Authors: Iris Murdoch
‘Except Gerald.’ The remark sounded suddenly cynical, but Marian had not meant it so and was relieved that Effingham did not take it so.
‘Indeed. Perhaps Gerald really loved her best. I don’t know why, but it never occurred to me for a second to think of Gerald as capable of having any interest in Hannah as a human being –’
‘It never occurred to me either.’ How funereal it was, talking about her as if she were dead, or at least gone.
‘Anyway, that remains a mystery. And I suppose it is our last tribute to her to let it remain a mystery.’
‘Yes.’ Marian bowed her head. She began to think of Denis once again.
‘Well, perhaps indeed Gerald understood her as a human being, as a real person. And I realize now that I didn’t. At least not sufficiently, evidently not sufficiently. I was too moved by –the story. But then so was she –’ He looked away in a sort of puzzlement. ‘Marian, do you think we could have some
tea?
‘My dear, I’ll make you some. It’s no use ringing. I think half the maids have gone.’
‘No, no, stay here, let me go on talking. Anyhow, whatever it was which would have made me able to help, I hadn’t got it, I couldn’t even
see.’
‘So – she has set us free,’ said Marian, returning to her idea. She felt for the first time, perhaps Hannah is now herself happy, and not just the cause of happiness in others. It was a strange beautiful thought.
‘Oh, Marian –’ said Effingham, as if much moved. He covered his face for a moment. ‘I am sorry.’
Marian looked at him with puzzlement. ‘Don’t grieve for her,’ she said. ‘She is free too.’
‘You don’t understand me. I must go on and say it all. Alice-‘
‘Alice-?’
‘Well, yes. There it is. And I didn’t know. I didn’t know, really fully know, until she said all those things about Denis, you remember, about Denis and the salmon pool.’
‘Denis and the salmon pool. Yes.’
‘Marian, I’ve known her so long. And things can grow up inside one without one’s noticing. And then suddenly they leap out into consciousness, into the world. It can happen.’
‘I know it can happen!’
‘And when it happens in that way it happens with such completeness and such authority. You see, I’ve so much relied on Alice, so much taken her presence here for granted. In a way she’s – the real side of the story, the real person, the real object of love. It’s as if I’d been, all the time, looking into a mirror, and only been vaguely conscious of the real world at my side.’
‘I’ve felt something like that too, Effingham –’
‘Oh, understand me! This is so painful. I’m telling you that I’m in love with Alice, suddenly, deeply in love.’
Marian rose to her feet, and he rose with her. So that was it. The dazed look in Effingham’s eyes had been happiness, the achievement at last of a real action. Hannah had so beautifully sent them all away in their different directions.
‘Marian, Marian, please don’t grieve or judge me harshly. I’ve known Alice so long. Ever since she was a child. Please understand and forgive. We have known each other such a little while, you and I. You are young, you’ll soon feel better –’
What on earth is he protesting about, Marian wondered. Then it suddenly came to her: he thinks I’m in love with him! The idea filled her with such a rush of hilarity that she had to turn away from him to conceal her face.
‘Please, don’t be in pain –’
Marian composed her features and turned back. ‘Dear Effingham, don’t be upset for me. I shall be all right.’
‘Ah, you are so kind.’
These things happen, Effingham. One must be brave.’
‘You
are
brave. And so considerate.’
‘What would be the point of being otherwise. I wish you and Alice every possible happiness.’
‘And so generous! Honestly, it’s all happened so quickly, I hardly know where I am. I feel much better now I’ve told you.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I shall recover.’ It was naughty perhaps to deceive him. But he would suffer no sleepless nights for her. And she was, with that enlargement of one’s sympathy for others which one’s own happiness can bring, genuinely glad for him and for Alice. It was like a comedy by Shakespeare. All the ends of the story were being bound up in a good way.
She was facing the door, looking away with her composed face over his head. The door opened and Denis came in. Her face scarcely changed, but she greeted him with triumph.
‘Oh, Denis,’ said Effingham, ‘good morning. Do you think you could get us some tea?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘And some whiskey, if you can find any,’ said Marian.
‘Surely. I’ve got some locked up. It’s been disappearing lately.’
They smiled at each other. I am free, thought Marian, as she watched him out of the room, we are free. She lifted her hands in a gesture of expansion and well-being.
‘You see, I just didn’t
expect
it,’ Effingham was going on. He was obviously fascinated by his predicament.
The tall sash-windows to the terrace had been pushed right up and a warm breeze stirred the yellowish lace curtains. Listening to Effingham’s murmur, Marian looked through the window at the sea beyond, a very pale blue washed with silver. There was a distant ship. The scene, just as she was about to leave it, was becoming real to her. It had been too beautiful before.
A tall figure darkened one of the windows and Violet Evercreech entered the room. Marian rose with the slight chill which Violet’s advent always brought, and Effingham fell silent.
‘Well, children-‘
‘Good morning, Violet.’
‘Packed your bags, Marian?’
‘Not yet. Is Hannah going – now, soon?’
