by Iris Murdoch
‘I think there may be some manifestation. I hope there may be one, not too unpleasant of course.’
‘According to Bellamy, Peter thinks of it as a mystery play. I certainly think of it as theatre.’
‘Well, I have all along taken the view that he is mentally disordered, either deranged by the blow I struck him, or else perhaps generally given to epilepsy or to some similar aberration. He is a very excitable man, an oriental type.’
‘Bellamy continues to think that there may be some sort of miracle, a reconciliation scene or an angelic intervention. If he, I mean Mir, wants to play it that way, for heaven’s sake will you – ’
‘Co-operate? Of course I will. But if he requires me to – ’
‘We’d better go now. We are supposed to be there first.’
Bellamy was sitting in the front seat of the Rolls. Peter had picked him up as arranged at The Castle, where Bellamy had been lurking outside at the mouth of the cul-de-sac. He had climbed in in silence. The silence continued as the car proceeded slowly through the traffic. Bellamy could hear Peter’s irregular breathing, deep sighs and indrawn breaths, almost sobs. He turned his head very slightly, glimpsing in the almost dark of the car his companion’s profile, his thick lips parted, his gleaming eye seeming to protrude from its socket. Bellamy thought, my God he looks bullish! Is he going to have a fit or something? I wish he would say something. Oh what a mad business, no good can come of it, only chaos, and not just chaos but evil. How did we gradually get entangled in such a terribly dangerous shambles!
At last, in quite an ordinary tone, Peter said, ‘It has been raining, I’m afraid it will be awfully muddy. I have brought my umbrella. I hope you have brought yours?’
‘Yes,’ said Bellamy. He thought, perhaps they will fight with their umbrellas. At that moment he remembered that he had forgotten to bring the torch. ‘Is there a torch in the car?’
‘No.’
Oh God, thought Bellamy, without the torch I can’t read the map!
They had arrived. It was soon clear that Peter knew the way. Perhaps, indeed probably, it was not the first time that he had returned to the place. He turned down a side street and they got out. Bellamy saw that they were parked just behind Clement’s car, its number plate illumined by the headlights, and was about to remark on this but decided otherwise. If the fates were arranging things, it was better to leave it entirely to them. He got out quickly. Peter got out slowly, leaning against the side of the car. Then he fumbled out his keys and locked the car. He was holding up his green umbrella as if in a ritual. Then Bellamy remembered he had left his own umbrella in the car. That too was fate. Peter took hold of Bellamy’s arm, leaning upon it, and leading him purposefully along the road. Bellamy was trying to remember the map, searching for it with his free hand, but it was in his other pocket where his body was pressed firmly against Peter’s. He thought, it doesn’t matter, he knows the way. They turned into another, ill-lit, street and leaving the pavement and walking on what seemed to be gravel, passed a pile of bricks and what looked like a cement-mixer, and were then walking upon a gravelled path, then in total darkness upon damp grass. Bellamy thought, thank God he knows the way – I hope he does know the way. Then a sudden light flashed ahead, for a second illuminating the low sweeping branches and trunk of an immense tree. They moved on, blundering through longer grass, in the direction of the light. A moment later Clement was gripping Bellamy’s arm, pulling him onwards through an even darker darkness. The great trees surrounded them, then, apprehensible by a change of air, they were in some sort of small clearing, where Bellamy, looking upward, imagined he could see the sky. He continued to clutch Peter, whose body felt burning hot against his arm. He now saw the other figure, Lucas, standing a few feet away. There was a terrible silence.
