The Sacred and Profane Love Machine

by Iris Murdoch

  He felt now so absolutely ‘in the truth’ with Harriet, as if he had already told her and been forgiven. Because of her there seemed, oddly, to be nothing fake in their relationship. He drank from her calmness, her tenderness, a sort of spurious strength which ought to have been, but could not be an instrument of his salvation. Oh how could he have been such a witless fool as so to ruin and lose what, in his continued false possession of it, he saw now to be supremely valuable? If only he were living now in ordinary honest wedlock with such a wife and with such a son he would be the happiest man in the whole world. Emily had cheated him not only of his goodness but of his destined happy life. Sometimes he hated her for this so much that he wanted to kill her.

  It was all becoming increasingly urgent for him as a question of truth, a choice for him between truth and death. Where truth was death too. Yet could he still be saved by an angel and could that angel be Harriet? At night he often dreamed that he had told Harriet and that all was somehow perfectly well. And in waking moments too he thought, could there not be some way of getting safely past that awful barrier that stood before him as an implacable iceberg, as an image of absolute smash: some way of telling the truth, and yet keeping everything just as it was before, like a juggler with a pile of balanced plates who jerks one out and keeps the others steady?

  How spoilt and wretched his life was through his own fault. And how miserably unjust it all was to Emily. ‘Our love has just never had a chance. It’s had to live all its life under the carpet. No wonder it’s as flat as a pancake!’ Still, however unjustly, it was simply the case that the balance had shifted, the picture had changed. Had Harriet, just by innocently loving him, just by smiling and arranging the flowers and being his legitimate wife, finally won? And if so what followed from that?

  Blaise remembered that he had not fed the dogs. He had had these two dogs since he was quite a little boy, both of them smooth-haired fox terriers, named Tango and Rumba by Blaise’s father, who was fond of dancing. Blaise felt terrible guilt and fear because he remembered that the dogs were shut into the old stables and no one knew they were there and no one would hear them barking. They had been there for days and days, for weeks. How could he possibly have forgotten them, and what would his father say? He began to run, but his feet had become large and heavy and were cleaving to the earth. At last he reached the stables and unbarred the top half of the door of the last loose box and peered into the obscure interior. There was no movement within. He looked and looked. Then with horror he saw the two dogs. They had become dark and dried up and elongated and were hanging from hooks upon the wall. He thought, when I did not come they must have hanged themselves. Then he thought, no, they have died and become something else, and the gardener thought they were some sort of tools or implements and hung them up. But what sort of tools or implements have they become?

  ‘Wake up, damn you, wake up!’

  Emily was shaking him by the shoulder. Blaise awoke and was immediately dazzled by the bright bedside lamp. Emily, lying beside him, had tilted the lamp so that it shone directly on to his face. He shut his eyes again. Then opened them and looked at his watch. It was three o’clock.

  ‘I told you not to do that. It’s absolute hell being wakened up like that.’

  ‘And it’s absolute hell lying awake and thinking the thoughts I’m thinking and listening to you snore.’

  ‘Put out the light.’

  ‘I want to tell you something.’

  ‘You’ve decided to take Luca to Australia, well off you go then.’

  ‘How can I bloody go to Australia when I’ve got no bloody money?’

  ‘I see you’ve bought a fur coat. I asked you not to buy any clothes till the sales.’

  ‘You notice everything, don’t you. Well, clever-dick, it’s not a fur coat, it’s simulated, and I didn’t buy it, Pinn gave it to me. I gave her a pound for it.’

  ‘That’s called buying it. Put out the light and let’s sleep.’

  ‘Sleep, sleep, you just want to sleep all the time now. We used to stay awake all night. Now you want to go beddy-byes at ten.’

  ‘If we didn’t stupefy ourselves with drink we wouldn’t get so comatose.’

  ‘I like that. You taught me to drink. I suppose we need the stuff now to get through an evening together. God!’

  ‘Well, get on with what you want to tell me.’

