by Muriel Spark
Eventually she told the Baron that she simply wasn’t interested in black magic. She forbade the subject.
‘It gets on my nerves, Willi. I have no sympathy with your occult interests. Talk about something else in future.’
‘You are lost,’ he said sadly, ‘to the world of ideas. You had the makings of an inter-esting mind, I do assure you, Caroline. Ah, well!’
One morning Caroline had an unexpected caller. She had opened the door of her flat unguardedly, expecting the parcel post. For a second Caroline got the impression that nobody was there, but then immediately she saw the woman standing heavily in the doorway and recognized the indecent smile of Mrs Hogg just as she had last seen it at St Philumena’s.
‘May I have a word with you, Miss Rose?’ Already the woman was in the small square hall, taking up most of it.
‘I’m busy,’ Caroline said. ‘I work in the mornings. Is it anything urgent?’
Mrs Hogg glared with her little eyes. ‘It’s important,’ she said.
‘Will you come inside, then?’
She seated herself in Caroline’s own chair and cast her eyes on the notebook in which Caroline had been writing. It was lying on a side table. Caroline leant forward and snapped the book shut.
‘There is a Baron Stock,’ said Mrs Hogg. ‘He was in your flat till after one o’clock this morning. He was in your flat till after two on Wednesday morning. You were in his flat till after midnight twice the week before last. If you think you are going to catch Laurence Manders with this carry-on —’
‘You are insolent,’ Caroline said. ‘You’ll have to leave.’
‘Till after two on Wednesday morning. Baron Stock is more attractive than Laurence Manders, I don’t doubt, but I think it low behaviour and so would everyone —’
‘Take yourself off,’ said Caroline.
She left, pathetic and lumpy as a public response. Caroline seized the phone angrily and rang Helena.
‘Would you mind calling off your Mrs Hogg. She’s just been round here making wild insinuations about my private life, citing Willi Stock. She must have been watching my flat for weeks. Haven’t you any control over the woman? I do think, Helena, you are far too soft with that woman. She’s a beast. If there’s any more trouble I shall simply call the police, tell her that.’
‘Dear me. I haven’t seen Mrs Hogg for months. I am sorry, Caroline. Won’t you come round to lunch? I recommended Mrs Hogg for a job in a place at Streatham last autumn. I haven’t heard from her since. We’ve got a new sort of risotto, quite simple, and heaps to spare. Edwin won’t be in to lunch. Have you seen Laurence lately?’
‘You ought not to recommend Mrs Hogg for jobs. She’s quite vile.’
‘Oh, one tries to be charitable. I shall speak severely. Did she upset you seriously, Caroline?’
‘No, she did not. I mean, she did, yes. But it’s not what she says, it’s what she is.’
‘She’s not all there,’ said Helena.
Presently, Caroline sprayed the room with a preparation for eliminating germs and insects.
NINE
‘Wonderful to have a whole day unplanned,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s like a blank sheet of paper to be filled in according to inspiration.’
It was summer, on a day which Laurence described as absolutely perfect for a riverside picnic. They chose their spot and got the luncheon boxes out of the car. It was Laurence’s day off. Helena too had decided to have a day off.
‘I’ve been working so hard on the committees, and Edwin is in retreat — I should love a day in the country,’ she admitted when Laurence invited her to join them. ‘But I hate intruding. You and Caroline enjoy yourselves together, do.’
But she yielded easily when Caroline too insisted on her coming.
‘All right. But you two go ahead. I’ll join you before lunch, if you tell me where to find you.
They described the area where they intended to park on the banks of the Medway where it borders Kent and Sussex.
There they were at midday sunning themselves lusciously and keeping an intermittent look-out for Helena’s car.
She arrived at half past twelve, and they could see as she bumped down the track towards them that she had brought two people with her, a man beside her in the front and a woman with a black hat at the back.
The couple turned out to be the Baron and Mrs Hogg.
