A Fairly Honourable Defeat (59 page)

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Authors: Iris Murdoch

BOOK: A Fairly Honourable Defeat
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‘What were your reactions to all this?’
‘I was horrified,’ said Simon. ‘I said I’d tell you, I’d tell everyone. ’
‘And why didn’t you?’
‘Because Julius said that if I did he’d make you believe that I’d been making advances to him.’
‘And had you been making advances to him?’
‘No!’
Axel was silent for a moment. Then he started the car. He said, ‘I think I’ll drive us home. Just go on talking.’
‘I now think I was mad,’ said Simon, ‘but at the time I didn’t feel I had any alternative. I was so damned frightened of Julius. He threatened to break things up between you and me. And I somehow felt that he could. Not that he could do anything to my faith in you. But he could do things to your faith in me, he could make you see me as—something worthless—a sort of slut—or so I felt.’
Axel said nothing.
‘Well, that’s the main part of the story, the rest is just consequences. On your birthday—I had nothing to do with that ghastly bear, by the way, that was entirely Julius’s idea—on your birthday he would stare and whisper and he touched me when you were out of the room and then he dropped that hint at the end about my having been to see him. I think he did it on purpose to make you imagine there was something going on.’
‘And was there something going on?’
‘No, no, no! I’m telling you the whole story, the
whole
story! Then I didn’t see him again after that until this evening when he talked to me in the swimming pool after you’d all gone in. He kept pushing me back into the water when I tried to get out. He asked me if I’d said anything to you and I said I hadn’t and he said that’s just as well and if I did he would give you a circumstantial account of how he and I had had what he called a romance!’
‘And after that you pushed him into the pool?’
‘Yes.’
‘One thing. What was the date when Julius came to the museum, when he made you spy on Rupert and Morgan?’
Simon reflected. ‘I think it was a Tuesday. Yes, three weeks ago next Tuesday.’
The car stopped outside the door of their house and Axel got out. Simon followed him as he fumbled with the front door key, went in and went on upstairs to the drawing room. Simon came on into the drawing room and shut the door. Then suddenly he felt weak at the knees. In the car, the narrative itself had carried him, the deep surrendering sense of telling the truth at last. Now standing in the enclosed darkening room he felt very much afraid.
‘And what about Rupert and Morgan?’
‘What about—oh I don’t know,’ said Simon. ‘I’ve no idea what’s happened to them.’
‘You mean you didn’t bother to think or to try to find out from Julius?’
‘No. Maybe I should have done. I was worried about them. But I was in no position to find out things from Julius. I wanted to avoid Julius. And just lately I’ve been very much more worried about you.’
‘Haven’t you been seeing Morgan?’
‘No. I haven’t seen Morgan since that day when she was here and you came home and—found us—that day.’
There was silence. Axel looked out of the window. Simon could not see his face. After a little while Axel moved to switch on a lamp. He began to draw the curtains.
‘Axel, you do believe me, don’t you? You do believe all this? I know I’ve been very stupid. But there isn’t anything else, there isn’t anything else at all.’
Silence.
‘Axel—’
‘Come over here a moment.’
Simon came and faced him.
‘Yes, I believe you.’
‘Oh God—’ said Simon.
‘No demonstrations please, dear boy. Sit down. Let’s have some gin, we need it. Here.’
‘Do you blame me terribly?’ said Simon. He was feeling limp with joy. He tried to control his face and his voice. He would be quiet, dignified, sober, all that Axel would wish him to be. But whatever came next, he was home and safe.
‘Of course I blame you. That you might be thoroughly confused by Julius or even frightened of him I can understand. But I can’t see how you could have gone on lying and mystifying me when you saw how bloody miserable it was making me.’
‘Miserable—?’ said Simon. They were sitting close to each other now drinking gin. He had been miserable. Axel had been fierce, dangerous, terrible.
‘I think I got into such a state of guilty terror worrying about myself. I just didn’t see what was happening to you. I thought how angry you would be with me. I thought how Julius might make you see me differently. I didn’t think you were miserable.’
‘Then you were damn stupid.’
‘Yes. I was. I see it now.’
‘As for seeing you differently, it isn’t as if you had a halo to lose. I’ve known the worst for years, you little fool. And can you really have imagined that Julius could make me believe something entirely untrue about you? Think, Simon! I believe you now because you’re telling the truth and this is completely and absolutely evident—just as it was evident before that you were lying. Julius couldn’t have duped me and I doubt if he ever even intended to try.’
‘No, I suppose not. The trouble was that as soon as I started lying I felt so guilty that I imagined Julius could hang anything round my neck.’
‘Precisely. Julius is very clever. You did all the work of deception! I thought I’d lost you.’
‘Axel, you can’t have done—’
‘I was stupid too. And I blame myself. You oughtn’t to have been so afraid of me.’
‘I always have been and I thought it didn’t matter, it was just a sort of thrill. But when it got mixed up with deceiving you it was nightmarish. Then everything mounted up and mounted up and it got harder and harder to tell the truth. It was only—what you said in the car really, when we were going to Rupert’s—and then somehow Julius not letting me get out of the pool—it suddenly made me feel that anything was better than going on in that sort of hell!’
‘A pity you didn’t come to that conclusion a bit earlier!’
‘Axel, you weren’t really going to leave me?’
After a moment Axel said, ‘I don’t know. I did absolutely believe that you were having some sort of love affair with Julius. I’d imagined it all into existence with all the details and everything seemed to fit. Have you ever noticed that Julius wears a particular sort of rather expensive American aftershave lotion?’
‘No, not specially.’
‘Well, once you came home absolutely reeking of it, and then when I asked about your day at the museum you were rather evasive. I didn’t draw any conclusions at the time, but later it seemed pretty damning evidence.’
‘Good God, that must have been—’
‘Yes, that was the day when you and Julius were sitting together behind the arras!’
‘He sat very close to me. He even took my hand. Oh Axel—’
‘It’s all right, I don’t mind Julius having taken your hand. Now. Actually it’s all rather in character. I knew Julius to do something like this once before, mystify people and make them act parts. Never mind.’
‘I knew you suspected something. But if you really thought I was carrying on with Julius I’m surprised you didn’t—’
‘And you didn’t think I was suffering! I was nerving myself to throw you out! It just turned out to be very very very difficult.’
Simon took this in. He looked up at the ceiling. ‘More gin, Axel?’
‘Thanks. I wonder about Rupert and Morgan and whether there’s anything we ought to do.’
Simon considered this for the first time. ‘It’s a bit difficult without knowing whether anything’s happened. Honestly, I don’t even know whether Julius was speaking the truth. I heard them talking to each other of course—Do you think we ought to see Julius and make him explain it all?’
Axel was thoughtful. ‘I can’t help wondering how he did it. If he did it. But I don’t think I very much want to see Julius just at the moment.’
‘Me neither!’
‘You haven’t any further evidence at all?’
‘No, none. Had you noticed anything unusual?’
‘No, nothing. Well, Rupert was a bit nervy. I had my own troubles.’
‘Hilda was rather on edge tonight.’
‘I think we’d better let that one drift,’ said Axel. ‘If there’s any obvious drama we might consider dropping a word to somebody, but even then it’s rather tricky. One doesn’t want to be indiscreet and raise a false alarm. If there’s no muddle then all’s well. If there is a muddle we aren’t likely to be able to understand it anyway and our helpful revelations might just make things worse. It’s probably better to let them sort it out for themselves.’
‘I entirely agree!’ cried Simon. ‘Let it drift. It isn’t anything to do with us really, is it? Oh Axel, my darling! Axel, Axel, Axel—’
‘All right, dear boy. All right, all right, all right!’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
 
