The Black Prince

by Iris Murdoch

  ‘You shouted and banged?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I knew I couldn’t get out of the window, it’s too high. I sat on my bed and I cried a lot of course. You know, it seems silly in the middle of all this real sort of — carnage – but I was so sad about the little things of mine my father broke. He broke two sort of cups and all my china animals—’

  ‘Julian, I can’t bear this – ’

  ‘And it was so frightening – and sort of humiliating – He didn’t find this, though, it was under my pillow.’ Julian took out of the pocket of her dress the gilt snuff box, A Friend’s Gift.

  ‘I wish it wasn’t open war,’ I said. ‘Julian, you know, what your parents were saying to you wasn’t crazy stuff. In a way they’re quite right. It’s absurd and improper to have anything to do with me. You’re so young and I’m so very much older and you’ve got your whole life – How can you know your mind, it’s all happened so quickly, you ought to be locked up, it’ll end in tears—’

  ‘Bradley, we passed this stage long ago. When I was sitting on my bed and looking at the broken china on the floor and feeling my life so broken, I felt so strong too and calm in the middle of it all and quite certain about you and quite certain about myself. Look at me. Certainty. Calm.’ She did look calm too, sitting there beside me with her weary lucid face and her blue dress with white willow leaves on it and her brown shiny young knees and our hands piled together on her lap and the gilt snuff box in the loop of her skirt.

  ‘You must have more time to think, we can’t – ’

  ‘Anyway, about eleven, and that was another last straw, I had to shout and beg them to let me out to go to the lavatory. Then my father came in again and started off on a new tack, being very kind and understanding. It was then he said that he’d seen you again and that you’d said you’d give me up, which of course I knew wasn’t true. And then he said he’d take me to Athens – ’

  ‘He told me Venice. I’ve been in Venice all night,’

  ‘He was afraid you’d follow. I was as cold as ice by this time and I’d already made a plan to pretend to agree with anything he said and then to escape as soon as I could. So I acted a climb down and how a treat like going to Athens made all the difference and – thank God you weren’t listening – and – ’

  ‘I know. I did the same. I actually did tell him I’d sheer off. I felt like Saint Peter.’

  ‘Bradley, I was so tired by then, God yesterday was a long day, and I don’t know if I convinced him, but he said he was very sorry he’d been so bad, and I think he was sorry too, only I couldn’t bear his becoming emotional and soppy and wanting to kiss me and so on, and I said I must sleep so he went away at last and my God he locked the door again!’

  ‘Did you sleep?’

  ‘The funny thing is I did. I imagined I’d stay awake all night, I’d seen myself staying awake and thinking, I was quite looking forward to it, but sleep simply took me, unconsciousness rushed over me, I couldn’t even undress, it was as if my mind ran straight into oblivion, it had to. And then this morning they started pretending I was sick, and escorting me to the bathroom, and bringing up trays and so on, it was disgusting and somehow frightening. And my father told me to rest and that we’d be leaving London later on today, and then he left the house. I think he went to the telephone box on the corner to make a call he didn’t want my mother to hear, he often does at that time in the morning, and anyway he’d dragged the wire of our telephone out of the wall yesterday when he was in a rage. Well, I’d got dressed by then and I looked for my handbag, only they’d taken it, and when I heard him go I tried my door only of course it was locked and I called to my mother and she wouldn’t open it, and then I kicked my breakfast tray which was just there on the floor. Have you ever kicked a boiled egg off its cup? When I saw that egg flying through the air I felt somehow that’s exactly how things are at the moment, only it wasn’t funny at all. And then I told my mother that if she didn’t open the door at once I would jump out of the window, and I meant it, and at last she did open the door, and I walked down the stairs with her sort of running backwards in front of me, it was very absurd and odd really, and I went to the front door only it was locked with the mortice lock. And all this time my mother was talking at me and begging and asking me to forgive her, it was pathetic, I’d never heard her talk like that before, as if she was really old. And I said nothing and I marched out into the garden and she followed me and I tried the side gate and that was locked too so I ran down the garden and got up on top of the fence – you know those fences are quite high, I don’t know how I did it – and dropped down into the next garden. And I could hear her scrabbling and calling – of course she couldn’t get over, she’s much too fat – and she stood on a box and we stared at each other and her face was so odd – she looked so sort of surprised, like someone might look surprised if their leg was shot off, I felt for a moment so sorry for her. Then I ran off across the next garden and over another fence, that wasn’t so high, and among some garages and I ran and ran and then I couldn’t find a phone box that worked and then I found one and I called you and here I am.’

