by Iris Murdoch
‘That’s not the question. Nothing’s in question, I told you, he rejects me.’
‘Then are you not mad? What are you going to do with this alleged love? Go on loving in vain for the rest of your life?’
‘I think, later on, he might let me work with him, help him in his work — his helping people — ’
‘Midge, you’re pathetic! I can’t take you seriously.’
‘You must take me seriously, we aren’t as we were — ’
‘I can’t recognise you. Who is speaking?’
‘I’m glad you say that. I feel that I’ve changed, I’ve got confidence, certainty. I can tell the truth. I’ve always been afraid of saying what I really thought, I’ve evaded direct questions, always hidden in half-truths. All those endless lies had got into me so that I couldn’t talk properly to anyone, as if I had no truthful language at all — it made me into a puppet, something unreal, we were unreal, I’ve often felt that.’
‘You never felt anything of the sort. We are the reality of the world, everything else is mere appearance. Midge, we love each other, we’ve said it a thousand times, said it clear-eyed and in the truth. Don’t distort the past. Our love is eternal and forever.’
‘It seemed so. I didn’t conceive that anything could happen so fast. Now I feel a kind of relief. Though I’m very miserable too.’
‘But all this is false, don’t you see, this thing about Stuart, it’s play-acting, it’s dreaming, it’s wicked fantastic dreaming, Stuart is nothing, he’s a simulacrum, a corpse, like Jesse said, he’s death itself. You admit he rejects you. If you leave me now you’ll be dead for the rest of your days. You’ll crawl back to Thomas. You’ll be an object of derision and contempt. Have you no pride? Do you want to die?’
‘Yes, I think so, I mean I just don’t care about — ’
‘I never thought I’d see you as a weak sentimental lying clown, spineless, timid, stupid, you are stupid — I wonder what Thomas will make of your new fantasy life?’
‘I think Thomas knowing would have killed our love at any time.’
‘So you deceived me?’
‘No. Well, I deceived myself. I was afraid to tell him.’
‘Because you thought if you confessed to him and he forgave you you’d realise you loved him after all — is that it? I thought the opposite — that if Thomas knew it would break your relation with him absolutely, it would snap. If he knew, you’d be mine in an instant. Hell, why do I use the past tense, that’s what I think now. When he knows, you’ll be mine.’
‘Why haven’t you told him then?’
‘Don’t make me raving mad! Because you didn’t want me to!’
‘I think you’re afraid of Thomas. We both are.’
Harry lowered his head almost as low as his knees, breathing hard, and groaned. Then he said, looking at her with his hardest look, ‘Well, now you’ll tell him? Or shall I? Perhaps you’d better. You can explain about Stuart, which is dark to me. Or will you tell him about Stuart and not about us? Or vice versa?’
‘I shall have to tell him everything now.’
‘Oh God. Maybe don’t tell him just yet, give us time to sort this other business out first, give yourself time to recover. When we’re perfectly together again we’ll tell him.’
‘Let’s not get in a muddle — ’
‘That’s your funniest remark yet.’
‘You are afraid of him.’
‘The fact is, we haven’t either of us the slightest idea how Thomas will react.’
‘It is all rather outrageous. After all, you’re his best friend — ’
‘Have you just thought of that, damn you? You’re not the only one with guilt feelings! I love you too much to trouble you with mine, I swallow all that by myself.’
‘Harry, you’ve been good to me — ’
‘Yes, I’m afraid, so maybe it’s best to get it over and sort out all the wreckage afterwards. Not that I see what he could do to me, change me into a toad. I don’t see what anyone could do to me now, if I lose you, Midge, I’m done for — I’ll drown.’ He saw the quiet empty boat, sailing itself, slowly yet too fast. He said, ‘Well, when will you tell him — today, this evening?’
‘I — I expect so — ’
‘You can’t face it. I’ll tell him.’
‘No — ’
‘Suppose he wants a divorce? Will you expect me to be waiting for you?’
‘No, I can’t — ’
‘I will be of course. When the storm breaks you’ll run to me, when you’ve told Thomas, everything will be destroyed except your bond with me. We’ll be all right, Midge, let’s go to him together.’
