The man lowered his arm, and we went in.
Inside the pub there was a hall, which was empty, and a bar with a grille across the counter to the right. This room was half in darkness, the windows being boarded up. Lilia turned on some lights.
I said ‘Does Bert think you can alter things by making up stories?’
She said ‘Do you think you can make things better by telling the truth?’
She walked up and down. I sat on a stool at the barricaded bar.
The stage on which Lilia and I now found ourselves (I call it a stage: you wouldn’t want me to call it anything else, would you?) consisted of the archway into the hall on the right (right if you were looking out from the stage; left if you are in the audience beyond the boarded-up window), the bar at the back with the grille over it (you recognise the scene?), a staircase up on the left down which some messenger might come; towards the front a false fire with glowing coals from which no heat came but to which you could hold out your hands as if they might throw shadows. I thought – Well, after all, why did not people get out of that cave? They were, yes, I understand, frightened of burning by being their own suns.
Lilia walked up and down. She lit a cigarette, and puffed, and the smoke came after her. I thought – Those old gestures often work on a stage.
Lilia said ‘God I do hate you.’
I said ‘I’ve hated you too.’
Lilia said ‘Why?’
I thought I might say – and I said – ‘Because I’m jealous?’
Lilia said ‘How long have you known Jason?’
‘I first met him when he came to write about the Garden.’
‘He didn’t go to write about the Garden!’
‘All right, when he’d been working on that film.’
She said ‘Seven years!’
‘I haven’t what’s called known him for seven years.’
‘How long have you what’s called known him for?’
I thought – I suppose it’s only actors who shout and yell: because they, in order to, feel nothing.
She said ‘You knew he had a wife and child.’
I said ‘Yes, I knew he had a wife and child.’
She said ‘If you didn’t think of me, couldn’t you think of the child.’
I thought – Oh, cut that last line!
She said ‘I’m sorry.’
I said ‘It’s I who am sorry.’
She said ‘What are you sorry for?’
I thought – I’m sorry for being human. I’m sorry for the sake of getting the emotions out –
Lilia went to the chimneypiece and put her hands against it and rested her head on her hands. Then she said, as if to herself ‘Get it out: get it out –’
I thought – I might be burning: that cloak of flesh turning to fire.
I said ‘I suppose I didn’t think you’d mind.’
She said ‘Why didn’t you think I’d mind?’ Then – ‘What has he been telling you!’
I said ‘Nothing.’
She said ‘He wrote that story about me!’
I said ‘I didn’t think it was about you.’
She said ‘He wrote about you –’
I said ‘That wasn’t about me.’
She said ‘Well I thought it was.’ Then – ‘It wasn’t about me.’
She lifted her head and looked around the room. She seemed to listen. Then she almost laughed, and said ‘Who was it about?’
I thought I might say – Jason, Medea.
She walked about the room again. She puffed at her cigarette, and the smoke came after her.
She said ‘Does he pay for you? –’
I said ‘What?’ She said ‘No, cut that.’
Then – ‘When you go away together.’
She went to the boarded-up window and leaned with her head against it.
I thought – This is a rehearsal? The real play will be, is, going on outside?
I said ‘I’m trying to marry Bert.’
She said ‘God, that is like one of his stories!’
I said ‘But I don’t think Bert will have me.’
She said ‘Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, you can hardly blame him, can you?’
I said ‘No, I don’t.’
She turned and looked at me directly for the first time since we had been in the room. She said ‘I mean, I think that’s a pity. If Bert doesn’t have you.’
I thought – Lilia: Lilith! we are both old elephants; who go into caves every now and then to rub off salt from people’s rocks!
She said ‘Are you pregnant?’
I said ‘That is in fact a line from one of his stories!’
She said again ‘I’m sorry.’ Then – ‘Why do I keep on saying I’m sorry!’
I thought I might say – Because, do you think, words are counter-productive?
So – Surely we can choose not to be characters in his stories!
She walked up and down again. She said ‘I hate you, I hate you. What is it that the woman does to the girl in the play?’
I said ‘What play?’
She said ‘Jason. Medea.’
I said ‘Jason leaves Medea for – I can’t remember the girl’s name. Medea makes a cloak of fire for the girl, which burns her up on her wedding day.’
Lilia said ‘That’s what I’d like to do to you!’
I thought I might say – That’s good! That’s good!
I said ‘Then Medea murders her children.’
She said ‘What good did that do?’
She stood still. She seemed to be listening again.
I said ‘Nothing.’ Then – ‘But I’m not going to have a wedding day.’
I thought I might cry.
Someone seemed to have come into the hallway. It was as if they, too, were listening; or waiting for some cue. I wanted to say – Not yet! We are doing so well!
Lilia was looking round at the archway to the hall.
I thought – Or you mean, now, this might be the beginning of the play?
I said ‘I could go and look – for your child.’
She said ‘Why should you do that?’
I said ‘Where else might he have gone on his bicycle?’ Then – ‘You will be here for him when he comes back.’