  ‘I was too frightened to tell you earlier. I’m getting feebleminded.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I usedn’t to be frightened of you. Now I’m frightened of everything, even you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve given up my job.’

  ‘Christ! Why?’

  ‘I’ve decided to retire. Other men support their wives. I’m tired. I’m getting old. You can start supporting me.’

  ‘You know I can’t afford to. You know we agreed —’

  ‘Be quiet, you’ll wake Luca.’

  ‘He must be awake already. What’s that noise? Christ, somebody’s at the front door.’

  ‘Relax, it isn’t Mrs Placid with a blunt instrument, it’s only Pinn letting herself in.’

  ‘Pinn?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the other thing I was too timid to tell you. I’ve taken a lodger. Pinn lives here now.’

  ‘You mean you’ve taken Pinn as a lodger?’

  ‘I’ve just told you that.’

  ‘How dare you do so without asking me.’

  ‘Well, you aren’t here all that often. I live here, I imagine. It’s my home.’

  ‘It’s my home too. I pay the bloody rent.’

  ‘That’s about all you do do, to make it your home. And that reminds me, there’s a third thing. You won’t like this either. They’re putting up the rent in October, it’ll be nearly double.’

  ‘You seem pleased. Em, how can you have been so stupid about Pinn? Do you think she’s listening at the door?’

  ‘No, she’s gone into her room. She’s my friend, isn’t she? And she’s made herself jolly useful.’

  ‘Well you can tell her to get out tomorrow. I’m not coming here if Pinn’s here. You can bloody well choose. How can I be with you when that woman’s in the house snooping and listening?’

  ‘What does it matter now?’

  ‘You’ve done this on purpose to upset me. And you’ve given up your job on purpose.’

  ‘Maybe I have. Maybe I feel it’s time for a change.’

  ‘Tell blasted Pinn to get out tomorrow or I will.’

  ‘She pays rent you know. However it’s up to you. You’ll have to double my allowance, what am I saying, triple it’

  ‘I can’t, you know I can’t.’

  ‘I don’t know anything of the sort, I don’t see your bank account.’

  ‘Please, Em, have some consideration for me.’

  ‘Why should I? You even grudge me the money to get my teeth fixed.’

  ‘I can’t afford it! Especially now. Harriet has to make economies too —’

  ‘I told you never to mention that name. Economies! You mean do without the gold dinner service and the third car?’

  ‘We only have one car —’

  ‘I don’t want to know. "We" and "us" and roughing it with one motor car!’

  ‘If some of this dental work is really necessary —’

  ‘God, you are crawlingly mean. Don’t you want me to look nice?’

  ‘I don’t care how you look. We’re too close to each other for that to matter.’

  ‘Do you imagine you’re the only person who ever looks at me? Well, you obviously do. Or are you afraid I’ll attract another man?’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Em.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s not just aesthetic. To eat, teeth must meet.’

  ‘You know that if something is absolutely necessary —’

  ‘And what about my holiday, if it comes to that, or don’t I get one again this year? When am I going to see Paris?’

  ‘Oh do shut up.’

  ‘An
d I need new chair covers.’

  ‘I suggest you persuade the bloody cats not to tear the place up.’

  ‘Destruction is their only pleasure. Soon it will be mine.’

  ‘We’ll make a list —’

  ‘I know your bloody lists. You make a list and then you feel faint and clear off. I give you notice, the years of heroism are over. I used to tighten my belt, Christ, I almost enjoyed it, I did enjoy it, suffering for you and all that. But not any more. The pain doesn’t amuse me any more.’

  ‘Well, what do you want? You know we’re simply stuck.’

  ‘We can unstick, even if it unsticks the world. You ask what I want. I want a bit of security at last. You pay the rent here, you say. Fine, but what happens if you go under a bus? You’ve always kept me on a shoe-string on purpose to keep me tame and humble —’

  ‘That’s not true. You know I’d be very glad –’

  ‘If I went to Australia and was never heard of again. Thanks very much! No such luck.’

  ‘That wasn’t what —’

  ‘I’m afraid of the future. I want to be set up properly. I’m sick and tired of living on hand-outs.’