‘No — ’
‘My dear, my heart, I love you, you love me, you can’t undo our love, we belong utterly together till the world ends, we are one person, we’ve tested our love and it’s real, it’s strong, it’s good. I see it now, Stuart simply represents Thomas, that’s why you’re so confused, you’re anticipating the shock of confronting Thomas, you’re enacting it beforehand — so, don’t you see, the real shock when it comes will be less. Isn’t that how it is? Please don’t be crazy any more, be the old Midge, see, it’s only me, Harry, your love and your sweetheart. Don’t fail me now, don’t kill me with grief. You’ll recover, it’s the shock, it’s the strain, it’s a derangement, you’re ill, you’re not yourself, you’re in a dream. Wake up.’ Harry rose and moved the few feet towards her. He pulled her up, grasping her dress at the shoulder with violent hands. He shook her roughly to and fro, then threw her back into her chair. Her head met the back of the chair with an audible crack.
Midge put her hand to her head, staring up at him, and tears came into her eyes. She said, whispering, ‘If only you hadn’t taken him in the car, I’d have gone with you to the flat — but it’s too late now.’
There was a sound outside in the hall, Harry moved away and Midge rose, adjusting her dress and mopping her eyes. Then someone knocked on the drawing-room door. As Midge went towards the door it opened and a bald man came in, not immediately recognisable as Willy Brightwalton, since he had, advised by a wise American, given up brushing his wisps of hair across his crown, cut them off, and surrendered himself to tonsured baldness. He was also sun-tanned and thinner. Midge cried out, ‘Why, Willy! Welcome home.’
Willy advanced, kissed her on the cheek, and put a bag he was carrying down on a table. ‘Hello, Midge dear, I hope you don’t mind, I hoped I’d find you alone, I mean find you, at this hour in the morning. The door was open so I came in. Hello, Harry, I was going to call on you too, bit of luck really. I just got back yesterday, I feel awfully funny, my body clock says it’s midnight or something. I came nonstop from San Francisco, stayed awake all night watching a film, didn’t get a wink of sleep. Ursula wanted me to stay in bed all day, but I felt far too restless and bouncy — ’
‘Are you glad to be back?’ said Harry.
‘Well, yes and no. I had the most tremendous fun in California, Giles. drove me all the way down the coast, and we saw whales, big grey whales, migrating, quite near to the land, and seals and sea otters, you’d have loved it, and we drove down to Mexico and we saw the Grand Canyon and numerous deserts. They love deserts over there. We glimpsed Ursula, she was at a grand conference you know in San Diego, but she didn’t stay long, she hates America, I don’t, I must say it suits me, one does feel more free, or perhaps it’s just being in another university and feeling irresponsible. I was lecturing on Proust and met some pretty good Proustians, both faculty and students. We had a Proust-reading marathon to raise money for ecology, it was terribly funny, they called it a Proustathon — ’
‘How’s Giles?’ said Midge.
‘Spiffing! That word’s part of an act I put on to amuse the Americans — it came out quite naturally. He’s in cracking form. He’s published an article which has become quite famous, I couldn’t understand a word of it!’
‘Do you think he’ll stay there?’
‘I fear he may. I hoped he’d g
o to Oxford, but tout casse, tout lasse, still it’s not all that far away nowadays. He’s thinking of buying a house with a palm tree and a swimming pool, everyone has a swimming pool there, I’ve done a lot of swimming — ’
‘You look very well,’ said Harry.
‘Talking of Proust, how’s Edward?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Harry, ‘he’s moved out. I think he’s all right.’
‘Oh — and Stuart? I told Giles to write him. Dear me, I’ve picked up endless Americanisms. I say “guy” and “do you have” — Has Stuart given up his crazy plans?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Oh dear. I’ve got some stufffrom Giles to give to Stuart. And presents for everyone. I’ve just brought yours round, Midge darling, may I unload? I’d have brought Harry’s if I’d known.’ As Willy began to unpack his bag Harry sat down beside the table, staring at Midge, who avoided his gaze.