She turned and look at me. She went on looking at me. She had these open, trustful-distrustful eyes. I wanted to say – This is the message: can we not learn the code?
She said ‘We stay here sometimes, did you know?’
I said ‘Yes.’
She said ‘I mean, not by the big house: in a cottage on the other side.’
I thought I might say – Yes, I know.
She said ‘You’ve been there?’
I thought – She does not, really, care whether or not I have been there?
I said ‘What are the stories that Bert told him?’
She said ‘Well, there’s this battle-area, where no one is allowed to go. Of course, Bert used to go there. When we were children. In fact it was quite safe. He used to say it was like the Garden of Eden: where people had been told they mustn’t go.’
I said ‘Yes, I had a glimpse of it this morning.’
She said ‘Bert told him stories of a secret place in the middle; where there was a tree, which is the Tree of Life: where all things are at one with their shadows.’
I thought – Bert! Lilia! There is a bright light like a child! like some sort of bomb coming down!
Lilia said ‘So he used to go there, when we were here at Christmas, although I told him not to. I think he thought Eleanor would take him there now on her horse.’
I said ‘I’ll try to find Eleanor. She’s on a horse?’
Lilia stared at me.
All the time there was the impression of both knowing, and yet not knowing, what was happening: there was the person listening in the hallway: there were the events elsewhere.
A man in a tweed jacket came in from the hallway. He had a youngish middle-aged cut-out face. I thought – You can tell
these people, can you, because they all seem to be auditioning for the part of Holofernes.
He said ‘Do I know you two?’
Lilia said ‘No.’
He said ‘What’s this about the battle-area? Snakes and dragons? Babes in the wood?’
Lilia said ‘For God’s sake!’ Then – ‘They’re fairy stories.’
The man said ‘You believe in fairies?’
He came and sat between us at the bar. Lilia had sat at the bar some distance from me.
I thought – Lilia does or does not know about Bert’s story about the bomb?
Lilia said ‘If I were you, I’d believe in fairies.’
The man said ‘Well, I don’t. And may I ask what you two girls are doing in here?’
I said ‘Looking for a drink.’
Lilia said ‘Meeting someone.’
The man said ‘Who?’
I thought – This is a headquarters? They’ve closed the pub? Then – They all seem the same, these people whom we call ‘they’?
I said ‘We’re rehearsing a play.’
The man said ‘Oh you’re rehearsing a play, are you?’ He put a hand up and rattled the grille which covered the bar.
I thought – Or you mean, Lilia has all the time been anxious about the bomb in the battle-area? This man thinks she has been talking about a bomb in the battle-area –
The man said – ‘You mean it’s a hoax?’
Lilia said ‘No it’s not a hoax.’
The man said ‘You know what I’m talking about?’
Lilia said ‘No, do you?’
I thought – Which one of us, do you think, might kill Holofernes?
The man said to me ‘You were at that tomb this morning.’
I said ‘Yes.’
Lilia said ‘You were with Bert?’
The man said ‘Come on!’
Lilia said ‘What’s Bert doing?’
I said ‘He went up in a helicopter.’
The man said ‘That was his helicopter?’
I thought – This is ridiculous.
I said ‘He works for a film company.’
The man said ‘I know he works for a film company.’
I tried to remember the sort of style that Bert had been practising. I thought I might say – Look, why should you believe anything we say?
Lilia said to the man ‘We don’t want to talk to you. Why don’t you go away.’
The man said ‘You two girls could be in a lot of trouble.’
I thought – Lilia, you said ‘we’!
A woman appeared behind the counter of the bar and began taking down the grille. She was a heavy-faced woman with upturned spectacles and grey hair.
I thought – She is a major-general in drag: she may start to kick up her heels and dance and sing?
The man said ‘Now tell me what you know.’
Lilia said ‘I’ll have a vodka and tomato juice, please.’
I said ‘Whisky and water, please.’
The man said ‘Two vodkas, a whisky and a tomato juice.’
The woman poured out drinks as if she had never poured out drinks before. I thought – You mean she is such an obvious major-general in drag, her disguise is impenetrable, she is really a major-general in drag?
The man said ‘You were told this place was out of bounds.’
Lilia said ‘I’m meeting my child.’
The man said ‘You’re meeting your child.’
Lilia said ‘Yes.’
The man said to me ‘What is the name of your film company?’
Lilia looked at me. I thought – I suppose I should find out whether or not Lilia knows about the bomb.
I said to the man ‘What do you know about this bomb?’
Lilia said ‘What bomb?’
The man said ‘What bomb?’
I said ‘We told you all we know this morning.’
Lilia said ‘I must go and look for my child.’
The man said ‘You’re staying here.’
I thought – That was a mistake?
Then – But I could not not have said, could I, there might be a bomb in the battle-area –
I had the impression that Lilia might know something that I did not know: or perhaps we were both trying to tell the other – to find out – whatever it was that was hidden in the stone.