  ‘You’re not living on hand-outs. I give you a regular allowance —’

  ‘You’ve taken my life. Christ, I’m thirty-one, and I’m terrified of poverty and old age. That’s what you’ve done to me!"

  ‘You know exactiy where you are financially —’

  ‘Up Shit’s Creek without a paddle! I want a house. I want you to buy me a house.’

  ‘I can’t! You know what houses cost now!’

  ‘Well, sell something. Sell your other bloody house. Let her live in a flat for a change.’

  ‘Oh Em dear, don’t be silly. Don’t let’s start up this sort of mechanical argument again. We had it last week, we’ll have it next week —’

  ‘We haven’t had this argument before. Remember. I’ve given up my job and I’m bloody well —’

  ‘Please. When you use that awful tone we both stop being human beings and become machines.’

  ‘We used to be two happy machines stimulating each other.’

  ‘Oh go to sleep.’

  ‘You wish I was dead, don’t you, don’t you?’

  ‘Stop speaking in that tone.’

  ‘Go to sleep, he says. Do you imagine either of us can sleep now?’

  ‘Look, kid, please. I’ve got to work tomorrow.’

  ‘Work! Don’t make me laugh! You call it work chatting with women about their sex lives? Nice work if you can get it!’

  ‘Just stop talking, will you.’

  ‘Do you imagine I’m going to let you go to sleep and leave me with the thoughts I’ve got?’

  ‘I’ve got thoughts too —’

  ‘What’s the use of sleep anyway, when it’s nothing but a nightmare.’

  ‘We’re in this hell together. Let’s at least be kind to each other.’

  ‘I’ve been being kind to you for years and getting kicked in the teeth for it.’

  ‘I’ve done what I can.’

  ‘What sort of ruddy nonsense is that, I’d like to know! "Done what you can"! You wait and see what you’ll be able to do when you have to! People never get justice until they start being violent about it, then the others cough up pretty quick. I’m going to make you cough up. It’s just about my turn, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll show you my bank account —’

  ‘I don’t mean money, I mean real stuff, action, blood. God, I’ve been fading away, I hardly know myself. I’ve got all tame and timid. No wonder you’ve stopped loving me. Maybe a little violence will make me real again.’

  ‘Stop it, kid. You’ve said all this before.’

  ‘That’s right, look at your watch! Soon you’ll be saying that you’ve got to go. You haven’t got to go. You can stay here all day if you want to. You don’t want to.’

  I’m not free any more than you are. Do you think I enjoy this situation –?’

  ‘Change it, then.’

  ‘You know there’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘I’m not talking about we. I’m talking about me. God, you’ve made me into a bloody wet. I’m a fighter and you’ve made me into a weak person. I’m not a weak person. I’ll never forgive you. I’m a fighter by nature but because I loved you I put up with it all without a whimper. God, what I’ve put up with! I’ve been as quiet as a little mouse for years. No wonder you think you can make me accept anything. Well, you’re fucking wrong.’

  ‘You haven’t been quiet for years, you’ve been screaming. And now that vile Pinn is here to listen.’

  ‘Perhaps I want a witness for when you kill me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Em.’

  ‘I know you want to kill me. I know I’m just a nightmare to you. You’d like to strangle me. Well, go ahead.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘So are you. You ought to see your face now. You look like a bloated gangster. All right, now tell me what I look like.’

  ‘Em, stop. Use a bit of self-control.’

  ‘You used to say your relation with Mrs Placid was so dull because there was no violence in it.’

  ‘I’m tired of violence.’

  ‘You mean you’re tired of me. I was just for kicks, I suppose.’

  ‘Please, dearest Em —’

  ‘Oh don’t get smarmy, that won’t let you out. Handsome is as handsome does. At least Pinn’s always stood by me and helped me.’

  ‘She’s in love with you, can’t you see that? She’s always been a mischief-maker. I won’t have her in the house, I’ve told you, I mean it.’

  ‘If you don’t like my friends you can stay away.’

