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Authors: Iris Murdoch

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BOOK: A Fairly Honourable Defeat
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‘Yes, I think Tallis is probably in for a bad time,’ said Axel thoughtfully.
‘Why now especially?’
‘Morgan will make—some ghastly muddle.’
‘Poor Tallis.’ And poor Morgan, thought Simon. Poor poor Morgan. Proud Morgan. I must try to help her, he thought. I shall go to her. I shall help her to pick up the pieces. And with the phrase ‘pick up the pieces’ a curious thrill of pleasure shot through him. He would enjoy that somehow, helping Morgan to pick up the pieces.
The car turned into Priory Grove.
‘Oh do look at that poodle, Axel. Isn’t he perfectly sweet?’
‘Don’t be soppy, dear boy. Yes, he is rather nice.’
‘I do wish we could have a cat, Axel. Don’t you think we could?’
‘It would be too much of a responsibility, Simon. We did agree about that before, you know. We’re out all day. How would it get in and out?’
‘We could have a cat-flap.’
‘A cat-flap! Sorry, no!’
‘I would accept the responsibility. And think of the pleasure of a beastie in the house!’
‘One beastie in the house is quite enough! We’d be enslaved by the animal.’
‘But I’d love that!’
‘ “If you want to eat spaghetti you must use your teeth.” Wittgenstein.’
‘I don’t think Wittgenstein really said any of those things you say he said!’
‘Hell, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere to park.’
‘When I first knew this road there wasn’t a single car in it.’
‘You make that remark every time we go to Rupert’s.’
‘Sorry to be such a bore, darling!’
‘No, no, it’s rather nice and cosy to hear these repetitions.’
‘Axel!’
‘Yes.’
‘The way your hair grows down the back of your neck drives me completely and absolutely crazy.’
‘Good show.’
‘Will you love me forever?’
‘Haven’t the faintest idea.’
‘I’ll love you forever.’
‘Decent of you. Could we get in there, I wonder?’
‘No, I don’t think so. You’re Apollo and I’m Marsyas. You’ll end by flaying me.’
‘That’s an image of love, actually. Apollo and Marsyas.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘The agony of Marsyas is the inevitable agony of the human soul in its desire to achieve God.’
‘The things you know.’
‘The things you failed to learn at the Courtauld.’
‘I don’t believe it though. Someone is flayed really. And there’s only blood and pain and no love.’
‘You think our planet is like that.’
‘I think our planet is like that?’
‘No redeeming grace?’
‘None at all.’
‘None, Simon?’
‘Well, only this kind.’
‘What do you mean,
only
this kind? Now, Simon, please,
not
just outside Rupert’s house!’
CHAPTER THREE
 
‘OH HELLO MY DEARS!’ cried Hilda, jumping up.
Axel and Simon emerged through the French windows into the garden. Simon lifted his hand against the dazzle from the flickering blue pool.
‘Sorry we’re late, darling,’ said Simon. ‘Here, we’ve brought you a tiny bouquet with lots and lots of love. Let me kiss you. Hello, Rupert. Whoopee and all that.’
‘We congratulate you on the longevity of your married bliss,’ said Axel. ‘Evening, Rupert. We meet again.’
‘Oh Simon, what wonderful flowers and so
many
of them! I don’t think anyone has ever given me such a huge bunch in my life. You’re positively staggering under it!’
‘Good, I hoped to break a record.’
‘Let me refresh them in the pool. Then I’ll find a vase directly. Axel, could you open this bottle of champagne, you do it in such a masterly way and Rupert always smashes something. I’m afraid Rupert and I seem to have drunk nearly a whole bottle while we were waiting for you!’
‘Very sensible of you,’ said Simon. ‘Now we must catch up. Gosh, it’s hot. We expected to find you
in
the pool.’
The cork flew out and plopped neatly into the water. Creamy champagne flowed into four glasses.
‘Happiness, my pets!’ cried Simon. ‘Happiness!’