  ‘Julian, I feel so terrible, so responsible. I’m glad you felt sorry for your mother. You mustn’t hate them, you must pity them. In a way they’re right and we’re wrong – ’

  ‘Ever since they locked that door I began to feel like a monster. But I was a happy monster. Sometimes one has got to become monstrous in order to survive. I’m old enough to know that anyway.’

  ‘You escaped and you came to me—’

  ‘I grazed my leg on the fence. It’s all hot. Feel.’ She put my hand under her skirt on to her thigh. The skin was reddish and broken, blazing hot.

  I touched her, and through my scorched palm felt and desired the whole of this young sweet guileless being so suddenly and so miraculously given to me. I withdrew my hand and moved slightly away from her. It was almost too much.

  ‘Julian, my heroine, my queen – oh where can we go – we can’t go back to my flat.’

  ‘I know. They’ll be there. Bradley, I must be properly alone with you somewhere.’

  ‘Yes. Even if it’s only to think.’

  ‘What do you mean, even if it’s only to think?’

  ‘I feel so guilty about all this – what you called carnage. We haven’t decided anything, we mustn’t, we don’t know—’

  ‘Bradley, how brave are you really! Are you going to lead me back to my parents? Are you going to stray me like a cat? You are my home now. Bradley, do you love me?’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.’

  ‘Then you must be bold and free and show qualities of leadership. Think, Bradley, there must be some sort of secret place we can go, even if it’s only a hotel.’

  ‘Oh Julian, we can’t go to a hotel. There isn’t anywhere secret we can go to – Oh my God, yes there is! There is, there is, there is!’

  The door of the flat was open. Had I left it open? Was Arnold inside waiting for me?

  I went in quietly and stood in the hall listening. Then I heard a nearby rustling sound which seemed to come from my bedroom. Then a curious noise such as some bird might make, a sort of descending ‘woo – oo’. I stood stiffly, prickling with alarm. Then there was the unmistakable sound of someone yawning. I went forward and opened the bedroom door.

  Priscilla was sitting on my bed. She was dressed in the familiar navy blue coat and skirt, now looking rather baggy. She had taken her shoes off and was in the process of rubbing her toes through her stockings. She said, ‘Oh there you are,’ and returned to rubbing and scratching her toes, looking at them closely, her head drooped. She yawned again.

  ‘Priscilla! What are you doing here!’

  ‘I decided to come back to you. They tried to stop me but I came. They turned me over to the doctors. They wanted me to stay in the hospital but I wouldn’t. There were mad people there, I’m not mad. I had some of the shock treatment. It makes you feel terrible. You scream and throw yourself across t
he room. They ought to hold you. I bruised my arm. Look.’ She was speaking very slowly. She began laboriously to pull off the navy blue jacket.

  ‘Priscilla, you can’t stay here. I’ve got somebody waiting for me. We’re just going to leave London.’ Julian was in Oxford Street buying clothes with my money.

  ‘Look.’ Priscilla was rolling up the sleeve of her blouse. There was a large mottled bruise on her upper arm. ‘Or do you think they were holding me? Perhaps they were holding me. They have a sort of straitjacket they use but they didn’t put it on me. I think. I can’t remember. It rattles one’s head so. It can’t be good. And now they’ve done something to my brain that won’t come right again ever. I didn’t understand before what it was. I wanted to ask you about it but you didn’t come. And Arnold and Christian were always talking and laughing, I couldn’t be quiet in myself for their racket and their cackling. I felt such a stranger there, like a poor lodger. One must be with one’s own people. And I want you to help me with the divorce. I felt so ashamed with them because everything in their life was going so well and they were so sort of successful. I couldn’t talk about what I wanted with them and they were always in a hurry – and then they got me to start out on these electric shocks. One shouldn’t do things in a hurry, one always regrets it. Oh Bradley, I wish I hadn’t had those shocks, I can feel my brain’s half destroyed with them. It stands to reason, people aren’t supposed to have electric shocks are they?’