Helena, uncertain of her welcome, and unusually nervous, began immediately, ‘Such fun. Willi phoned me just after you’d left and d’you know what, he’s been meaning to come down here the first opportunity. He wants to look at an Abbey in these parts, don’t you, Willi? So I made him come. And I’ve brought poor Mrs Hogg, I made her come. It was a lovely ride, wasn’t it? Poor Georgina’s had neuralgia. She called round to the house by chance just after you’d left, so I made her come.’
‘A day in the country will do you a world of good, Georgina. We shan’t interfere with your plans, Laurence. We’ve brought extra lunch and you can go off by yourselves if you like while we sit in the sun.’
Helena looked a trifle shaky. While they prepared lunch she made the opportunity of a private word with Caroline, ‘I hope you don’t mind dreadfully, dear, about my bringing Georgina. She turned up so desolate, and there was I so obviously preparing the picnic basket. I asked her on impulse and of course she jumped to it — I was rather sorry afterwards, remembering how much you dislike her. Do try to ignore her and if she says anything funny to you just shake her off. I know how you feel about Georgina for I can’t bear the sight of her at times, but one tries to be charitable.—’
‘Don’t you think,’ Caroline said, ‘that you misconstrue charity?—’
‘Well, charity,’ said Helena, ‘begins at home. And Georgina has been part of our household.’
‘Mrs Hogg is not home,’ Caroline said.
‘Oh dear, I wish I hadn’t asked her to come. It was foolish of me, I’ve spoiled your day.’
‘The day isn’t over yet,’ said Caroline cordially, for the weather was glorious really.
‘But still I wish I hadn’t brought her, for another reason. Something happened on the way here, Caroline. It was disturbing.’ Caroline saw she was distressed.
‘Come over here and help me to take out the bottles,—’ Caroline said, ‘and tell me what happened.’
‘I gave Georgina a tablet for her neuralgia before we set off,’ Helena said, ‘and sat her comfortably at the back of the car. Before we were out of London I said over my shoulder, “Are you all right, Georgina?” She replied that she was feeling sleepy. I went on chatting to Willi and thought no more of Georgina at the back. I assumed she had fallen asleep for I could hear her breathing heavily.’
‘She snores,’ Caroline said. ‘I remember at St Philumena’s I could hear her snoring six doors away.’
‘Well, yes, she was snoring,’ Helena said. ‘And I thought the sleep would do her good. After a while she stopped snoring. I said to Willi, “She’s dead asleep.” Then Willi’s cigarette lighter gave out and he asked for some matches. I thought there were some at the back of the car, but I didn’t want to wake Georgina. So I pulled up. And when I turned to reach for the matches, I couldn’t see Georgina.’
‘Why, what had happened?’
‘She simply wasn’t there,’ Helena declared. ‘I said to Willi, “Heavens, where’s Georgina?” and Willi said, “My God! she’s gone!” Well, just as he said this, we saw Georgina again. She suddenly appeared before our eyes at the back of the car, sitting in the same position and blinking, as if she’d just then woken up. It was as if there’d been a black-out at the films. I would have thought I’d been dreaming the incident, but Willi apparently had the same experience. He said, “Where have you been, Mrs Hogg? You vanished, didn’t you?” She looked really surprised, she said, “I’ve been asleep, sir.”‘
‘It may have been some telepathic illusion shared by you and Willi,’ Caroline said. ‘I shouldn’t worry.
‘Maybe it was. I haven’t
had an opportunity to discuss this privately with Willi. It was a most strange affair; truly I wish I hadn’t brought Georgina. Sometimes I feel I can handle her, but at other times she seems to get the better of me.’
‘Maybe when she goes to sleep she disappears as a matter of course,—’ Caroline said with a dry laugh so that Helena would not take her too seriously.
‘What a gruesome idea. Well, I swear that she did apparently vanish. All I saw when I first looked round was the empty seat.’
‘Maybe she has no private life whatsoever,’ Caroline said, and she giggled to take the grim edge off her words.
