The Sacred and Profane Love Machine (29 page)

The Hood House drawing-room, a long narrow three-windowed room occupying the side of the house, had a bare bony look as of hallowed ivory, with its white walls adorned only by a quartet of water-colours and an oval mirror with a white porcelain frame. The room, a project of Blaise’s, had somehow never been completed and was not frequently used. The thick yellowish Indian carpet left by the previous occupier had not yet, owing to disagreements between Blaise and Harriet about its successor, been replaced, and the furniture had at the best of times a tendency to recede to the walls. Upon the unprotected central area the company were now standing in an awkward ring like people who, at the blowing of a whistle or the striking up of music, would initiate some game or strenuous dance. Blaise, breathing rapidly and audibly, kept smiling a tremulous fading and returning smile and looking from one to the other of the women, distributing bis attention, Monty noticed, equally between all three.

Conversation, not difficult though a little distraught, had concerned the theatre.

‘The theatre is so artificial,’ said Harriet.

‘Don’t you like Shakespeare?’ said Emily.

‘To read yes, but on the stage it’s just tricks.’

‘I can’t think why people go,’ said Monty. ‘It seems to me a waste of an evening which might be spent in conversation.’

‘Quite so,’ said Blaise, ‘quite so.’

‘You’re not serious, Monty?’ said Pinn.

‘I adore the theatre,’ said Emily. ‘It takes you out of yourself. I love those great glittering images that you remember for ever. But when can I ever get to the theatre with dear little Luca around?’

‘You could take him,’ said Harriet.

‘He’d hate it.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He’d hate it.’

‘You found someone to stay with him this evening.’

‘Pinn did. Some school kid. Who did you get, Pinn?’

‘Kiki St Loy.’

‘What a pretty name,’ said Harriet.

‘You said you’d get Jenny. You never said Kiki.’

‘Jenny couldn’t make it.’

‘Blaise could take you to the theatre sometimes,’ said Harriet. ‘I’d look after Luca.’

‘You’re kidding! Do a show. Well why not? Years since we did a show. Blaise is crazy about the theatre, aren’t you, Blaise!’

‘Yes, absolutely,’ said Blaise.

‘What a wet blanket I’ve evidently been!’ said Harriet laughing.

‘But
are
you serious?’ said Pinn to Monty.

‘What about?’

‘About thinking plays a waste of time.’

‘The only great plays are in poetry, and I agree with Harriet I’d rather read them.’

‘Surely there are some good plays in prose?’

‘I don’t know. I never go to the theatre.’

‘Then aren’t you talking nonsense since you can’t judge?’

‘I don’t claim to be right. I only claim to be serious.’

‘You are a cynic ! Is it true your mother was an actress?’

‘Unsuccessfully. She taught voice production in a school.’

‘I wish someone would teach me to produce my voice,’ said Emily.

‘You have a very nice voice,’ said Harriet.

‘I mean my accent. Blaise professes to like my accent.’

‘I like it very much.’

‘So you admit I have one? Thanks a lot!’

‘Would you turn the lights on, Blaise, it’s suddenly got so dark,’ said Harriet.

‘I used to want to be an actress,’ said Pinn to Monty. ‘I’ve written this play. Would you read it?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to sit down, Harriet?’ said Monty.

‘No – I think – standing is – better.’

‘Why are the dogs yapping so?’ said Emily. ‘It’s like a bloody wolf pack.’

‘You could criticize it as harshly as you like, I’d want to know what you really thought.’

‘There’s someone at the garden door,‘ said Monty. ‘It must be -’

‘It’s David!’ cried Harriet. But instead of following Monty into the kitchen she went to the side of the room and sat down. The dogs continued in a frenzy.

Monty went through into the kitchen followed by Blaise. A figure just entering from the garden turned out to be Edgar. The hysterical barking was shut out by the closing door. Monty saw with surprise that the garden was darker, though the clouded sun still attempting to shine had given the scene the bedimmed vividness of a picture by Vermeer.

Edgar’s bulky figure seemed to tilt. Then he reached the table, leaning there with his hands fiat upon the red cloth. It was apparent to Monty, and also evidently to Blaise, that Edgar was very drunk.

‘You deal, will you,’ said Blaise, and was gone back to the drawing-room.

‘Why come this way?’ said Monty. ‘Oh, I see, you came over the fence. You are a damn fool. And you’re drunk. You’d better sit down.’

