Jackson's Dilemma (25 page)

‘Oh no, you won’t! I’ll get rid of the taxi, just sit down in that chair.’

Jackson sat down. He closed his eyes. Owen paid the taxi and returned and shut the door.

‘Now get up and we’ll go and sit in the drawing room and you’ll tell me
everything.
Lean on my arm.’

Jackson had, he was sure, not intended to stay with Owen longer than was necessary to leave the luggage. But the thought of ‘sitting down’ overcame him and he weakened, feeling that at any moment he might fall down and go to sleep. He followed Owen into the drawing room. They stood opposite to each other. Jackson reached out one hand to hold the edge of the marble fireplace.

‘You look dead beat,’ said Owen. He reached out, seizing Jackson by the shoulders, detaching him from the marble and shaking him, then guiding him gently to an armchair. Jackson sat down.

‘I’m sorry, I just wanted to park that stuff, I’m most grateful, I really want to go on -’

‘Where to? I won’t let you go. Has Benet kicked you out?’

‘Yes. He left a letter - ’

‘What—
has he
really
kicked you out? I can’t believe it! What have you done - or rather what has
he
done? All this is madness! Thank heavens you’ve come to me. But really, you can’t have done anything wrong, it’s perfectly impossible, you don’t do wrong things!’

‘It’s all my fault,’ said Jackson. ‘He was fed up with my going round to do jobs in other people’s houses.’

‘Well. What were you doing in other people’s houses? Maybe he had a point! You’ve never done much here! No, no, I’m just teasing, how
dare
I tease you when you’re so terribly tired? I’m
very
surprised at Benet losing his temper. He’ll want you back tomorrow.’

‘I don’t think so. I messed things up. I really must go out, go on -’

‘Where to? Who to? I’ll go with you. I’ve often wondered where you were going! Let us go together!’

‘I don’t want to - ’

‘You are about to say you don’t want to be a nuisance and so on, but you must realise, you must be
certain,
that I am
very glad to see you
and I
am going to hold on to you.
Now sit quiet here. I shall bring some things to eat and to drink and we shall sit at this little table. You seem ready for a dead faint.’

Leaning back in the armchair Jackson experienced a strange though faintly memorable sensation coming as if from long ago as of being embraced by a huge warm watery substance which rose gently above his head, not death, not drowning, but coming as it were to his rescue. He let his head fall gently onto the back of the chair. He closed his eyes for a moment. He heard Owen’s voice far away. He went to sleep.

 

He woke up. Owen was looking down at him. He sat up. After a few seconds he remembered. He said, ‘I am so sorry. I think I slept.’

‘Yes, you did. I didn’t wake you. It’s just as well I pulled you in here. Time has passed. Now you shall eat and drink. Then I shall send you to bed.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Nine o’clock.’

‘Yes, in the evening. I forgot to tell you about Mildred. She’s gone to India where they wear saris and squat on the ground. God or Krishna has sent you to me. Now let us eat and drink and be merry.’

Owen had laid out a little table with whisky and red wine and orange juice and ham sandwiches and olives and plums and cherry cake. Jackson stared at these. The whole business of Tara and Benet’s return came back to him. He felt sick with shame and grief. He hung his head. He also wondered whether Marian and Cantor were all right, and whether they were now far away. He drank a little orange juice, and some water which he asked Owen to bring. He ate a ham sandwich and an olive. He felt an extraordinary burden, like an animal clinging to his back and shoulders. He said to Owen, ‘I’m terribly sorry—’

‘I know, you want to go to bed. I can see - tomorrow you’ll tell me — I hope. Come, I’ll help you up, I’ll get you up the stairs, hold onto me, that’s right, come on, just another flight up, we’re nearly there, I always keep this place ready, just in case, only no one comes, only you - that’s an omen, there’s the bathroom, can I get you - all right, all right — I’ll pull the curtains, it’s a huge bed you know - no I won’t, not yet anyway —I can’t tell you how glad I am that you have taken refuge with me. May I kiss you - will you kiss me - thank you, darling, I love you, goodnight, dear Jackson.’