Clement had at first been amazed by Lucas’s willingness to set up the weird scene which was supposed to achieve something, reconciliation or remembrance. On reflection however he saw that it was ‘just like Lucas’ to accept a challenge and join in what might prove a dangerous game. There was also, as he reflected further, so many profound aspects of the relation between these two. Inevitably they were fascinated by each other. And what about him, Clement? It fell to him to arrange it all, and this involved, as he had only lately perceived, the return to a place where he himself had very nearly died. It was as if all his inward being, his hopes and fears, his loves and hates, his experience, his consciousness, had been so jumbled and shaken up and tossed around that everything had become hopelessly unconnected and out of order. During the time when Lucas was ‘lost’ he had worried so intensely about Lucas that he had not meditated at all about what had happened, and what might have happened. And when Lucas returned he had been too busy studying Lucas and exploring and adjusting his own relationship with him. Now, forced to arrange the encounter which had come to seem so inevitable, he had had to return alone, to stand by daylight beneath the great trees, and in a sudden violent vision of the past see, as upon a screen, the slow motion movements of the three actors. The merest flicker of change, amid the unnumbered millions of possible changes, could have prevented that particular conjunction. Clement had felt faint and sat, almost falling, upon the ground. The trees too had seen what had happened. They were old and had seen much. It was after that, when he had returned home and was working out the details, the ‘logistics’, of the ‘second event’, that he saw clearly the enormity of it all, and that when the time came, on that perilous night, he himself must be in charge. They wanted theatre and they would get theatre. It was his mystery play and he would direct it.
He had prepared his speech. Now, speaking in a soft clear singsong voice, he began. ‘Listen, my friends, we are gathered together in this place where an event of great significance to all of us, I include Bellamy, occurred at about this time on that evening some months ago. What exactly happened on that occasion is a question which has been much disputed, but the purpose of this meeting is not to continue this dispute. The three persons involved in that event, which I call “the first event”, have all suffered very much indeed in the sequel of what then, by the work of chance, occurred. We may in this sense, and from this point of view, count ourselves as companions in a disaster. I believe that no one here wishes to make of this meeting any useless exacerbation of our mutual differences and our common pain. The idea of a re-enactment or “second event” was I believe first suggested by Dr Mir to my friend Bellamy, who then passed it to me and I mentioned it to my brother. The matter then rose again during a discussion involving all four of us, which began with some suggested reconciliation but did not unfortunately end in an agreement. However, I feel sure that we have all reflected upon what was said at that time, and that this reflection has engendered second thoughts, tending towards peace rather than war. We have all been wounded, and reason as well as forbearance urges us to seek recovery. We need and want to return to our ordinary lives. One purpose of this meeting must be to employ the heightened emotion, which we must all be feeling, to carry us, like a wave, over the barriers which divide us toward at least détente and appeasement. I think the word “metamorphosis” was used. Let us believe that change is possible. This meeting must, at least at this stage, bear something of the semblance of a confrontation, and Bellamy and I have observed, not simply in jest, that we have been unwittingly cast as supporters or “seconds”, Bellamy to Dr Mir, I to my brother. It is customary on such an occasion for the seconds to suggest to the principals that this is a time to recognise the futility of their ill will and to declare mutually for peace. I now make this suggestion and propose a pause for its consideration. During this pause let us concentrate and consider whether we are not here confronted with a great possibility of choosing good instead of evil.’
Silence followed. Bellamy, hypnotised by Clement’s words and his magisterial tone, wondered if he were having a dream. Was Clement reading from a paper? No, after all he was an actor, yet really he must be speaking impromptu and from his heart. How spl
endidly he has taken charge, yes it is like the theatre, I would not have believed it possible! Listening to Clement, who was standing opposite to him, he had moved a little way from Peter, but could still feel the heat of his adjacent body. Bellamy’s eyes were now accustomed to the darkness and he was aware of Lucas, wearing a long black mackintosh, standing beside him. He turned again to Peter, Peter had left his overcoat in the car. How tall and straight he stood, as if at attention, and, as Bellamy could now see, was wearing a black suit, and a black tie. His shoulders were high and square, his head thrown back. Bellamy thought, he looks like a dictator. Bellamy threw his head back too, looking upward to the sky through the opening in the trees. The clouds had parted to reveal a single bright star.
Lucas spoke. He said, ‘I confess that I came here out of curiosity, but did not expect to be bored. To celebrate the occasion my brother has made a pompous nonsensical speech. Let us be content with that. We must all be oppressed by this place, and I suggest that we now go home.’