‘I wanted to see – Harriet,’ said Edgar, very carefully and clearly, rather loudly. ‘I have something – to tell her.’

‘Sit down. You’ve torn your jacket. And you’re filthy. You must have fallen.’

Edgar stared down intently at a long tear reaching from his jacket pocket to the hem. The pocket sagged, showing its lining. Edgar’s trouser leg was thickly encrusted with earth. ‘Yes, I think I fell. I must have. I’ve got to see Harriet. No, I will not sit down.’

‘Is David coming?’

‘No. Oh he cried so. And now – I’m just going to —’

With a surprising turn of speed Edgar lurched past Monty and on into the drawing-room where there was already an expectant silence. He stopped in front of Harriet, who was sitting against the wall. ‘Oh – Edgar- said Harriet rather faintly, trying to smile. Emily giggled. Pinn said ‘Ha!’ Blaise smiled malignantly and poured himself another drink.

‘Your son,’ said Edgar swaying and exclusively addressing Harriet, ‘has been in Monty’s house for some time crying his eyes out.’

‘I’ll go to him at once,’ said Harriet, but without rising. Edgar’s bloodshot eyes and slightly dribbling lower lip seemed to hold her fascinated.

‘Better not,’ said Monty. ‘Edgar, you come with me, there’s a good fellow.’

‘That
however?’
Edgar went on. ‘That
however
was
not
what I came here to
say.
I have come, Harriet, to offer you my protection.’

‘Really!’ said Blaise.

‘I have a house, Monty knows it well, a beautiful house called Mockingham, which I offer to you, to be of service, myself being absent, my housekeeper would, I think you should withdraw, into a kind of retreat, some kind of austerity, so as not to condone, there are things one cannot, without involving a falsity, some new wrong done, I must testify, I must testify —’

‘I don’t think you should testify,’ said Monty. ‘I think you should come home with me.’

‘Offer you, as I say, my protection, not meaning by this anything, a household has been dishonoured, it is not so simple to decide, how to treat this awful thing —’

‘No one has suggested that it is simple,’ said Blaise, who was evidently fairly drunk himself.

‘Who is this comical man, please?’ said Pinn.

‘Don’t answer him,’ said Monty to Blaise. ‘He’ll stop in a minute and I’ll remove him.’

‘Dear Edgar -’ said Harriet.

‘Don’t Dear Edgar me, you would have been kinder to me if you had not been so kind, I too have emotions, I too have needs, I am flesh and blood am I not, you let me hold your hand, of course you laughed at me, I can be laughed at, beautiful women have laughed at me –’

‘He’s rather fun, isn’t he,’ said Emily.

‘He promised to forsake all others —’

‘Naturally,’ said Blaise, ‘I value your observations and your advice, and I’m sure it’s very charming of you to come here and hold my wife’s hand and offer her your protection, whatever that means -’

‘Stop drivelling, Edgar,’ said Monty, ‘come with me.’ He tried to take Edgar’s arm, but was shaken off. Harriet made a holding gesture.

‘Because you are good you think that you can save them, but it is they who will defile you. You must not assent to what is wrong, that is not what the Gospel requires. You are a believer in Christian marriage. One must be in the truth and you are not. You must come away so that he can see what he has done. As it is he sees nothing. This is a lie, this man’s lie, and he must live it and undo it. But you have put him in a position where he cannot stop lying. No one here, not even you, is good enough to redeem this thing. They will not tolerate your forgiveness, in the end they will hate you for it, they will go on intriguing as they have always done, they will not even be able to help it, and you will find too late that you have not been a healer but an accomplice of evil. He must decide, he must choose, that is where he has put himself. He has not acknowledged his fault, he is continuing in it, and you will be eternally his victim, abandoning him to wicked ways and conniving at his sin. For his sake you must not allow this foul thing to continue.’

‘Oh come, come, come!’ said Pinn.

‘Thanks for the message,’ said Emily.

Harriet said, ‘Edgar, I am listening to you. But there is a little boy in the case.’

‘Could you remove your friend?’ said Blaise to Monty.

‘No, I will not go. I must testify. I haven’t said it clearly yet and I must say it
clearly.
Harriet,
listen.
Don’t you see that you are putting him in a situation where he simply can’t help lying to you? You have not required the truth of him. You must require him to decide. Vague tolerant pity is not true kindness here. You are trying to spare yourself —’

‘We’ve all had enough of you,’ said Blaise, putting his glass down and coming forward. ‘Just shut up now, will you. Monty, for God’s sake do something, take his other arm, or does this amuse you?’