 

 

 

 

Jackson woke up. He was lying in a bed, in a strange bed, in a huge bed in a strange room. Sunlight was coming in through slits in heavy curtains. His head was being lifted by a mass of big soft pillows. He breathed quietly, he tried to lift himself by his elbows, but fell back. Was he in hospital? No. He remembered yesterday, that terrible long day. Yet he had slept so much of it - why was he always sleeping? He remembered where he was, and Owen helping him up the stairs. Dear Owen. Then he remembered yesterday morning, when he was asleep on the sofa at Tara. Oh
God, Tara — Benet.
And the
end
of all that! He began to get out of bed. Where were his suitcases and things? He saw them in a corner of the room. Owen must have brought them up when he was asleep. What a wretched miserable furtive creature he was yesterday - and today. What could he do, where would he go, to what to whom could he now appeal? He loved Owen, but he could not stay with Owen.

He got out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The sun blazed in. He did not look out of the window. He opened one of the cases, then closed it again. He had been wearing his clothes in bed, except for his jacket and his shoes. Sitting on a chair he slowly put these on. What next? Nothing next? Everything seemed to be
finished up.
He got up to go to the adjacent bathroom. He opened the other case and found his sponge bag, his shaving material, his razor. He walked very slowly, like an old man. Well ... He cut himself shaving and left some blood on the towel. He came slowly back into the bedroom. He told himself to
buck up
with little effect. He sat on the bed. He could not stay, he must leave as soon as possible. He must make
other plans,
altogether
other plans.

Now suddenly he could hear Owen running up the stairs. He stood up and tried quickly to make himself look tidy, look sane.

Owen burst into the room. ‘Oh, Jackson, you’re awake. You haven’t heard the wonderful news!’

‘What news?’

‘Marian! She’s alive and well, she really is alive and well, what a goosechase she has led us, Benet has told me over the telephone, he’s telling everybody, he’s so happy—’

‘How splendid!’ said Jackson. He sat back on the bed. ‘But where has she been all this time?’

‘The little minx, she has been in hiding with her lover, he’s an Australian—’

‘How amazing! She might have let us know sooner.’

‘Yes indeed! But what a relief, and what damned fools we’ve been!’

‘So now we shall see her, with this chap—’

‘Well, no, not yet I gather, they’re leaving for Australia today! The wicked teasers! Benet got the letter just this morning - and then the dear villains actually telephoned him from the airport!’

‘They telephoned him!’

‘Yes, both of them, I expect they’ll be airborne by now. No wonder they’re running away! They’ve caused such a bother - but somehow now we shall have to forgive them, won’t we!’

‘Yes,’ said Jackson.

 

 

 

 

It was the previous evening, before the Marian news.

Of course Rosalind had come back, how could she not. She came knocking late upon the door. This Tuan had expected and feared. Since she had left him he had been in anguish. He had stayed at home all day. He had not telephoned Benet, he had not telephoned anybody. He was quite unable to concentrate on his work. He employed himself by tidying up the house, cleaning the kitchen (though it was already clean), sorting the books (some of them were out of order), washing his shirts, and mending a tear in an old coat. Sometimes he walked up and down, he moaned and put his fingers in his mouth and bit them. What was he to do, what was he to do? He ought not to have told that hideous story to Rosalind - indeed having told it must suggest that he should never see her again. Even to tell it to anybody was a sin, why this one little story, when the
whole thing
was so
eternally hideously immense.
He, his presence, his being with her, was darkening everything for both of them. His having told it to
anybody
made it a thousand times more vivid, more violent. His father must have known that
he
should not tell that tale to his son, and he must have regretted it afterwards. Perhaps telling it had seemed to be some great necessary duty, some gruesome
detail
picked out of the
black mountain.
But what good had it done? - it had damaged Tuan, and now Tuan had damaged Rosalind. He thought, she will
resent
it, not at once, but later. Should he now leave London, leave
them,
return to Edinburgh for good? It was not a bad idea. There were things he might attend to there. He considered ringing up Rosalind - better than sending her a letter — to tell her that he was very soon going away.

 

He opened the door for her and she slipped through. He closed the door quietly and followed her into the sitting room. He said, ‘Have you any more news of Marian?’

