The Nice and the Good

by Айрис Мердок

  Ducane stared at McGrath. McGrath's pinkish-white face had a damp babyish look, his pale blue eyes were amiable and round, his sugar-pink mouth had snaked out into an ingratiating smile. Ducane saw him with loathing. He said, 'I'm afraid I do not require services.'

  'I wasn't exactly suggesting anything like that, Sir though of course I would be glad to oblige. But you see, Sir, I do need the money and I think it should be made up to me a bit for having lost my job. My job, Sir, and my pension.'

  'I am certainly not going to give you money,' said Ducane, 'and I am surprised that you should ask it. You must get yourself another job. I am afraid your welfare is not my concern.

  Now, McGrath, I'm sure you have more to tell me about Mr Radeechy. When you were at his house '

  'No, no. Sir, it's not that. I've said all I can about Mr Radeechy. I want your help, Sir, a little bit of money, just a pound or two a week – '

  'You're wasting your time, McGrath,' said Ducane, rising to his feet. 'And now if '

  'Maybe I'd better not beat round the bush, Sir,' said McGrath, 'though I'm the last to want to make any unpleasantness for a nice friendly gentleman like you. Maybe you'd like to take a look at these.'

  McGrath was holding out two large shiny sheets which looked like photographs. Automatically Ducane reached out and took them. They were photographs. And in a moment he saw with a shudder of surprise and alarm that they were photographs of letters written in familiar handwriting.

  'What on earth '

  'You see, Sir, I took the liberty of removing these two letters from your desk at the office.'

  Ducane looked at the two letters and a fire of fury and shame rose into his face. He took a deep breath and then said as coolly as he could, 'You really have gone too far now, McGrath.

  This is going to be a matter for the police. What were you proposing to do with these letters?'

  McGrath also rose to his feet. His pink lips flickered and he seemed a little excited but quite bold. 'Well, Sir, I'd hoped to do nothing with the letters. I mean if you could see your way to just continuing that little allowance Mr Radeechy used to make me. Mr Radeechy and me were quite friends about it, there were no hard feelings. And what's two or three pounds a week to a rich gentleman like you?»

  'I see,' said Ducane. 'And suppose I tell you and your little allowance to go to the devil?'

  'Why then, Sir, I would be forced to send the letters to the young ladies. I mean each young lady's letter to the other young lady: The letters were from Kate and Jessica.

  'It's convenient, Sir, as you'll notice that the young ladies both write by hand – lovely handwriting if I may say so – and both date their letters in the way that shows the year. And of course I've got the envelopes as well with the post-marks and your name written on.'

  In fact the letters had been written within two days of each other.

  Ducane thought quickly. Of course there was no question of his giving in to this appalling rogue. All the same he, simply could not bear the prospect of Kate and Jessica He said, 'I am afraid you have made a miscalculation, McGrath.

  Each of the young ladies, as you call them, is perfectly well informed of my affection for the other. You have nothing to threaten me with, since I am totally indifferent to what you propose.'

  'I trust you'll pardon me, Sir,' said McGrath, 'it's not that I want to call you a liar, but I wouldn't come to you like this all unprepared, now would I? I've made my little investigation.

  Like to know how I did it? As you see, each of the ladies writes on posh paper with their address and telephone number. They write their Christian names clear and legible, bless them, and it wasn't so difficult to find out their surnames. Then I ring up each of them and ask if I can speak to the other and each of them says, all surprised, they don't know anyone of that name.'

  'You are ingenious, McGrath,' said Ducane. He began to read through the two letters.

  Kate's letter ran as follows: Oh my darling John, how I miss you, it seems an age till our lovely weekend arrives. I hate to think of you all lonely in London without me, but it won't be long until we are reunited. You are my property, you know, and I have a strong sense of property! I shall assert my rights! Don't be long away from me, my sweet, haste the day and the hour. Oh how heavenly it is, John, to be able to speak love to you and to know that you feel as I do! Love, love, love.

