The Black Prince (Penguin Classics) (22 page)

‘Oh God, Priscilla, do stop.’

‛You only want me to stop crying.’

‛All right, I only want you to stop crying.
Stop crying
.’

She lay back in the big ‛Hartbourne’ armchair and in fact stopped. Her hair was in ugly disorder, the darkened parting zigzagging across her head. She lay back limply, gracelessly, with her legs spread and her mouth open. There was a hole in her stocking at the knee through which pink spotty flesh bulged in a little mound.

‘Oh Priscilla, I am so sorry.’

‘Yes. Be sorry. Bradley, I think you’re right. I’d better go back to Roger.’

‛Priscilla, you
can’t
– ’

‘Why not? Have you changed your mind? You were saying so much I should go back. You said he was so unhappy and the house was so awful. He needs me, I suppose. And it is my home. Nowhere else is. Perhaps he’ll be nicer to me now. Bradley, I think I’m going mad, I’m going out of my mind. What’s it like when people go mad, does one know one’s going mad?’

‘Of course you aren’t going mad.’

‛ I think I’ll go to bed if you don’t mind.’

‛I’m sorry, I still haven’t made up the spare bed.’

‛Bradley, your cabinet looks different, something’s gone. Where have you put the water buffalo lady?’

‘The water buffalo lady?’ I looked at the gaping empty space. ‘Oh yes. I gave her away. I gave her to Julian Baffin.’

‘Oh Bradley, how
could
you, she was
mine
, she was
mine
.’ Priscilla gave a little moan and the tears began to flow again. She started to fumble vainly in her bag looking for a handkerchief.

I remembered that technically speaking she was quite right. I had given the water buffalo lady to Priscilla years and years ago for her birthday, but finding the pretty thing once put away in a drawer had reappropriated it. ‘Oh dear!’ I felt the blush upon which Rachel had remarked.

‘You couldn’t even keep that for me.’

‘I’ll get it back.’

‘I only let you take her because I knew I could visit her here. I liked visiting her here. She had her place here.’

‘I’m terribly sorry – ’

‘I’ll never get my jewels and now even she’s gone, my last little thing gone.’

‘Please, Priscilla, I really will – ’

‘You gave her to that wretched girl.’

‘She asked for it. I
will
get it back, please don’t worry. Now please go to bed and rest.’

‘She was mine, you gave her to me.’

‘I know, I know, I’ll get it back, now come on, you can have my bed.’

Priscilla trailed into the bedroom. She got straight into the bed.

‘Don’t you want to undress?’

‘What’s the point. What’s the point of anything. I’d be better dead.’

‘Oh buck up, Priscilla. I’m glad you’ve come back though. Why did you leave the other place?’

‘Arnold made a pass at me.’

‘Oh!’

‘I pushed him away and he turned nasty. He must have told Christian about it. They were downstairs laughing and laughing and laughing. They must have been laughing at me.’

‘I don’t suppose they were. They were just happy.’

‘Well, I hated it, I hated it.’

‘Was Arnold there in the afternoon?’

‘Oh yes, he came straight back after you’d left, he was there nearly all day, they made a huge lunch downstairs, I could smell it, I didn’t want any, and I heard them laughing all the time. They didn’t want me, they left me alone nearly all day.’

‘Poor Priscilla.’

‘I can’t stand that man. And I can’t stand her either. They didn’t really want me there at all, they didn’t care about me really to help me, it was just part of a game, it was like a joke.’

‘You’re right there.’

‘They were just playing with me and triumphing and showing off. I hate them. I feel half dead. I feel as if I’m sort of bleeding inwardly. Do you think I’m going mad?’

‘No.’

‘She said a doctor was coming but he didn’t come. I feel terrible, I think I’ve got cancer. Everyone despises me, everyone knows what’s happened to me. Bradley, could you ring up Roger?’

‘Oh no, please – ’

‘I’ll have to go back to Roger. I could see Dr Macey at home. Or else I’ll kill myself. I think I’ll kill myself. No one will care.’

‘Priscilla, do get properly undressed. Or else get up and comb your hair. I can’t bear to see you lying dressed in bed.’

‘Oh what does it matter, what does it matter.’