‘Please!’ cried Harriet.

Blaise seized hold of Edgar, but Edgar with some violence pulled up his arm to defend himself and hit Blaise smartly in the eye with his elbow. Blaise subsided on to the floor. Harriet screamed. Emily ran to Blaise. Monty rushed to Edgar who was still vaguely flailing about with his arms, looking for Blaise who had so suddenly disappeared from his field of vision. With a robust though inexpert version of a blow used by Milo, Monty struck Edgar on the neck with the side of his hand. Edgar too subsided on to the floor with a crash.

‘Quick, get him out,’ said Monty. In a second Pinn was with him and they had somehow got Edgar upright and were propelling him towards the front door. ‘Harriet – Harriet – Mockingham -’ Edgar was crying out, like someone uttering a battle cry.

Once outside the front door they were suddenly in a different world. The clouded sun was already announcing twilight. A blackbird, bright as a toy amid the motionless swirl of the leaves, was singing in a tall snaky birch tree. He sang against silence. Mrs Raines-Bloxham passing by slowly to her house looked with curiosity at the emergent trio. She had always expected irregularities from a psychiatrist’s residence. Edgar had fallen silent and was allowing himself to be propelled along by the other two. At the gate, watched by Mrs Raines-Bloxham, riveted now on her front door step, he gripped the gate-post and stopped.

‘Come on, Edgar, there’s a dear fellow.’

‘I’m sorry,‘ said Edgar. ‘I’m drunk. There was no need to hit me though.’

‘Sorry. Come along now.’

More slowly they resumed their procession. They turned the corner. Mrs Raines-Bloxham entered her house.

When they got to the door of Locketts Monty said to Pinn, ‘Thank you very much. I can manage now.’

Edgar lurched on by himself through the doorway. Pinn stood her ground. She said, ‘Let me come in. Please.’

‘Sorry,’ said Monty.

‘Please.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Why not?’

Monty stared at her for another moment, then went inside and slammed the door.

Edgar had lurched on into the little drawing-room. He sat down abruptly in one of the wickerwork chairs, smashing one of its arms with a rending sound. He was murmuring something to himself, ‘Down in deep dark ditch sat an old cow chewing a beanstalk.’

Monty went slowly into the rather murky room. One of the shutters which had been closed against the sun was still across darkening the scene. He went over mechanically and pushed it and closed the window. Almost at his feet was David, sitting on the floor, his head pillowed against the purple sofa, fast asleep. At the same moment a snore announced that Edgar was asleep too.

Monty squatted down beside David and examined him carefully. The swollen reddened eyelids betokened the weeping spoken of by Edgar. The lips were slightly parted to show a glitter of teeth, and the ‘archaic smile’ was shadowily present, though a little downward droop at the corners had changed it into a rather tearful smile. The light golden hair was tangled, drawn forward over the brow perhaps by the distraught hand, which now lay open, palm upward, upon the sofa, as if imploring. The other hand was clenched upon the knee, the shoulder exposed. Suiting his breathing quietly to that of the sleeping boy, Monty slowly knelt, and then leaned forward to rest his head lightly upon David’s shoulder, letting his body relax slowly. The boy’s jacket was still damp with tears. In the darkening room Monty lay there open-eyed and gained, amid terrible thoughts, some kind of consolation.

Meanwhile in the Hood House drawing-room. The silence after Edgar’s removal was broken by Harriet’s weeping. The shedding of tears is of course not simply the semi-automatic discharge of water from the eyes, it is usually an action with a purpose, a contribution even to a conversation. Harriet wept now with a physical relief at being decently able to weep instead of having to be polite, and as an indication to whom it might concern that for the present she had had enough. She had tried very hard to be good and act rightly, this little party which had ended so disastrously was itself one of her right acts. Now there must be, she vaguely supposed, some sort of new phase. She had certainly done her- best And with a vague prophetic shudder, she felt a little as governments or as princes feel who, to placate opinion or to clarify their position, act with ostentatious tolerance towards some opposition group who, if they then misbehave, can be more firmly dealt with with impunity. Yet this was also, for her state of mind, too powerful and too conscious an image. It was psychologically necessary to Harriet to feel that she had played a good, even an absurdly good, part. But she was aware enough to know that the sheer awfulness of the situation had an impetus of its own which was beyond her will and beyond the will of others too.