  ‘I won’t keep bloody Pinn in drink.’

  ‘You come less and less often anyway. Why don’t you stay away altogether. That’s what you’d like to do.’ ‘You know I’ll never abandon you, you know I’ll be faithful—’

  ‘That’s machine talk. I wish I had a quid for every time you’ve said that. Anyway, do you call this faithfulness? You do the bloody minimum and you know it. All your faithfulness does for me is prevent me from finding someone else who’d really love me and look after me. God, to think I’ve given my whole life to you and it’s bloody dust and ashes.’

  ‘Em, be a little kind to me, please. Just for a change.’

  ‘Not that I’d care if you did come less often. Sometimes when you aren’t around I feel almost happy, well not happy, that’s impossible, but sort of contented, for a minute, now and then. Your visits just upset everything, they’re so bloody meaningless, they upset me, they upset Luca —’

  ‘Em, just try —’

  ‘I pray every day that I’ll stop loving you.’

  ‘Please, let’s break out of this circle.’

  ‘All right, let’s! Suppose you go tomorrow and tell Mrs Placid all about me and Luca and how you’re going to set us up in a house and live with us and visit her in her flat once a week!’

  ‘You know I can’t do that —’

  ‘I don’t know anything of the sort, that’s the point! Can’t you see this thing from my position for bloody once? Why shouldn’t she suffer for a change? Why shouldn’t she share the suffering, why should I do it all?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be sharing. You wouldn’t suffer less if she suffered more.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I just! I’d never stop laughing!’

  ‘You don’t just want revenge —’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I want revenge? Your bloody bourgeois genteel set-up over there, I’d like to smash it to pieces.’

  ‘All right, let off steam, you don’t mean any of this.’

  ‘Don’t I? You wait. I’ll carry the war into the enemy’s camp. War on the bloody rich. I know how the poor live. I only took up with you because I was afraid of poverty and what it does to people. Night after night I saw my step-father bashing my mother until at last he killed her.’

  ‘I’m not responsible for your step-father.’

  ‘Yes, you
are. You’re the principle of evil in my life. You’re just my step-father by other means. There’s psychology for you.’

  ‘Let’s stop this slanging match, shall we? You always boast of coming out of the gutter, but at least you can behave like an educated person —’

  ‘You mean like a lady. Like dear Mrs Placid. I know it’s a class thing. She’s top drawer and rich —’

  ‘She isn’t, actually —’

  ‘Of course I want revenge. I want her to know what a heel she’s married to.’

  ‘It’s not her fault—’

  ‘What do I care? It’s not my fault either.’

  ‘Yes it is. It’s mostly my fault, but it’s partly yours too.’

  ‘Do you want me to scream?’

  ‘Anyway, she does suffer. She doesn’t suspect this, but she knows she’s lost my love.’

  ‘That valuable commodity! That was true once. I think you’ve gone back to her. Do you make love to her?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘I don’t believe you. You lie to her. You probably lie to me. In a year or two you’ll ditch us both and go off with a young girl. You’re just a typical male chauvinist.’

  ‘That’s Pinn’s mindless terminology. At least do your own thinking.’

  ‘If I hadn’t torn up all your love letters in a rage I could have sent them to Mrs Placid in a parcel. I’m going to ring her up tomorrow morning.’

  ‘You know you won’t do anything of the sort. Do you imagine our relation would survive if you did?’

  ‘I’m getting a bit tired of that old bogeyman. Why not let’s try and see what it’ll survive and what it won’t survive. I’m tired of waiting for my rights so that Mrs Placid’s boy won’t be damaged. Am I to wait till he’s thirty? Let him take his chance. My boy’s damaged, why shouldn’t hers be? You saw what Luca was like this evening.’

  ‘Is he talking more?’

  ‘No. He hasn’t spoken to me for a week. He talks to Pinn though.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I don’t know. I overheard a long spiel the other day about wriggly tadpoles. But if I come near him he plays dumb. He’ll be a fair mess when he grows up. And you won’t even go and see his schoolmaster.’