The front door bell rang again. I ran to open it. Francis Marloe was outside, his little eyes screwed up with ingratiating humility. ’Oh Brad, you must forgive me for coming – ’

‘Come in,’ I said. ‘You offered to nurse my sister. Well, she’s here and you’re engaged.’

‘Really? Oh goodie, goodie!’

‘You can go in and nurse her now, she’s in there. Can you give her a sedative?’

‘I always carry – ’

‘All right, go on.’ I picked up the telephone and dialled Rachel’s number. ‘Hello, Rachel.’

‘Oh – Bradley – ’

I knew at once from her voice that she was alone. A woman can put so much into the way she says your name.

‘Rachel. Thanks for your sweet letter.’

‘Bradley – can I see you – soon – at once – ?’

‘Rachel, listen. Priscilla’s come back and Francis Marloe is here. Listen. I gave Julian a water buffalo with a lady on it.’

‘A what?’

‘A little bronze thing.’

‘Oh. Did you?’

‘Yes. She asked for it, here, you remember.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Well, it’s really Priscilla’s only I forgot and she wants it back. Could you get it off Julian, and bring it round, or send her? Tell her I’m very sorry – ’

‘She’s out, but I’ll find it. I’ll bring it at once.’

‘The place is full of people. We won’t be – ’

‘Yes, yes. I’ll come.’

 

 

‘He cut down my magnolia tree,’ Priscilla was saying. ‘He said it shaded the flower bed. The garden was always
his
garden. The house was
his
house. Even the kitchen was
his
kitchen. I’ve given my whole
life
to that man. I haven’t
got
anything else.’

‘The human lot is sad and awful,’ murmured Francis. ‘We are demons to each other. Yes, demons.’ He was looking pleased, pursing up his red lips and casting delighted coy glances at me with his little eyes.

‘Priscilla, let me comb your hair.’

‘No, I can’t bear to be touched, I feel as if I were a leper, I feel my flesh is rotting, I’m sure I smell – ’

‘Priscilla, do take your skirt off, it must be getting so crumpled.’

‘What does it matter, what does anything matter, oh I am so unhappy.’

‘At least take your
shoes
off.’

‘Sad and awful, sad and awful. Demons. Demons. Yes.’

‘Priscilla, do try to relax, you’re as rigid as a corpse.’

‘I wish I was a corpse.’

‘Do at least make an effort to be comfortable!’

‘I gave him my life. I haven’t got another one. A woman has nothing else.’

‘Fruitless and bootless. Fruitless and bootless.’

‘Oh I’m so
frightened
– ’

‘Priscilla, there’s nothing to be frightened of. Oh God, you are getting me down!’

‘Frightened.’

‘Do please take your shoes off.’

The front door bell rang. I opened the door to Rachel and was making her a rueful face when I saw that Julian was standing just behind her.

Rachel was wearing a light green rather military-looking macintosh. She had her hands in her pockets and her face, directed at me, communicating privately, blazed with a sort of euphoric purpose. The immediate eye to eye communication showed me how far we had moved even since our last meeting. One does not usually look deep into people’s eyes. There was a pleasant shock. Julian was wearing a tawny corduroy jacket and trousers and a brown and gold Indian scarf. She looked raffish, but had put on a self-consciously humble young person’s expression, the kind of expression which says: I know I’m the youngest person and very inexperienced and unimportant but I shall do my best to be helpful and it is very kind of you to pay any attention to me at all. This attitude is of course a special kind of vanity. The young are self – satisfied really and utterly ruthless. I saw that she was carrying the water buffalo and a large bouquet of irises.

Rachel said meaningfully, ‘Julian arrived back and insisted on bringing the thing along herself.’

Julian said, ‘Of course I’m
very
glad to bring it back to Priscilla, of course it’s hers and she must have it. I do so hope it will make her feel happier and better.’

I let them in and ushered them into the bedroom where Priscilla was still talking to Francis. ‘He had no idea of equality between us, I suppose no man has, they all despise women – ’

‘Men are terrible, terrible – ’

‘Visitors, Priscilla!’

Priscilla, her shoes humping the edge of the quilt, was propped up on several pillows. Her eyes were red and swollen with crying, and her mouth was rectangular with complaint, like the mouth of a letter box.