  Your Kate. P. S. Willy Kost sends regards and hopes to see you too. Jessica's letter ran as follows: My dearest, my dearest, my John, this is just my usual daily missive to tell you what you know, that I love you to distraction. You were so infinitely sweet to me yesterday after I had been so awful and you know how unutterably grateful I am that you stayed. I lay there on the bed afterwards for an hour and cried – with gratitude. Are we not somehow compelled by love? I shall not let one day pass without giving you the assurance of mine. Surely there is a future for us together. I am yours yours yours Jessica Oh my God, said Ducane to himself. How very much he did not want those girls to see each other's letters. It would be no good explaining Kate's ecstatic temperament to Jessica, or explaining to Kate that Jessica was living in a world of fantasy.

  Kate's letter read just like a note from a mistress. Jessica would be certain that he had lied, and he could not bear that.

  He could bear to part from Jessica but he could scarcely bear that she should think so ill of him. And Jessica's letter was even more suggestive. Perhaps he could try to confess it all to Kate – but the tender romantic spell would be broken and Kate would justly feel herself deceived. Would she entirely believe him, in any case? Things could never be the same again between them.

  Yet Ducane also saw with awful clarity that there was nothing to be done. He could not do business with McGrath, it would be an intolerable situation as well as being quite wrong.

  The only hope was to frighten the man.

  'Understand quite clearly, McGrath,' said Ducane, 'that I am not going to give way to this evil proposal of yours. I am not going to pay you a single penny. And if you send those two letters to those two young women I shall go straight to the police and charge you with blackmail. You would not enjoy a long sojourn in prison, I think.'

  'Oh come now, come now, Sir,' said McGrath his flabby face simpering. 'I don't think you can mean that. Why if you were to do that, Sir, I'd simply have to let the newspapers have the story. And the two young ladies would be so upset!'

  'You absolute villain,' said Ducane.

  , Now don't take on so. After all, Sir, it's man to man now, it's your advantage against mine. Why should you weigh in the scales more than I do?'

  Ducane thought, all I can do is play for time. He won't send the letters while he thinks it possible I may pay up. I'll just have to explain the whole thing to Kate and Jess, to prepare them.

  But oh how can I? He said to McGrath, 'You are in a strong position, I don't deny it, McGrath. I congratulate you on your cleverness. I'll think over your project. We might be able to come to some arrangement, provided your requirements were very modest. And I warn you if they ever ceased to be modest I would go straight to the police. But I need time to think the matter over. Come and see me again in two or three days' time.'

  'Thank you, Sir, thank you,' said McGrath. 'I knew you'd be quiet and sensible like. May I hope, Sir, for a little bit on account, not committing you to anything like, but just to show we're friends?'

  'I rather doubt if we're friends,' said Ducane, 'But here's two pounds.'

  'Oh thank you, thank you. And do remember, Sir, if I may make so bold, and that's another thing, there's always Judy, my wife you know, we understand each other, Judy and I, and Judy's always been a willing girl, philosophical you might say, and Judy took quite a fancy to you, Sir, and if you should ever feel the urge '

  'How dare you talk to me like that about your wife!' cried Ducane. 'Get out of here. Get out.' He rushed to the door and opened it.

  Fivey jumped hastily back and pretended to be tidying the hall table.

 
'Listening, were you!' Ducane roared at him. 'Now, McGrath, clear off!'

  'Yes, Sir, yes, sir, but I'll come back like we said,' McGrath murmured, scurrying into the hall. He paused for a moment in front of Fivey and they regarded each other like two dogs; Then he darted out of the hall door.

  Ducane turned to Fivey. 'You're drunk!' he shouted. 'I can smell it on your breath. Be off to bed. And if I ever catch you eavesdropping again I'll sack you on the spot.'

  Fivey vacillated, caressed Ducane with a startled reproachful look of his pure brown eyes, rotated, and began carefully to mount the stairs. Ducane went back into the drawing-room and slammed the door.