‘That’s just some candy. And a bottle of Bourbon for Thomas, not that he drinks much, he’s awfully hard to find presents for, Giles wanted me to buy him a disastrous American tie, that was a joke of course. Here’s a pair of funny stockings, the girls there wear them, it’s the fashion, very pretty girls, I must say, a bit tall for me though. And here’s a blouse and two dresses, one of the faculty wives took me to a shop which she said was the dernier cri, please excuse her accent — ’
‘Oh Willy — what perfectly lovely things — what a darling dress, and that one, such perfect colours, and the little fluffy blouse — how awfully kind of you — ’
‘I hope the sizes are right. I’m so glad you like them. They’re absolutely you, aren’t they. And that’s a little necklace, it’s just glass, but I thought it was rather cute.’
‘Willy, you’ve been extravagant, thank you so much!’
‘Well, that’s the lot, glad to have given satisfaction. By the way, what Sunday paper do you get? I don’t suppose you ever see this one, it’s rather on the “popular” side. A friend of Ursula’s left it for her, she’s away again, on a course, always learning something. I had a look at it — this would interest both of you — there’s an article about Edward’s father — look, there’s a photo of him when he was young, looking exactly like Edward. I haven’t had time to read it actually, perhaps we could have it back, I’m sure Ursula would like to see it.’ Willy spread the paper out on the table. Harry picked it up.
Midge said, ‘I’ve got to go out soon, Willy, but let’s meet before long and you can tell us all your adventures.’
‘I’ve had plenty, I can tell you, I got mugged!’
‘No!’
‘Very mildly. A guy with a knife asked for my wallet. I didn’t argue! And then when we were at the Grand Canyon — ’
‘Willy, you must go, I’m longing to hear but it must wait.’ Midge escorted Willy out into the hall. ‘I hope you bought some clothes for yourself too. What a fine coat, is that new, it’s camel-hair, isn’t it? Goodbye, and thank you so much.’
The door closed. Midge stood for a few moments breathing deeply. She looked at herself in the mirror which hung above the big Jacobean chest on which people put their coats. Her face was shiny, but no one would have guessed it was from dried tears. Her dress had come apart at little at the shoulder, but it didn’t show much. She went back into the drawing room.
Harry said, ‘We’re blown.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mrs Baltram has written about us.’
‘Written about us?’
‘Yes. She’s going to publish her memoirs, all about Jesse’s love life, and they’ve printed the most up-to-date bit which features Edward and us.’
‘But — I don’t understand — what does she say — does she give our names?’
‘Pretty well. Look, read this bit.’
I may mention here a more recent example of Jesse’s extraordinary power of bringing about coincidences and of drawing people to him by will. Madness surrounds genius and an electrical psychological band surrounds great men. Edward had been with us for some time and was becoming, in the unpolluted natural atmosphere of our home, less disturbed, when two surprising things happened. His step-brother Stuart turned up, whether inspired by curiosity or some desire to help I cannot say. He seemed a rather simple though well-intentioned youth, but if he came to ‘do good’ to poor Edward he had little time to effect this because of the drama which followed hard upon. It was a foggy night and rat-tat on the door and behold a couple, a man and a woman, who announced themselves as Mr and Mrs Bentley. Their car had become embedded in the fen, a not unusual accident, and we were asked to help pull it out, which of course we agreed to do, we often play the role of good samaritans. About this time Jesse made one of his evening appearances, suddenly entering the hall like a king in full beauty, holding his stick like a sceptre and gazing imperiously round. A sudden scream, a cry of ‘Chloe’, and my lord was embracing the woman who was it turned out Chloe’s sister. She had thrown herself upon him like a leaping cat. This character has, you will recall, already appeared as a schoolgirl in this story, I recounted how she turned up one day with Chloe and sat mum at our table, intimidated to be in such unusual company and staring about with her mouth open. Jesse enquired who she was but paid little attention to the answer, she was a plain little girl. The resemblance in later years to Chloe was more perceptible though slight, however
Jesse saw it and was translated back in time. The pattern was completed when it turned out that ‘Mr Bentley’ was a relation of Stuart’s! Undismayed we pulled their car out of the fen and sent them on their way complete with Stuart. Jesse, none the worse for his time-trip, went to bed and had forgotten the episode the next morning.