Julian went directly and sat on the bed. She laid the irises down reverently beside Priscilla and then pushed the water buffalo lady along the coverlet, as if she was amusing a child, and thrust it up against Priscilla’s blouse, in the hollow between her breasts. Priscilla, now knowing what the thing was, and looking terrified, gave a little cry of aversion. Julian then took it into her head to kiss her and made a dive at her cheek. Their two chins collided with a click.

I said soothingly, ‘There you are, Priscilla. There’s your water buffalo lady. She came back home to you after all.’

Julian had retreated to the bottom of the bed. She stared at Priscilla with a look of agonized and still rather self – conscious pity. She opened her lips and put her hands together as if praying. It looked as if she were begging Priscilla’s pardon for being young and good – looking and innocent and unspoilt and having a future, while Priscilla was old and ugly and sinful and wrecked and had none. The contrast between them went through the room like a spasm of pain.

I felt the pain, I felt my sister’s anguish, I said, ‘
And
lovely flowers for you, Priscilla.
Aren’t
you a lucky girl.’

Priscilla murmured, ’I’m not a child. You needn’t all be so – sorry for me. You needn’t all stare at me – and treat me as if I were a – ’

She fumbled for the water buffalo and for a moment it looked as if she were going to fondle it. Then she threw it from her across the room where it crashed against the wainscot. Her tears began again and she buried her face in the pillow. The irises fell to the floor. Francis, who had picked up the bronze, hid it within his hands and smiled. I motioned Rachel and Julian out of the room.

In the sitting – room Julian said, ‘I’m terribly sorry.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I told her.

‘It must be so awful to be like that.’

‘You can’t imagine,’ I said, ’what it is to be like that. So don’t bother to try.’

‘I’m so awfully sorry for her.’

Rachel said, ‘You run along now.’

Julian said, ‘Oh I do wish – Ah well – ’ She went to the door. Then she said to me, ‘Bradley, could I have just a word with you? Could you just walk with me to the corner. I won’t keep you more than a moment.’

I gave a complicit wave to Rachel and followed the child out of the house. She walked confidently down the court and into Charlotte Street without looking round. The cold sun was shining brightly and I felt a great sense of relief at being suddenly out in the open among busy indifferent anonymous people under a blue clean sky.

We walked a few steps along the street and stopped beside a red telephone box. Julian now wore a rather jaunty boyish air. She was clearly feeling relieved too. Above her, behind her, I saw the Post Office Tower, and it was as if I myself were as high as the tower, so closely and so clearly could I see all its glittering silver details. I was tall and erect: so good was it for that moment to be outside the house, away from Priscilla’s red eyes and duller hair, to be for a moment with someone who was young and good – looking and innocent and unspoilt and who had a future.

Julian said with a responsible air, ‘Bradley, I’m very sorry I got that all wrong.’

‘Nobody could have got it right. Real misery cuts off all paths to itself.’

‘How well you put it! But a saintly person could have comforted her.’

‘There aren’t any, Julian. Anyway, you’re too young to be a saint.’

‘I know I’m stupidly young. Oh dear, old age is so awful, poor Priscilla. Look, Bradley, what I wanted to say was just thank you so much for that letter. I think it’s the most wonderful letter that anybody ever wrote to me.’

‘What letter?’

‘That letter about art, about art and truth.’

‘Oh that. Yes.’

‘I regard you as my teacher.’

‘Kind of you, but – ’

‘I want you to give me a reading list, a larger one.’

‘Thank you for bringing the water buffalo back. I’ll give you something else instead.’

‘Oh will you, please? Anything will do, any little thing. I’d so like to have something from you, I think it would inspire me, something that’s been with you a long time, something that you’ve handled a lot.’

I was rather touched by this. ‘I’ll look out something. And now I’d better – ’

‘Bradley, don’t go. We hardly ever talk. Well, I know we can’t now, but do let’s meet again soon, I want to talk to you about
Hamlet
.’

‘
Hamlet!
Oh all right, but – ’

‘I have to do it in my exam. And Bradley, I say, I did agree with that review you wrote about my father’s work.’

‘How did you see that review?’

‘I saw my mother putting it away, and she looked so secretive – ’