  He tore the two photographs into small pieces. He sat down and put his head in his hands. In fact he had been deceiving Kate and Jess up to the hilt. There was no 'explanation' of his conduct. His conduct would look bad, just as bad as it was. He was justly served. And then the scoundrel had the impudence to offer him his wife! He could not believe that Judy McGrath – At that moment Ducane suddenly thought of something which ought to have been clear to him a good deal earlier.

  'What seat, Paula? T 'Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time.'

  'What?'

  'Nothing.'

  , When shall we start reading the Aeneid?'

  'Later. After – Later.'

  'After what?'

  'Later.'

  'What seat, my dear?'

  'Nothing, Willy. Why, here comes Barbara to see you. I must go. Thanks for the tutorial!'

  Eric's ship is steaming northward through the Indian Ocean, and Eric is in the prow, Eric is the ship's figurehead, with his big varnished face and his stiff golden hair streaming backward. He leans across the brilliant sea, sending towards the north, toward the decisive meeting, the narrow burning beam of his will. That unappeased violence, in him travels to the encounter.

  With what can it be opposed? Is there any love still for healing, or only the need of courage in the face of force?

  What profit now even to run away, since discovery would be so certain and flight merely the fearful waiting in a stranger's room for those inevitable feet upon the stair? He must be awaited here with closed lips, no single word uttered, no confession made, no assistance asked. It is too late, and pride will not now surrender its captive. After so much of cleverness, so much of subtlety, so much of the insolence of reason, comes that at last which must be dumbly faced. Eric, not now to be controlled or managed, must, with whatever outcome, be totally endured.

  The necessary courage is that full endurance in secrecy, that being dismembered in secrecy, the willingness to surrender, in whatever strange way it might be asked for, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. And this had to be, not only because of the relentless journeying ship, but because of the unredeemed past buried alive in its demoniac silence. Now let a demon courage rise to face that resurrected bloodstained shade.

  But oh, the human weakness, the desire for the comforter, the frail crying wish that it had all never happened at all and things were as they once were. The bitter memory of the newly painted door and the beautiful woman entering. The bitterness of that bitterness. Oh Richard, Richard, Richard.

  'Why, Henrietta, here all alone? Where's Edward?'

  'He's hunting for Montrose.'

  'Henrietta, you're crying. What is it, my little pussy? Sit down here and tell me.'

  'everything's awful.'

  'Why, what's awful? Tell me all the things that are awful.'

  'We can't find Montrose anywhere.'

  'Montrose will come back. Cats always do. Don't you fret then.'

  'And we found a dead fish in our special pool.'

  'They have to die sometime, Henrietta, just like us.'

  'And we saw a bad magpie carrying off a poor frog.'

  'The magpie has to eat, you know! And I don't suppose the frog really knew what was happening at all.'

  'I do wish the animals wouldn't hurt each other.'

  'We human beings hurt each other too!'

  'And we found a poor seagull with a broken wing and Uncle Theo drowned it.'

  'That was the only thing to do, Henrietta.'

  'And I dreamed last night that we were back with Daddy and it was all all right again, and when I woke up I was so miserable.

  Why, Mummy, what is it? Why, Mummy, now you're crying too…'

  'I've learnt the flute quartet in major.'

  'I know.'

  'Oh, you've been listening! It was supposed to be a surprise.'

  'I heard you the other day when I was walking by the house.'

  , May I come up and play it to you?'

  'No.'

  , Why not? You used to let me come here and play to you.'

  'Not any more.'

  'Why not, Willy?'

  'The music is too painful, dearest Barbara.'

  , You think I wouldn't play it properly! I have improved.'

  'No, no, I could hear you were playing it beautifully.'

  'Willy, why won't you teach me German? You teach Pierce Latin so why not me German?'

  'Just not.' – 'I don't understand you. I think you've become horrid.

  Everyone's horrid. Pierce is horrid.'

  'Pierce is in love.

  'pooh! What's being in love like, Willy?'

  'I've forgotten.'

  'Well, I suppose you are rather old. If I'm ever in love with someone I won't be horrid to them.'

  'Thats a very good rule, Barbara. Remember that rule when the time comes.'

  'You remember how you used to say that I was Titania and you were the ass?'