The man turned to Lilia. He had his back to me. He said ‘Now tell me what you know.’
Lilia, over the man’s shoulder, said to me ‘I don’t think he did want to come back and meet me here!’
I said ‘Why not?’
Lilia said ‘I don’t know.’
She looked up at the staircase behind her on the left as if she were expecting someone to come down. I thought – A messenger? Jason? (Well, where in God’s name were you?)
After a time the man looked up the staircase.
I thought I might smile and say – You two, have a nice time!
Lilia said again ‘I must go.’
The man said again ‘You’re staying here.’
I said ‘I’m going. I’ll find the child.’
I thought – Holofernes, he prefers her to me?
The woman behind the bar said ‘They say they’ve got hold of this radioactive material, did you know?’
There are times, do you not think, when one gives up even trying? I thought – These two people who have come in are phantoms: why should we try to understand the shadows on the walls of the cave?
The man said ‘Have you been upstairs?’
The woman behind the bar said ‘No.’
The man took hold of Lilia’s arm.
I thought I might say – Don’t touch her! She’s been outside!
The woman behind the bar said ‘It may be a diversion.’
The man said ‘Oh it’s a diversion all right!’
I went towards the exit to the pub. No one tried to stop me. I thought – You mean, simply, that I’m the one to go?
There is that theory, is there not, that when something of importance is known to one member of the tribe, this knowledge is transmitted to other members secretly?
I heard the woman behind the bar saying ‘That one can go?’
The man like Holofernes said ‘Yes, that one can go.’
I thought – Well, bring his head along in a basket.
Lilia, of course, did look like an angel all in white: with her drawn sword above a battlefield.
I thought – It is instructions that are transmitted to each member of the tribe?
As I went out of the door I did have the impression, yes, that there might be someone looking down from a corner of the ceiling.
– Ladies and gentlemen, a fuse has blown: will you, or will you not, kindly leave the theatre?
There was almost no one left on the village green. There were cans and plastic bags and a few burst balloons. Policemen were still chatting in front of the gates of the airbase: on the horizon the noses of aeroplanes poked out above their lairs. I thought – This is the sort of landscape which depends on the chance of a bomb going off: people have to come to dead-ends in their ways through the maze.
Moving on my own, across this littered world, I had an impression of bits and pieces flying out from their box: splinters of light like flocks of birds migrating.
I was going towards the wood by the fence at the far side of the entrance gates. I had understood that here I would find whatever was left of the camp of the women. Here I also might find Eleanor and the child. I could not remember quite why I had felt so strongly that I had to do this. A splinter of light becomes lodged in your mind like a wingbeat, flying.
I have not explained, have I (to you who bumps into this), about Eleanor. Eleanor is the Professor’s wife, the old lady with black hair and bright-blue eyes that Jason talked about in his letter about the birth of the child. She was, yes, the witch-doctor of our tribe.
There has been this gap, hasn’t there, of seven years. People came and went. Eleanor was not with the Professor much. She was t
here when you looked for her. She was like one of those eternal figures seated on the banks of the Nile.
It was not that nothing had happened to me during those seven years (there were times when what was happening to us, Jason, was like the knives of kingfishers’ wings above dark pools of light). It was just that what was happening now, around and about this battle-area, was connected, I suppose, to what had happened to me that first time I was in London and also during my time in the Garden; there are these jumps, are there not, every seven years (at the end of each segment of the staircase?). You land, and you are ready to take off again; to take the lid off a further box, is it? (Where there are bits and pieces like light?)
I am so grateful still (prayers remain the same) for all of this: for the sheep like stars and the kingfishers’ wings and the fishes that go back to the rivers where they were born. I am grateful to the chaos and darkness: to the sun and moon like gravity. I am grateful to you: to Bert; to the Professor: to everyone I have ever loved: to you and you who are with me now (who are you!). There are the other figures, statues, stories, around some corner. Walls fall down: birds whizz between openings in the maze.
There is myself walking through that wood; there is myself at the window writing this. The Professor is a little better today, thank you. Bert is coming to visit us. Eleanor was here the other day.
And where are you, Jason! Of course, it was right for you to stay away. Things will sort themselves out. You will be, yes, with your child and Lilia.
But would you have written it like that, if you had not thought that you would one day come across me again!
The undergrowth on either side of the path through the wood had become trampled as if armies had passed there: among the trees there were mounds, or scrap-heaps, of plywood, plastic and sacking – the shelters of what had been the encampment of the women. I thought – Why are men so frightened of witches? is it because they fear the darkness in themselves – that of the hags in the temple, as well as that of the child?
But it is true that in those old dramas, when men came across women at their secret rituals in the forest, it was the men who were torn to pieces.
You used to say – What will happen when women come smiling out of the forest: then men will see that they have been their own terror?
I was going further into the forest. I thought – I am like Red Riding Hood going to visit her grandmother: of course Red Riding Hood knew her grandmother was a wolf! why else would she have gone to visit her?
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