Rosalind looked surprised, then distressed. ‘Oh no news. If there were Benet would ring up. Has he rung you?’

‘No. Why have you come here?’

‘I’m sorry — I want to see you again — let me stay, please.’

‘We have said enough.’

‘What do you mean? Can we not sit down? Please let me talk to you.’ She sat down upon the sofa.

Tuan stood, staring at her, his hands behind his back.

She said, ‘I am frightened of you. Do not look like that—’

‘I am going away. I mean going away for good. I am going to Scotland.’

‘If you go to Scotland I shall go with you, I shall go wherever you go, I love you.’

‘You hardly know me. Your love is a dream. And I am a demon. Oh Rosalind—’

‘You say my name.’

‘For the last time.’

‘Do not be cruel to me, do not hurt me,
please
—
’

‘Why are you wearing that dress?’

‘I thought — I just thought you might - well — like me - in this dress - ’

‘You think about
that?
’

‘Tuan, let me stay with you tonight.’

‘I saw you when you were sleeping.’

‘Then let me stay with you now, let me go with you wherever you go, I shall not be a burden, I shall work for you, I shall make money for us - you are not gay, are you, well, I know you are not—’

‘You are a
fool.
Oh
God,
I am not myself. Please go away. I ought not to have done it, I have damaged us both.’

‘Tuan,
stop -
just be quiet - let us both be quiet together, I love you, I have always loved you, you remember that evening at Penn - before that, what happened — I wanted so much to talk to you, to touch you—I was in love with you then—you say you saw me when I was sleeping - oh my dear love, let me stay with you. Please, in the name of Uncle Tim, who found you on the train, he said you were like a Greek boy, and he said you were so sweet and gentle like a dear lovely good animal, and then he gave you your name out of a book—’

‘A name of doom and death. That shadow will be upon me always, and now I have spoken it, it is heavier and darker. I am sorry, I am
very sorry.
Now please go
away,
Rosalind.’

‘I want to sleep with you tonight.’

‘How can you say that when Marian may be dead? Will you now go
away, please.
’

 

Rosalind was gone. Tuan sat motionless until late in the night. Then he lay down for a long time in the darkness with open eyes. On the next morning he was awakened by Benet joyously announcing that Marian was absolutely safe and well, had talked to him on the telephone, and was going to Australia with her
fiancé
! Tuan considered ringing Rosalind, but of course Benet must have done so. He turned off his telephone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After Owen and Jackson had had breakfast, Owen became calmer.

‘I’ve never had a day like this in my life. No, I’m a liar, of course I’ve had all sorts of quaint days. But this is a thoroughly odd one. What could be odder than
you
turning up — we belong to entirely different worlds, a different ether, a different planet - we do all sorts of different things - but now we shall be able to explore each other - don’t be afraid - we shall be
amazingly creative -
we’re awfully alike just now, you know - he’s chucked
you
out, and
she’s
chucked me out! We are now to recover - to the devil with them - we shall enter a new life - maybe we’ll talk of other people too, not
them
of course - and exchange all sorts of secrets. I bet you won’t though. You’ve always been an absolute clam. I shall try to prise you open. Or like an oyster - yes, an oyster, and there’s a pearl inside, I know that. You shake your head. But how can you be sure? The oyster isn’t sure. It’s something that grows in you without your knowing. Mildred said something about you, damn her I forget what, something nice of course. You shall teach me wisdom, I shall teach you painting, that’s all I can teach - perhaps you will become a great painter, far better than me. I think you’ve got a
quest,
isn’t that so, Benet was a dead end, now you are free, look now, I’m serious, I can set you free, well, that’s boasting, you’ll set me free, anyhow you’ll become your
real self,
you’re rather weird you know, and you’ve got so many trades, probably secret ones too — and you’re silent — let’s go somewhere together, but not yet outside the house, I won’t let you outside the house, not yet anyway, like a dog or a cat who might run away and get lost, I’ll show you my cat upstairs, cats, that is, in pictures of course — how old are you by the way? - you are an avatar with a broken wing, you may be two hundred years old for all I know - never mind, we’ll get very drunk - but now we’ll be free, we’ll
do over
the house like magic housemaids.’