  'Did I? Well, I'm still the ass. I'm going to London tomorrow, Barbie.'

  'I know. You're going to stay two days with John. John told me.'

  'I'm going to the libraries.'

  'I'll come and see you as soon as you're back. I'll be lonely, with mama and papa away.'

  'I'll be working then. Come at the week-end.'

  'Why not directly you're back?'

  'Nam excludit sors mea «saepe veni».'

  'You keep saying things in Latin and you know I can't understand.

  I might understand if you wrote it down. But I can't talk Latin, and you pronounce it in such a funny way.'

  'Never mind.'

  'I wish you wouldn't be so horrid, Willy, just when I'm so miserable about Montrose.'

  'Don't worry about Montrose, Barbie, hell turn up. He's just wandered off on an expedition.'

  'But he's never done it before. He's not a real torn cat. He wouldn't want to go away.'

  'I'm sure he'll come back, my dove. There now, don't cry.

  You upset me so much when you cry.'

  'I don't think you care at all. I think you're beastly.'

  Barbara, sitting on the floor beside Willy's chair, had twinc, l her arms about his knees. Willy now rose abruptly, steppir, out of the wreath of her arms and marching over to the window.

  'Stop crying, Barbara.'

  Out of sheer surprise she stopped, and sat there snuffling and mopping her eyes, her bare feet, just visible underneath her green and white spotted dress, nestling together like two little brown birds.

  Willy took hold of the window-sill, pushed aside the latest stones which the twins had brought and the glass which held the now limp and drooping nettles, and began to look intently through his Swiss binoculars at nothing in particular. I shall have to leave this place, thought Willy. The agony was each time greater of not being able to seize Barbara violently in his arms.

  'What are you looking at, Willy?'

  'Nothing, child.'

  'You can't be looking at nothing. You're so dull today. I shall jolly well go away.'

  'Don't go, Barbie. Yes, you'd better go. I've got to work.'

  'All right, I shall go and ride my pony. And I'll never play you that Mozart.'

  'Do something for me, will you, Barb?'

  'Possibly. What is it?'

  'Go and find Pierce and be specially nice to him.'

  'Well, maybe. I'll see how
I feel. Have a nice time in London.'

  After she had gone Willy Kost locked the door and went into his bedroom and lay face downwards on his bed. The sheer physical strain of the last half hour had left him limp and shuddering.

  He could not decide if it was worse when she touched him or when she did not. There was a raw agony of yearning which was soothed by her touch. And yet at such moments the checking of the inclination of his whole body towards hers racked every nerve and muscle. To sit there inertly while she caressed his hair or stroked his knee required an exertion of physical strength which made him ache. And all the while vivid imagery of embracing her, kissing her passionately, taking her on to his lap, surrounded Barbara with a golden aura of pain.

  I thought it might have got better, Willy said to himself, but it seems to have got worse. I shall have to do something, I shall have to go away, if things go on like this I shall go mad.

  He began deliberately to think about Mary and at last a sweet soothing faintness began to creep over him like a light mist. He was not in love with Mary, but he loved her very dearly, and he had been more profoundly moved and delighted by her proposal than he had yet been able to express to her in the two affectionate, confused, inconclusive meetings he had had with her since the scene in the graveyard. Perhaps he would marry Mary and take her right away. Perhaps that was the solution.

  Why should he not even now make a dash for happiness?

  Was it too late? Had the past really broken him?

  Willy lay motionless face downward on his bed as the sun went down toward the sea and the evening made the landward colours seeth with vividness and then faded them into a luminous blue midsummer dark. He lay there wide-eyed and listened quietly to Theo who tapped for a while upon the door and then went slowly away.

  Twenty-two

  'Ye highlands and ye lowlands,

  Oh where hae ye been?

  They hae slain the Earl of Murray

  And hae laid him on the green.'

  'Oh shut up, Fivey!' Ducane shouted through the drawing room door.

  The kitchen door banged. The drawing-room door banged.

  'Sorry, Willy,' said Ducane. 'My nerves are on edge.'