‘OH HELLO.’
‘Am I disturbing you?’ said Julius.
‘No,’ said Tallis. ‘Come in.’
Julius walked after him into the kitchen, stepping cautiously. The newspaper which Tallis had laid down on the floor was still there, now entirely black and slightly rubbery in texture. Tallis took some dirty plates off the chairs and put them under the sink.
‘What are you doing?’ said Julius, looking at the table.
‘Addressing envelopes.’
‘Isn’t that a waste of your intellectual powers?’
‘Someone’s got to do it. Anyway I haven’t got any intellectual powers. Sit down.’
‘Thank you.’
One end of the table was covered with a disorderly heap of brown envelopes, some of them plain, some of them addressed in Tallis’s large hand. The other end of the table was piled with books and notebooks, on top of which lay a screwed up copy of the
New Statesman
in which some bony remnants of kippers had been unsuccessfully wrapped. Tallis removed the kippers and put them on the floor.
‘Have some tea?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Beer?’
‘No, thank you. How is your hand, by the way?’
‘Hand?’
‘You remember you cut your hand last time I was here.’
‘Oh yes. I put some sticking plaster on it. I’d forgotten all about it. It’s still on. Must be O.K.’
‘Hadn’t you better take the sticking plaster off,’ said Julius, ‘and see what’s going on underneath it? Come here. Let me look. I’m going to pull it off. May hurt.’
Julius ripped off the plaster.
‘Ouch!’
Tallis stood patiently and looked vaguely out of the window while Julius examined his hand. The cut had almost healed. The skin about it was pocked and puckered and slightly paler than its surroundings.
‘Better leave it uncovered now,’ said Julius. ‘Let the air get at it. You might try washing your hands occasionally. An old fashioned device, but quite effective.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Not a criticism. I am thinking of your welfare.’
Tallis went and sat at the other end of the table among the envelopes. He put his head down on the table and then raised it again. He saw Julius through a haze of tiredness and gloom. Julius was wearing a navy blue polo-necked sweater and a jacket of soft grey tweed. He looked relaxed and youthful. The kitchen was rather cold, lit by weak reflected late evening sunlight. A watery ray had even managed to find its way between two walls to cast a triangle of clarity upon the wooden draining board, showing the ragged rotting wood at the end and the green filaments of the mould which had covered the contents of a white porcelain bowl. Things which had been jerking about on the dresser became still. Tallis began to rub his eyes and then to poke his fingers into his ears. His eyes itched. His ears itched deep into their cavities and on down into his throat. The roof of his mouth itched and there was a small inflammation on his tongue.
‘What?’
‘I said you ought to clean this place up. It can’t be good for your health.’
‘Haven’t time,’ said Tallis.
‘Then you must make time. All this ridiculous activity isn’t necessary. You just do all these things to stop yourself from thinking.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You ought to get some sensible person to help you clear up all this mess. Why don’t you get in touch with the local Samaritans?’
‘I am the local Samaritans.’
‘Oh. How’s your father?’
‘All right. I mean much the same.’
‘Have you told him?’
‘No,’ said Tallis. He stopped poking into his ears. He gave a long sigh. ‘I think you were quite right to say I ought to. The truth belongs to him. He is a person who could even
do
something with it. But it’s so damned hard. There doesn’t seem to be any moment which is better than any other moment to tell him. It seems so arbitrary, at any particular instant of time, to change the world to that degree. And he’s a bit better just now. The pain’s less and he’s quite optimistic. He’s got out of bed. In fact he’s out at this moment feeding the pigeons.’

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