‘Happiness!’ they all said and drank.
‘I’ll just put these in a vase,’ said Hilda. Carrying the flowers she moved across the hot flagstones and into the darkness of the house.
In the sudden coolness of the drawing room she paused. After the bright sun the room was for a moment almost invisible, a matrix of dusky colour splashes and points of dim light. Hilda laid the flowers down on the table. She sighed, yielding herself to float lightly in a cool murk of rich colour, spreading out her hands as if to caress velvety colours about her in the air. She thought, I am a little drunk. It’s nice.
After a few moments the room began to assemble itself, the cloudy colours to withdraw themselves into familiar surfaces. Hilda looked into the tall round-topped segmented gilt mirror which rose above the mantelpiece to see how her make-up was competing with the sun. A gilded cupid with a ready bow, airborne at the apex, gazes silently down as Hilda burrows in a little brown silk woven vanity bag for lipstick and powder. She peers intently at the thrust out face, radiantly perky, though now perhaps becoming just a little plump. If the head is not carefully carried there is a double chin. Dark natural curls frame the face and cascade in rings to the neck. The famous angel-look. Should not this hair be dyed before the grey becomes too apparent? Prominent grey-blue eyes scrutinize the image, behind which the trinkets of the room crowd and glitter. Moist pink lipstick is quickly dabbed, orange brown powder lightly dusted onto shiny sunburnt nose and cheeks. Hilda approves herself.
She turned again to the garden, The sharp division between sun and shade made it seem far away, separated from her as if by a proscenium arch. Axel and Rupert were talking, just inaudibly, tilting their canvas chairs forward towards each other. Simon had taken off his socks and sandals and rolled up his trouser legs and was sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs plunged in the water almost to the knee. He had plucked some camomile and was smelling it luxuriously with his eyes closed. How crumpled his trousers will be, thought Hilda. She sighed again and felt a familiar ache which made her put her hand to her breast. I’ve been so lucky all my life, she thought. It would be unjust if I were not sometimes a little intimidated by my joy. She thought then of Peter and moved her hand as if to make a sign of blessing in the air. Peter will be all right, she thought, and felt certain of it in that moment. My bond with him has never been broken. All shall be well. But there was something more than that, and almost lazily she recognized what it was that had suddenly so caught and pleased her. Morgan was coming home. Morgan was coming home for refuge and comfort and help. Hilda would pick up the pieces.
Hilda took the flowers and went on into the little pantry where the flower vases were kept. It was so dark and cool in here that she nearly shivered. She found a big vase and filled it at the sink, letting the water overflow and run over her hot wrists. She did not trouble to undo the bouquet but just pushed up the paper a little and plunged the ends of the stems into the water. Then carrying the dripping vase she went back through the drawing room and out into the dazzling garden.
‘Let me give you some more champagne, darling,’ said Simon, jumping up and scattering drops of water.
Hilda put the vase down on the white cast iron table beside the open bottle. ‘Phew. Yes, please. I think I’ll follow your example.’ She sat down on the edge of the pool. The water, very faintly cool, encased foot, ankle, calf.
‘You practically sizzle as you go in in this weather. Do you know my feet are dry already and the paving stones are burning them. Here you are, Hilda dear.’
‘Thank you, Simon. I wanted to ask your advice about the bathroom—’
‘Yes, I know. I took the liberty of having a decko this morning. Now there’s a very nice steam-proof paper I saw at Sanderson’s, black with huge turquoise roses in big squares …’
‘I wish we’d had you in the chair,’ Axel was saying. ‘Ogden-Smith can’t keep to the point himself let alone keep anyone else to it.’
‘I had to be at that thing on invisible earnings.’
‘I hear there’s a parliamentary question about that coming up.’
‘It’s up! In fact it’s on my desk, for my sins.’
‘I’ll bring you round a sample on Monday,’ said Simon, ‘and of the Marrakesh tiles, only they
are
rather expensive. And you
must
have a turquoise bathrobe to match.’