‘You want to get it over, don’t you? You both feel you are sitting out the end of some rather tedious film, don’t you, where you already know what’s going to happen?’
Marian felt uneasy, guilty, before Violet. She hoped Violet had not seen her looking happy. She said lamely, ‘No, not like that-‘
‘But perhaps you
don’t
know what is going to happen, perhaps there are still surprises, turns of the story –’
‘What do you mean?’
‘While you are playing ring-a-roses others are working the machine.’
The machine?’
A figure appeared at another of the windows and Alice Lejour stepped into the room. ‘Morning all. Hello, Marian dear.’ She kissed Marian.
Marian thought distractedly, now I shall have to keep up this fiction with Alice for ever. Perhaps she would not, in the future, see them again, perhaps that would be better. But what was the future? She was frightened by Violet’s presence and by her enigmatic words.
Denis entered through the door with a large tray with teapot and cups, whiskey and glasses. He set it down and began without a word to pour out. Alice sat on the arm of Effingham’s chair and Marian and Denis drew together near the bookcase. Alice and Effingham began to murmur to each other in low voices. It was like a funeral party. Marian thought, now we are all gathered together, it must surely be the moment of departure. She listened to sounds elsewhere in the house.
There was a distant sound, and her heart jerked, half with fear, half with a sort of exhausted relief. Someone was coming noisily down the stairs, but not slowly, not solemnly. It was a sound of running feet. The sound approached and a moment later Jamesie threw open the door and came running into the room.
Jamesie was transfigured. He had resumed his dandified fancy-dress appearance and his eyes were alight with a strange glee. All his features seemed to have been pulled upward so that he even looked taller. He bounded in, like Puck, like Peter Pan, a graceful youthful authoritative apparition.
He advanced lightly, almost mincingly, into the centre of the room.
There was a tense silence which Marian broke nervously. ‘Hello, Jamesie. Is Hannah just going?’ The words sounded suddenly mean. Violet Everscreech laughed.
‘No.’
‘When, then, do you know? Soon?’
Jamesie looked at them all, his gay intent look moving from face to face. ‘Good news. She is not going. She is not going at all.’
Effingham and Alice rose to their feet. Marian looked at Denis. His face was strained back as if a great wind were pressing it. Violet laughed again.
Effingham moved forward as if taking charge of the party. He said, ‘Look here, Jamesie, don’t joke with us. Would you please explain what you mean?’
‘Just that. Hannah is not going. Everything is going to be just like it was before. Isn’t that splendid?’ He twirled about on one foot, harlequin-like, spreading his arms.
‘Look here,’ said Effingham. He looked tired and stupid. ‘What on earth do you mean? What about Peter?’
‘Peter isn’t coming. It was a false alarm. He didn’t get on to the boat after all. He sent another cable. He’s going to stay in New York. So we can all settle down again. Isn’t it too lovely?’
Marian stared at him, dazed and horrified at things not yet fully understood. Over his shoulder she could see the men carrying Hannah’s trunks back into the hall. One of the black maids came in and removed the tea-cups. So everything would be the same as before. And yet it could not be, it could never be.
Effingham said, ‘Is this true, Violet?’
‘So, my friends,’ cried Jamesie. ‘Back to your posts! Back to your tasks! Unpack your suitcases! Our happy family will not be broken up. For all shall be restored, revived, renewed, and far more beautiful than it was before!’
‘Do not listen to him!’ Violet spoke quietly not vehemently, looking at her brother. ‘Do not listen to him. You are all on the point of departure. There is no occasion for you to change your plans. You have all found good reasons for going, you have been longing to go, you could hardly wait. Take your good hour and go. Later on, it may be too late. Go now, I tell you. Leave this place. You can do no good here any more.’ Effingham was looking at Alice. Alice’s face was grey and lumpish. She stared stolidly in front of her. Marian’s first thought was, yet let us go!
‘Of course we are not going.’ It was Denis.
Marian turned, almost surprised, to look at him. It was as if something had physically pushed her from him. Then, from the doorway, another voice joined in.
‘I am glad to hear that, Denis. I trust that after this little upset we can all settle down amicably and get on with our jobs as before. There is no need to prolong this drama, which was based anyway upon a misunderstanding. So may I suggest that we all disperse to our usual places and let this rather unhealthy atmosphere dissipate itself.’
Gerald Scottow was leaning against the door. He looked larger, browner, healthier than ever before. His big well-shaven face glowed, ruddy with power. He smiled upon them and his eyes especially sought out Marian. She sat down abruptly on the arm of a chair.
Jamesie sprang to Gerald, poised in his familiar way under the shade of Gerald’s tallness, ready to dart away like an arrow in any direction to do his bidding.
‘Go, go, I tell you! This will end in blood!’ Violet’s voice wailed and faded. She receded through the white lace curtains. The sky outside had darkened. It was beginning to rain.
‘I’m going home to lunch.’ Alice set herself in motion and tramped across the floor. After a moment’s hesitation, during which he tried to look at Marian but didn’t quite manage it, Effingham went with her.