‘Oh, she has no private life, poor soul,’ Helena agreed, meaning that the woman had no friends.
Mrs Hogg ate heartily at lunch. Caroline sat as far away from her as possible to avoid the sight of her large mouth chewing, and the memory of that sight, when at St Philumena’s, she had first observed Mrs Hogg sitting opposite to her at the refectory table, chew — pause —chew — pause. Mrs Hogg spoke little, but she was very much present.
After lunch, Caroline was stacking an empty food box in the boot of Helena’s car some distance from the rest of the party, when the Baron approached her.
‘Summer suits you, my Caroline,’ he said. ‘Your sun dress is charming. Green suits you, and you are plumper. I thought you a delightful picture at lunch, so secluded within your proud personality as you always seem to be and with such a watchful air.
Caroline appreciated flattery, the more so when it was plainly excessive and well laid on, for then she felt that the flatterer had really taken pains to please. So she smiled languidly and waited for the rest, not at all surprised that these remarks were a prelude to one of those ‘confidences’ which the Baron so greatly longed to make. For, since she had forbidden the subject of black magic, the Baron had been manifestly unhappy. She realized that he had chosen her as a repository for his secret enthusiasm because of that very edginess and snap with which she responded. If like his other friends, she could have been merely sociable about his esoteric interests, making a gay palaver of them — ‘Do describe the formula, Willi, for changing oneself into a fly. One could watch all one’s friends… . Suppose one got stuck in a pot of jam’ — if only she could have played buoyant and easy with the Baron, he never would have plagued her with his ‘confidences’.
Having lubricated the way with his opening speech he proceeded instantly, ‘I must tell you, Caroline, such a strange thing happened in the car as we came down. This woman, Mrs Hogg —’
Caroline tried to be pleasant ‘Helena has already told me of the incident. Obviously, Willi, you’ve been infecting Helena with your fancies. Obviously —’
‘I do assure you, Caroline, I have never discussed any occult subject with Helena. I am very careful in whom I confide these matters. There is no other way of accounting for the strange phenomenon in the car but to accept the fact that this woman Hogg is a witch.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Caroline said, ‘even if she did disappear. I think she’s too ignorant to be a witch.’ And she added, ‘Not that I believe in witches particularly.’
‘And I have made a curious discovery,’ the Baron continued relentlessly. ‘Don’t you see — this woman Hogg is, I am certain, the witch to whom Mervyn Hogarth was married. The facts meet together — he has been known to use the name Hogg, as I told you. My informants say he always used it in his younger days. This Georgina Hogg is his witch-wife.’
‘Nonsense. She’s an old servant of the Manders. I believe she married a cousin. She has a crippled son somewhere.’
‘Has she? — Then it is certain she is the one, the witch, the wife! It is her son who was cured a few months ago by Hogarth’s magic. It must be the same young man!’
‘Awfully far-fetched,’ Caroline said. ‘And, Willi, all this bores me.’ In fact it agitated her, as he could see. ‘That Hogarth crest,’ she was thinking, ‘on Eleanor’s cigarette case. Laurence identified it, the same as Mrs Hogg’s… .’ She decided to speak of this to Laurence later on.
Just then Helena shouted, ‘Caroline, will you fetch my book — I threw it in at the back of the boot with my little head cushion. Will you fetch that too?’
‘Hell!’ Caroline breathed.
It meant unloading the entire contents of the boot. The Baron helped Caroline to ease them out of the tiny space, while he talked as fast as he could, as if to get in as much as possible of his precious confidences in the next few moments.
‘It is the same young man,’ he said, ‘and you will see that I am right.’
‘You must be wrong,’ said Caroline, out of breath with the effort of shifting the boxes, old petrol cans, and other clutter. She was reminding herself that only the other day Helena had said, ‘Fancy, I told Mrs Hogg about that wonderful miracle that happened to the Hogarth boy. I thought it might give her some hope for her own son who’s a cripple. But do you know, she wouldn’t believe it was a miracle — she said if it had been a real miracle the young man would have become a Catholic. Unfortunately this Hogarth boy has gone off with some woman — a rich Theosophist, I understand. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told Georgina that bit.’