‘And towels I suppose.’
‘I thought perhaps emerald green towels.’
‘I can’t understand a word they’re saying, can you? Do you think they do it on purpose to put us in our place?’
‘Probably! Move up, Hilda, I must get my feet back into the water. Hilda, isn’t it wonderful that Morgan’s coming back? I keep remembering it and feeling so glad.’
‘Yes. I’m glad she’s coming
home.
I couldn’t bear the thought of her being unhappy so far away.’
‘We must stop her from being unhappy, mustn’t we.’
‘I hope you’ll make a point of seeing her, Simon. She’ll need old friends.’
‘By the way,’ said Axel’s voice, faintly metallic, ‘I was saying to Simon, Hilda, don’t you think Tallis ought to be told that Morgan’s coming back? If he doesn’t know already, that is.’
‘I thought it better not to tell him,’ said Hilda. She shifted round, drawing her dripping feet from the water and tucking them under the heat of her thighs. Axel and Rupert were still leaning forward, tilting the canvas and aluminium folding chairs beside the table and nursing replenished glasses of champagne. ‘I doubt if he knows. I’m sure Morgan hasn’t written to him. I thought Morgan should be left free to decide what to do, whether to see him or not.’
‘What about Tallis’s freedom?’ said Axel. ‘Doesn’t he have equal rights? Shouldn’t he have the chance to decide whether to see
her
or not? I mean, I see your point, Hilda, but I do think Tallis—’
‘Which of us knows Tallis best?’ said Hilda.
After a pause Axel said, ‘I suppose I do.’
‘Well, do you know how Tallis is likely to behave if he hears Morgan’s back?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’
‘There you are. It’s much better not to tell him. And it’s kinder too. Morgan may be going straight on to somewhere else—’
‘What Tallis may or may not do isn’t our affair,’ said Axel. ‘And it’s not for us to spare his feelings, it’s an impertinence. Put yourself in his place. Suppose he finds out later she’s been in London for ages, or else was in London for a short while, and we all conspired not to tell him—Don’t you agree with me, Rupert?’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Rupert. ‘I agreed with Hilda before, now I’m convinced by your arguments. It would be a deception which Tallis would be quite right to resent.’ He put his glass down, wiping the sweat from his hot plump face back into his faded pale hair.
Hilda knew that Rupert was often nervy and argumentative when Axel and Simon were there, possibly to relieve a tension in himself caused by two-way jealousy of his brother and his friend. But this was not now her concern. Of course Axel was right in a way, it had only to be put clearly for one to see it, but all the same she did not want Tallis to be told. She wanted every possible weight and pressure to be taken off her sister, she wanted her to be left, for some time at any rate, in peace. Suppose Tallis were to come running round, demanding to see his wife, demanding her immediate return? Hilda had known Tallis longer than any of them, she it was who had introduced him to the family after she had made his acquaintance during a general election campaign. But she could not, any more than Axel, predict his reactions. He would not be deliberately unkind but he could be extremely tactless. Hilda wanted Morgan here and wanted her unmolested and with time to assemble herself. She wanted Morgan alone. ‘I think we should just wait anyway until Morgan comes. After all she’s not due for at least ten days. And she may still decide to delay longer or not to come at all.’
‘Well, I vote for truth-telling. I hope your book deals with this sort of thing, Rupert. I’m most impatient to see it. I expect to be told how to live, my dear fellow. I shall take it as my guide to behaviour and follow it slavishly.’
Hilda knew that Axel was sceptical about the value of Rupert’s book. We’ll show him, she thought.
‘I’m afraid if you want a guide to behaviour you’ll be disappointed, Axel,’ said Rupert smiling. He too was aware of Axel’s views but appeared to be unresentful. ‘No philosopher ever did produce a guide to behaviour, even when he thought that that was what he was doing.’
‘So you admit to being a philosopher at last?’
BOOK: A Fairly Honourable Defeat
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