Clement, ignoring Lucas, went on. ‘I will now remind you of the other aim of this gathering. Dr Mir has suffered, as we all know, from a considerable loss of memory. He believes that a return to the scene of his mishap may, with an intensification of his mental state, break through the black cloud which obscures that which he desires to remember. I suggest that at this moment he should concentrate extremely hard upon the hidden thing or things which he wishes to recall, and that we should sincerely attempt to assist him by a similar silence and intense concentration.’ There was another silence. The silence continued.
Bellamy began to pray. His prayer seemed to be taking the form of a dream. He felt his lips falling apart, his hands hanging limp, his body relaxing, his eyes closing under heavy lids. He thought, there is no God, but what I am feeling now is what God is. I must concentrate, no I must simply stay and wait, because what it is is so powerful, so gentle, and so close. I must breathe and be filled with Peter’s anguish, desire what he desires and see what he sees. Oh let this vision be given, let him find it, that which he desires and loves, let it come to him and be with him forever. Let me just with the power which fills me now reach out a little more, joining my will to his, thinking only of this thing, oh let me see it, let my eyes be his eyes, to see what he has lost and must find, for it is nearer now than it will ever be, it is so near – I can see it, only there is a blackness over it, I can see the blackness, oh let it be withdrawn, it is there but covered over, let there be light. Bellamy was aware of lifting up his hands which had become weightless, like two birds lifting him from the ground. He gasped for breath, he felt that he was going to faint, he opened his eyes wide and looked up through the opening in the tree toward the sky. He thought, where is the star? It is still there but it has become so large and is so bright. It is moving, it is falling – stars fall through the sky and we see them falling – but this star is coming nearer and nearer – perhaps it is a meteorite – it will fall upon us – oh God, it is an aeroplane on fire. Bellamy tried to cry out. Suddenly there was a light shining close to him. He saw Peter Mir as if he were burning, only he was not being consumed, he was simply composed of light, and grown taller, a pillar of light, burning, shining. In this second there was a devastating crash, a deafening sound of tumbling smashing destruction. Bellamy’s mouth opened to scream into the sound. Then he saw that Peter, still rigid, still glowing, was falling, his arms at his sides, and would have struck the ground face downward had not Bellamy moved instantly and received him in his arms, collapsing back with Peter on top of him.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Is he hurt?’
‘I don’t know. Oh Clement – how terrible.’
‘He must just have fainted. Can’t you get out? Just push him up a bit, I’ll try and pull him. Damn, where’s the torch, I’ve dropped it somewhere, oh hell!’ Pitch blackness surrounded them. Bellamy struggled, trying to get some power into his arms and legs, then holding Peter’s head up with one hand to prevent it from touching the ground, while Clement was hauling Peter by the shoulders, attempting to turn him over.
‘Get out from under, will you, support him, do you want him to suffocate? Where’s the bloody torch?’
Bellamy heaved himself partly out, pushing at Peter’s inert body feeling Clement’s hand near his, grasping at clothing. ‘Oh, let him not be dead!’
‘Shut up, Bellamy, just help me, will you, try to lift him a little, hold onto his head, we must get him onto his back, yes, there that’s better.’
The light of the torch played upon the muddied clothes, then upon the face. Peter’s face was indeed frightening. It was white, looking like ivory. His mouth was open and his eyes were open, but there was no sign of animation.
Clement said, ‘He’s been struck by lightning.’
‘There was something in the sky like a star falling down – or was it an aeroplane – I saw an aeroplane on fire, and there was a crash – oh Clement, did you see him just before, how he looked – ?’ Bellamy staggering to his feet, began to moan and sob. He picked up his glasses from the ground.
‘Oh shut up, keep quiet, we don’t want anyone to come!’
Clement knelt down. He was aware of Lucas standing beside him. He thought, it’s happening all over again.
He put his hand under Peter’s neck, rolled his head a little, shook his shoulders, and began with his other hand to pull at the neck of his shirt. ‘Bellamy, get his tie off, get his tie off.’
