the anxiety with which you parted from him on that evening. Let me assure you that his interests were, by our intervention, best served. He would not, in any case, have survived. It is indeed a miracle that, after the violent blow which he received, he has lived as long as he did. He was kept alive by his courageous will to accomplish certain ends (you will I think know what I refer to) and, these accomplished, he relaxed into a calm submission to an inevitable death. I write this letter to you, taking you as being the âmother' of the âfamily', and trust that you will, at your discretion, inform his other friends. He was, in his way, a great man, certainly a remarkable man, and within his last year found the affection and warm friendship for which he had so long craved. He was, in the end, after the amazing burst of energy of which you were all at times witnesses, exceedingly tired and ready to sleep. My colleague, Dr Richardson, joins me in sending our sincere sympathy.
With kind regards,
Yours sincerely,
Edward Fonsett
Clement said to the girls, âPeter Mir is dead.' He put the letter down on the table. Sefton picked it up and read it, and passed it to Moy. Louise was sitting still, one arm stretched out on the table where she had reached to give Clement the letter. She was very pale, her eyelids drooping, her lips trembling and parted in a woeful grimace, as she gazed down at her other hand which lay upon her lap. She murmured, âTheir fates are bound together.'
Clement said sharply, âLouise, don't talk nonsense! As the doctor says, Peter was certain to collapse after all that manic activity. I expected this. We all did.'
âI didn't,' said Louise.
Moy was crying. Louise began to cry. Sefton went out into the hall. Clement sat down beside Louise and drew her towards him, putting his arms around her.
Out in the hall, Sefton picked up the letters which were still lying there. There were two bills. Underneath, there was another letter, with a London postmark, addressed to Louise. Sefton recognised Aleph's writing. She held it and stared at it. She moved on into her bedroom and closed the door. She sat upon her bed. She opened the letter.
Dearest dearest Louie,
I write this with grief, though also, as I shall explain, also with joy. I have never never wanted to hurt you, even the tiniest bit, and I know that what I have to say will hurt you â but I hope and believe that later on you will understand and be able to be glad in my gladness. I am sorry I am not writing a good letter â I delayed writing for reasons which will be plain, and now write in haste, as I know how worried you must be. I am going to America with Lucas. When you receive this letter I shall be there. He will take up a university post. (He has had lots of invitations.) I shall continue my studies. We shall be married. I have, all my life, been deeply in love with Lucas. He is the only person I could dream of marrying. I love him absolutely, he loves me absolutely. I know that we shall make each other happy. He has not known too much happiness in his life. I am daily and hourly glad to see how much happiness I can bring him now. Please please believe that our union is inevitable and will be happy. I am very sorry that I concealed all these things from you, and from Sefton and Moy. At first it was almost âtoo good to be true' for both of us, and then, during the period in which Lucas was away, after the episode with Peter Mir, he just had to be alone. During this time we corresponded â he disguised his writing, I was so afraid one of them might be opened by accident! We have both of us gone through an ordeal in perfecting our relationship, which makes us now all the more certain of our felicity. This letter comes simply to bring the news, which, when the shock is over, you may not find after all so dreadful! We will meet again before long, dear dear Louie, you will come to America, you and Sefton and Moy will come, and we shall visit you in England. I know that you will forgive us, you will
have
to forgive us, and when you see us together you will know everything is right and good. Oh my dear mother, you desired my happiness, and Sefton's and Moy's. I hope and pray that they will, when the time comes, be as happy as I am, and I hope that you will always be happy because you are so good and so true, and that you will also and always be happy in my happiness.
Â
We shall be moving about a bit, but when we have a settled address I will send it. Then please, my dear dear mother, write to me and say that you forgive me and that you wish us well! I am very sorry that my sudden departure may have caused you anxiety. I shall write later to Sefton and Moy. Give them my eternal love. And to you, with my eternal love,
Yours,
Aleph
Sefton closed her eyes. A violent flush burnt in her neck and blazed in her face. Holding the letter in her hand she bowed her head down to her knees. She groaned, she
wailed
. She gasped for breath. She stood up and looked out of the window. Outside it was frosty and still. The leaves had fallen from the trees. A few snowflakes were wandering in the quiet air. A great sword pierced Sefton's heart. She too had loved Lucas with her own kind of deep secret love, and it seemed to her in this moment that, if he had asked her, she would have gone with him anywhere. She had treasured that secret love, never revealing to anyone her profound feelings about her great teacher, enlivened by the belief that, though he was utterly inaccessible,
she,
in her own humble way, was
nearest
to him.
Sefton, the soldier, threw back her head and checked tears. She thought, I have lost Aleph too, whom I love, yes, with an eternal love. We shall meet, but as strangers. It is the end of an era. A whole part of my life is torn away. And oh poor Louie, poor poor Louie. She went back into the kitchen.
Moy, still crying, was washing up. Clement was sitting beside Louise with his arm round her shoulder. Louise saw Sefton's face and thrust Clement away. She took the letter which Sefton handed to her. Clement moved away and stood up. Moy moved from the sink, putting her hands up to her face. Louise read the first part of the letter and then put it down. âShe has gone away with Lucas, they have gone to America, she is going to marry him.'
Clement said, âOh
no
!' and turned away and leaned his head against the wall. Moy sat down close beside her mother, caressing her arm and nestling against it.
Sefton, trembling and shuddering, sat down at the table and buried her face in her hands. Louise finished the letter and gave it to Moy, who read it. Moy passed the letter to Clement. Clement read it and then, afraid of the terrible silence, said to Louise, âAnyway, she's safe and well and even happy!' He went on wildly, âSo I suppose now ordinary life can continue. We don't have to worry about her any more. We've been mad for two days. Now we can be sane and get on with our own lives!'
Louise said, âDon't blame her.'
âI'm not blaming her,' said Clement, âI'm sure no one here is blaming her â I'm just suffering from shock! I think she could have spared us these two days. Perhaps it didn't occur to her that we'd worry!' He added, âIsn't it strange! Peter brought them together after all. Lucas couldn't have endured Peter getting Aleph! As for all those letters, can they have been love letters? When did he decide to grab her, I wonder?'
Moy got up and went back to the sink and continued to wash the cups and plates and put them in the rack.
âThere now, look at Moy, she's gone back to ordinary life already! And in a few minutes Sefton will return to her history books, and I shall go to my agent and get myself a job, any job. And Louise will go out shopping.'
The doorbell rang. Everyone jumped. Sefton ran to the front door. She called back, âIt's Harvey. I'll tell him.' She closed the kitchen door.
Louise gave a little moan and then began to sob. Clement moved in beside her. âLouise, stop crying, I command you. I love you. Here's my handkerchief. Don't cry so,
I can't bear it
. I'm suffering from shock too!'
Louise, checking her sobs, said, âHe will destroy her.'
âOh nonsense, how can we judge, they may just as well be very happy. Or else she may come back, she could come back tomorrow!'
Louise said, âShe will never come back.' Then, âI'm going up to my room. We must send the news around. Would you mind ringing the others and telling them about Aleph and about Peter? Tell them not to ring up and not to come round. I'm terrified somebody will come.' She got up and ran up the stairs. From the upper landing she called down to the hall, âAnd then leave the telephone off the hook.'
âLouise, wait,
wait
. What shall I tell them â I mean about Aleph â shall I just say that she's written and she's all right, or that she's gone to America, or that she's run off with Lucas, or what?'
Without hesitation Louise replied, âSay it all.' Her bedroom door closed. It opened again. âAnd, Clement, please after that
go home,
will you.
Don't stay here
. Go and see your agent, like you said. I'm very grateful to you. But please
go home
.' The door closed again.