‘You must be wrong,—’ Caroline told the Baron. ‘Helena knows Georgina Hogg’s affairs. Ask Helena, she’ll confirm that Mrs Hogg has nothing to do with Hogarth.’ Again, she wondered about that crest.
‘Helena does not know,’ said the Baron. ‘And another thing, Caroline. So exciting, Caroline. I am going to see Mervyn Hogarth this afternoon. I have been informed that he is staying at an Abbey a few miles from this spot. Now why should he be staying at a religious house? He must be posing as a Catholic retreatant. I daresay that these are the means he uses for stealing the consecrated elements for use in the Black Mass. After all, he must get them from somewhere —’
Caroline caught his sleeve and nodded towards the hedgerow a few yards from where the car was parked. He looked in that direction. The black hat had just bobbed out of sight.
‘Mrs Hogg has been listening,’ Caroline said in a loud voice.
‘Did you call me, Miss Rose?’
Mrs Hogg came out of hiding as if she had never been in it. ‘Lovely round here,’ she said with her smile. ‘Did you call? I thought you called “Mrs Hogg”.’
Caroline walked away quickly, followed by the Baron, while Mrs Hogg made off along the towpath.
Caroline handed Helena the book. ‘It had slipped down at the very back,’ she said, ‘I had to move everything. I feel as exhausted as if I’d done a hard day’s work.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have — I thought Willi was doing all the heaving. Willi, why didn’t you do all the heaving?’
‘I did so, my Helena,’ said the Baron.
‘Mrs Hogg was bent behind the hedge listening to our conversation,’ Caroline said.
‘I take an oriental view of manual labour myself,’ said Laurence. He was stretched in the dappling shade of a tree.
‘She has nothing in her life,’ Helena said, ‘that’s her trouble. She always has been a nosey type. Simply because she hasn’t any life of her own. I’m sorry I brought her. I dread taking her back.’
Laurence gurgled. ‘I think that’s sweet.’ Helena had not told him of their creepy experience with Georgina that morning.
‘I’ve sent her off for a walk,—’ said Helena, looking round. ‘I wonder if she’ll be all right.’ Georgina was nowhere in sight.
‘Georgina is nowhere in sight,’ she said anxiously.
‘You’ve sent her off; well, she’s gone off,’ Laurence said. ‘Stop jittering. Relax. Read your book. There’s too much talking.’
‘Which way did she go?’ Helena said.
‘Downstream, by the towpath,’ said Caroline.
‘Silence,’ said Laurence. ‘Let nothing disturb thee,’ he chanted, ‘nothing affright thee, all things are passing… .
‘God never changeth,’ Helena continued, surprised that he had remembered the words.
The Baron was examin
ing a map. ‘I should be back just after four,’ he said. ‘Will that do?’
‘Perfectly,’ said Laurence. ‘Kindly depart.’
‘The Abbey is on the other side of the river,—’ said the Baron, ‘but there’s a bridge two miles down. I shall be back just after four.’
He set off with his jacket trailing over his arm. Lazily, they watched him until he was out of sight round a bend.
‘I wonder why he wants to see the Abbey,’ said Helena, ‘it isn’t an exceptional place, nothing architecturally speaking.’
‘He’s looking for a man he believes is staying at the Abbey. A man called Mervyn Hogarth,’ Caroline said deliberately.
Helena looked startled. ‘Mervyn Hogarth! Does Willi know him then?’
‘By hearsay,’ Caroline said.
‘That’s the father of the young man who was cured,—’ Helena said. ‘Has Mr Hogarth become a Catholic, I wonder?’
‘The Baron thinks,’ Caroline said, ‘that he is a magician. ‘The Baron believes that Mervyn Hogarth is the leader of a Black Mass circle and that he’s staying at the Abbey under the guise of a retreatant, but really on purpose to steal the consecrated Host.’