Midge laid the paper down. ‘But — will anyone notice — I mean she doesn’t say our names — ’
‘Of course they’ll notice. The news will go round. Everyone will read this. Someone kindly brought the paper to Ursula! It’s headed Jesse Baltram’s Harem. Jesse’s suddenly famous. And so are we.’
‘Harry, I don’t understand — we don’t take this paper — Thomas won’t have seen it — and it just says a relation of Stuart’s — ’
‘Stuart hasn’t any relations who know you except me. Or do you expect us to invent one? God, why did it have to happen like this? It’s no good, this will be discussed at every dinner party, in every gossip column. The implications are as clear as crystal. We needn’t argue any more about who’s going to tell Thomas. The world will tell him.’
At that moment there was the soft sound of a key in the front door, and a step in the hall. Thomas entered the drawing room closing the door behind him. When he saw Harry he stopped, opened the door again and pointedly stood aside. Harry walked out of the door and out of the house.
Thomas went to the table, saw the open pages which Midge had laid down, and threw on top of them a copy of the same Sunday paper and of a popular daily paper. He said, ‘I suppose “Mr Bentley” is Harry?’
‘Yes.’
‘With whom you’ve been having a love affair?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you go to that place to show yourself and your lover to Jesse?’
‘No, it was an accident.’
‘How long has this affair been going on?’
‘Two years.’
‘Two years?’
‘Yes.’ Midge moved over to the window, threw open the door onto the balcony, and sat down near it. Thomas followed.
‘Did Meredith know?’
‘Yes. He saw me and Harry here. He knew we’d been making love.’
‘You mean you made love here, in this house?’
‘Yes, in the spare room. We used to meet at Harry’s place before Stuart moved in.’
‘And you’re in love with Harry?’
Midge hesitated. ‘Well — I was — yes.’
‘What do you mean you were? Do you want a divorce so you can marry him?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to
marry him,’ said Midge. She began to cry a little, keeping it in control, averting her face.
‘You want him as a lover not a husband? Does he want you to get a divorce?’
‘Yes.’
‘You say you don’t want a divorce but if, as it appears, you love him and not me wouldn’t that be sensible? Please say what you want.’
‘If you want a divorce — ’
‘Are you expecting me to accept this liaison, which incidentally is now public knowledge? In case there was any ambiguity a well-known gossip columnist has named names. Do you want to go on being my wife and his mistress, is that it?’
‘No. My relation with Harry is now over. It ended before I knew about that article. I was going to tell you. I hope you’ll believe me.’
‘I don’t think I do. I think you’re just defending yourself after the shock of being found out. When did the relation end, as you say?’
‘I think — it was a few days ago.’
‘When you realised you could not conceal it any longer. You decided to say it was over. To help yourselves over a difficult time and then resume. It doesn’t sound like a coincidence that “you think” it ended a few days ago! Please be honest and tell me.’
‘It was because of Stuart.’
‘Stuart? Of course, he was there, and Edward. And Meredith knew. Weren’t you afraid Meredith would tell me?’
‘I asked him not to.’
Thomas, standing near her, one hand stretched out to touch the wall, was silent a moment. He said, ‘You have defiled everything. But just let me understand. Edward and Stuart have been discreet — and Meredith too … But no doubt you felt you could not rely on their discretion for ever. Hence this change of tactics. To hide your relationship more securely by pretending it is over?’
‘No, no — it was Stuart — he told me I ought to tell you. He wasn’t going to tell you. He said I ought to.’
‘But why should that have altered anything? Look, I just can’t believe that a relationship which has lasted for two years under difficult circumstances can suddenly dissolve like that. Deception on that scale demands a great deal of thought and energy and — commitment. It must have been the major part of your life, your chief activity. You must have felt you were really married to Harry. Why should Stuart matter?’