Bellamy, kneeling on the other side, undid the tie and the shirt. Peter’s head and face were wet. The open eyes were dreadful. The rain was falling into the eyes.
Suddenly Peter blinked, he closed his eyes and his mouth, his features moved, his brow wrinkled a little, he turned his head slightly on one side, away from the light of the torch.
‘Thank God,’ said Clement. He pulled again at Peter’s shoulders, trying with Bellamy’s assistance to lift his head a little off the ground. ‘He seems to be breathing all right.’
Peter uttered a very soft moaning sound. He opened his eyes again, then screwing them up. Clement covered the torch with his hand. Peter, still lying flat, seemed to be animating his limbs in an attempt to sit up. Then he almost inaudibly murmured, ‘What happened?’
‘You fainted,’ said Clement. ‘It was all that concentrated emotion.’
‘Don’t hurry him,’ said Bellamy.
Lucas, who had been standing behind them, said, ‘I’m going to get a taxi. Goodnight.’ He disappeared into the darkness.
Peter attempted to sit up, failed, then managed to rise a little supported by Bellamy. He was panting and breathing deeply. He said ‘Lift me – just a little more – I don’t think I can get up.’
‘Well, you’ve got to get up!’ said Clement. ‘We’ll take you home.’ He said to Bellamy, ‘We must get him out of here!’ He was thinking, suppose someone finds us here, suppose the police, find us here!
‘I think I’ll – kneel first if I can – if I can turn round – then perhaps you’ll both – pull me up – sorry, my legs don’t seem – to be there any more. But wait, please – just give me a little time.’
After a minute or so Peter, kneeling, tried several times to rise, supported by the other two. The weight was too much. Bellamy said to Clement, ‘We’ll have to get help.’ Clement said, ‘No.’ At last they hauled him to his feet.
‘Keep him moving.’
‘Which way is it, how do we get out?’
‘We must get to the path. Come on, Peter, you can walk, just help us, will you?’
‘Where is my umbrella?’
‘Oh hell. Here it is, I’ll carry it. Come on. Bellamy, could you take the torch, shine it down, down you idiot, cover it with your hand.’
They reached the path, then crept on a little way, and stopped breathless.
Peter said, ‘I can’t drive.’
‘No, of course you can’t. I’ll drive you home in your car.’
‘I don’t think I can remember
– where I put it.’
‘It’s just behind Clement’s car,’ said Bellamy.
‘And turn right here, where the trees are, into the drive, then turning left.’
Peter, sitting passenger in the Rolls, had made a considerable recovery. He had directed Clement with prompt skill. The journey had not been a very long one. Bellamy, sitting in the back, had tried to make out where they were going, but soon became confused.
The car, moving slowly along the drive, stopped in front of a large house, which was all in darkness. Bellamy hastened to help Peter out, they both walked him up the steps to the door, where he fumbled for keys, found them and opened the door. This took a little time since the door appeared to have several different locks. Then the door opened and they entered, Bellamy supporting Peter, Peter switched on a number of lights, dropped his umbrella, and sat down on a chair. They looked at each other. Clement said, ‘I’d better lock the Rolls.’
‘No, no, it must take you and Bellamy home. No need to lock it now, I won’t keep you long. I must just sit still for a minute or two.’
‘Is all this house yours?’ said Bellamy.
Peter said, ‘Yes.’
‘Sorry. I thought it might be flats.’
‘Shall we help you up the stairs?’ said Clement. ‘Do you think you need a doctor? We could ring for one.’
‘No doctor, thank you.’
‘How are you feeling?’ said Bellamy. ‘You’ve had an awful time, you know.’
‘I’m feeling fine.’
‘Someone should stay the night with you,’ said Bellamy. ‘I could stay, if you like.’
‘No. I am – all right.’
Clement gave Bellamy a quick look. He said, ‘Thanks about the car but we can get a taxi.’
‘No, no, it’s late, you mightn’t find one, I’d like you to take it.’
Bellamy thought, is he offering it to Clement as a present?