  ‘Where’s Arnold?’ I said.

  ‘He’s just gone away with Francis.’

  ‘He was here?’

  ‘Yes. He came after me. I just walked out after breakfast. Not that I had any breakfast, I can’t eat these days at all, I can’t bear the smell of food. Bradley, I want you to go with me to the lawyer, and I want you to go with me to the hairdresser, I must get my hair rinsed. I think I can just do that, it won’t be too much for me. Then I think I’ll rest. What did Roger say about my mink stole? I kept worrying about that. Why didn’t you visit me? I kept asking for you. I want you to go with me to the lawyer this morning.’

  ‘Priscilla, I can’t go anywhere with you this morning. I’ve got to get out of London quickly. Oh why did you come here!’

  ‘What did Roger say about my mink stole?’

  ‘He sold it. He’ll give you the money.’

  ‘Oh no! It was such a lovely one, such a special one – ’

  ‘Please don’t cry – ’

  ‘I’m not crying. I came all the way from Notting Hill by myself, and I shouldn’t, I’m ill. I think I’ll sit in the sitting – room for a while. Could you make me some tea?’ She got up heavily and pushed past me. I smelt a rank animal smell off her mingled with some sort of hospital odour. Formaldehyde perhaps. Her face looked ponderous and sleepy and her lower lip drooped with an effect resembling a sneer. She sat down slowly and carefully in the small armchair and put her feet on a footstool.

  ‘Priscilla, you can’t stay here! I’ve got to leave London!’ She yawned hugely, her nose snubbing up, her eyes squeezed, one hand questing through her blouse to scratch her armpit. She rubbed her eyes and then began to undo the middle buttons of her blouse. ‘I keep yawning and yawning and I keep scratching and scratching and my legs ache and I can’t keep still. I expect it’s the electricity. Bradley, you won’t leave me will you, you’re all I’ve got now, you can’t go away. What were you saying? Did Roger really sell my mink stole?’

  ‘I’ll make you some tea,’ I said to get out of the room. I went to the kitchen and actually put the kettle on. I was horribly upset at the sight of Priscilla, but of course there was no question of changing my plans. I just could not think what to do immediately. I had a rendezvous with Julian in half an hour’s time. If I failed to turn up she would come straight here. Meanwhile Arnold, unaccountably absent, might turn up at any moment.

  Someone came in through the front door. I issued quickly from the kitchen, ready to make a dash for freedom. I charged into Francis with such force that I butted him back out of the doorway. We held on to each other.

  ‘Where’s Arnold?’

  ‘I strayed him,’ said Francis, ‘but you haven’t much time.’

  I pulled Francis outside into the court. I wanted to be able to see Arnold coming. Francis was such a relief, I held firmly on to both his sleeves in case he should run away, which however he seemed unlikely to do. He smirked at me, looking pleased with himself.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I said I thought I’d seen you and Julian going into a pub in Shaftesbury Avenue, I said I knew it was a haunt of yours, and he rushed off, but he’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Has he told you—?’

  ‘He told Christian who told me. Chris is enjoying it all like mad.’

  ‘Francis, listen. I’m going away with Julian today. I want you to stay with Priscilla here, or at Notting Hill, wherever she wants to be. Here’s a cheque, a big one, and I’ll give you more.’

  ‘I say, thanks! Where are you going?’

  ‘Never mind. I’ll telephone you at intervals to see how Priscilla is. Thanks for your help. Now I must pack one or two things and get out.’

  ‘Brad, look. I brought this back. I’m afraid it’s properly broken now. I broke off the foot trying to straighten it out.’ He thrust something into my hand. It was the little bronze of the buffalo lady.

  We went back into the house and I dropped the latch on the street door and shut the door of the flat. There was a sort of screeching noise inside the flat. It was the whistling electric kettle announcing that the water was boiling. ‘Make tea, would you, Francis.’

  I ran into my bedroom and hurled clothes into a suitcase. Then I returned to the sitting – room.

  Priscilla was sitting bolt upright now, looking frightened. ‘What was that noise?’

  ‘The kettle.’

  ‘Who is it there?’

  ‘Just Francis. He’ll stay with you. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘When will you be back? You aren’t going properly away are you, for days?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll ring up.’

  ‘Oh Bradley, please, please don’t leave me. It’s so frightening, everything frightens me now, I get so frightened at night. You are my brother, I know you’ll look after me, you can’t leave me with strangers. And I don’t know what to do for the best and you’re the only person I can talk to. I think I won’t go and see the lawyer yet. I don’t know what to do about Roger. Oh I wish I’d never left him, I want Roger, I want Roger – Roger would pity me if he saw me now.’

  ‘Here’s an old friend anyway!’ I said, and I dropped the little bronze on to her lap. She closed her legs instinctively and it fell to the floor.

  ‘It’s broken now,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. Francis broke it trying to mend it.’

  ‘I don’t want it now any more.’

  I picked it up. One of the buffalo’s front legs was broken off jaggedly near the body. I laid the bronze on its side in the lacquer cabinet.

  ‘It’s quite broken now. Oh how sad, how sad—’

  ‘Priscilla, stop it!’

  ‘Oh dear, I do want Roger, Roger was mine, we belonged together, he was mine and I was his.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Priscilla. Roger’s a dead loss.’

  ‘I want you to go to Roger and tell him I’m sorry – ’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘I want Roger, dear Roger, I want him – ’

  I tried to kiss her, at least I approached my face to the dark soiled line of the grey hair, but she jerked her head as I stooped and rapped me hard on the jaw. ‘Good – bye, Priscilla, I’ll ring up.’

  ‘Oh don’t go away and leave me, please, please, please – ’

  I was at the door. She stared up at me now with huge slow tears coming out of her eyes, her gaping mouth all red and wet. I turned from her. Francis was just emerging from the kitchen with the tea tray. I saluted him and ran out of the house and along the court. At the end of the court I paused and p
eered cautiously out round the corner.

  Arnold and Christian were just getting out of a taxi about ten yards away. Arnold was paying the taxi man. Christian saw me. She at once moved, turning her back to me and placing herself between me and Arnold.

  I dodged back. There is a tiny slit of an alleyway just before the court debouches and I wedged myself into this, and saw almost instantly Arnold striding past, his face set hard with anxiety and purpose. Christian followed him more slowly, her eyes questing about. She saw me again and she made a gesture of a sort of oriental voluptuousness, a kind of amused sensuous homage, lifting her hands palm upwards and then bringing them sinuously down to her sides like a ballet dancer. She did not pause. I waited some moments and then emerged.

  Arnold had gone into the flat. Christian was still standing outside looking back. I set my suitcase down, put both my fists to my brow and then extended my arms towards her. She waved, a sort of frail fluttering wave, like someone departing on a boat. Then she followed Arnold through the door. I ran into Charlotte Street. I caught Arnold and Christian’s taxi and it took me to Julian.

  Part Three

  She had so much enjoyed our shopping. She conducted it. Boldly she chose food, cleaning stuff, washing stuff, kitchen things. She even bought a pretty blue dustpan and brush with flowers painted on. And an apron. And a sun hat. We loaded up the hired car. Some prophetic wit had made me keep my licence up to date. But, after carless years, I was driving cautiously.

  It was five o’clock of the same day and we were far from London. We were in a village, the car was parked outside the village shop. Grass grew between the paving stones and the sloping sun was giving to each blade of grass its own individual brown little shadow. There was still quite a long way to go.

  Seeing Julian playing housekeeper so busily and naturally and ordering me about as if we had, been married for years made me sick with joy. I dissembled the intensity of my delight so as not to make her self – conscious. I bought some sherry and some wine because that is what couples do, but I felt I should be perpetually drunk on sheer pleasure. At moments I almost wanted to be alone so as to meditate more single – mindedly upon what had happened. When we had driven on a bit and I had stopped to relieve myself in a wood, and as I stood looking down at a crisscrossy linoleum of pine needles, and a little copse of frondy moss in a tree root and a few stars of scarlet pimpernel, I felt like a great poet. These tiny things stood before me, the concrete embodiment of something resonant and huge, of histories and ecstasies and tears.