Read A Fairly Honourable Defeat Online
Authors: Iris Murdoch
A Fairly Honourable Defeat (44 page)
Hilda had seen Julius only twice since his return to England, on both occasions at Rupert’s urging. Rupert was anxious that there should be no appearance of coldness on Hilda’s part. She had joined Rupert and Julius for lunch once, and more recently Julius had come to Priory Grove for a drink, though he had only stayed for half an hour.
‘Please forgive me for walking in. The door was open!’
‘It usually is!’ said Hilda. ‘I expect you want Rupert. I’m afraid he won’t be in just yet.’
‘No, I don’t specially want Rupert. I was passing near by and I thought I might steal a brief refuge from the sun. You must forgive me for feeling so much at home here!’
‘But I’m delighted!’ said Hilda. ‘It is hot, isn’t it. You wouldn’t like a swim, would you? You could borrow Rupert’s things.’
‘No, no, I’m nervous of water, even in swimming pools.’
‘Perhaps you wanted to see Simon? He’s quite gone off his swimming lately, I’m sorry to say.’
‘No, indeed. But how modest you are! You imagine me to be anxious to see anyone rather than yourself.’
Have I been rude? thought Hilda. She always felt a bit awkward with Julius. ‘No, indeed—But wouldn’t you like some tea or a drink? I think it’s not too early for a drink, don’t you?’
‘I’d adore some lemonade,’ said Julius, ‘or Coca Cola if you had any in the fridge. I got so hot walking round the Boltons, and I must confess that the idea of a cold drink did figure in my plans for coming here!’
‘Of course, of course, do come downstairs. I’m afraid we don’t keep Coca Cola but you could have some lemonade and plenty of ice.’
Julius waited in the drawing room while Hilda squeezed lemons and brought the lemonade and glasses from the kitchen. He had opened the french windows and a warm thick smell of garden came into the room.
‘You wouldn’t like some gin with it? No? Do sit down, it’s a bit cooler in here. I expect you miss the air conditioning. But this is very unEnglish summer weather you know, and I don’t suppose it’ll last much longer.’
Julius merely smiled and sipped the lemonade. He was sitting in a small armchair half turned to the window. Hilda hovered about and then sat down near him. The room was shadowy and uncertain in the proximity of the bright sunlight. Hilda felt uneasy.
‘I gather you may be our neighbour in the Boltons,’ she said. ‘You’ll be very grand when you live there, we’ll hardly dare to call on you!’ I’m being idiotic, she thought. Why am I so inept?
‘I hope
you’ll
come,’ said Julius, politely. ‘Hilda, what perfectly delicious fresh lemonade. What are the more vaunted pleasures of the flesh compared with the wild joy of quenching one’s thirst on a hot day?’
you’ll
come,’ said Julius, politely. ‘Hilda, what perfectly delicious fresh lemonade. What are the more vaunted pleasures of the flesh compared with the wild joy of quenching one’s thirst on a hot day?’
Julius was sipping his lemonade, smiling at her with an air almost of ecstasy, and his face looked like a mask. What pale hair and dark eyes he has, thought Hilda. He really is a very odd-looking man. His hair has a strange faded look, like old hair, yet his face is young. He’s not exactly blond at all, and his eyes must be dark grey, or are they dark brown with a sort of tinge of blue? And how extremely long and curly his mouth is, like two mouths blurred into one.
She thought, I mustn’t stare so. ‘It is a pleasant neighbourhood, ’ said Hilda.
‘I like that little backwater where Morgan lives too,’ said Julius. ‘It’s quite near here, isn’t it.’
‘You’ve been to see Morgan—’
‘Yes. Just as a friend of course, the drama is over. I hope you didn’t think too ill of me, Hilda?’
‘I—no, I—how can I judge?’
‘One does judge, though. Morgan must have told you about it all?’
‘She told me a little, yes, but—’
‘But—?’
‘But other people’s lives are very mysterious,’ said Hilda. ‘One can hardly ever see what another person is like.’
‘You mean you can’t see what I’m like?’
‘No. I can hardly see what Morgan’s like. Morgan talked about it, but I couldn’t really see—or presume to make any judgement. ’
‘Thank you,’ said Julius, after a moment’s silence.
He was rather solemn now. Hilda felt agitated by the conversation. Julius was studying her and she could not look at him. She looked at the sunlit garden and the sparkling water and the roses and her eyes dazzled. She shifted her chair and filled her sight with the soft blurred colours of the dim room, the figure of Julius vague and hazy in her attention. She felt nervous and yet at the same time almost sleepy.
‘It may seem odd to you, Hilda, but I cared very much what you thought.’
‘What
I
thought?’
I
thought?’
‘Yes. Perhaps one instinctively selects one’s judges. Perhaps there is deep significance in the selection. I always wondered: what will Hilda think?’
‘But you scarcely know me, knew me.’
‘I am glad you altered the tense. Morgan talked a lot about you. And after all I have met you quite often, and you are not a person one forgets. I dare say I have observed you much more closely than you have observed me.’
‘I can hardly believe you really worried about my opinion!’ said Hilda. The idea rather pleased her however.
‘I did, I assure you! You are so much more grown-up than Morgan, so much more of a genuinely thinking being. When I tried to be objective I tried to see the thing through your eyes. Impossible of course, but I assure you it was a salutary exercise!’
Hilda was touched. It also occurred to her that she had not conceived of Julius as having scruples. She had been rather unjust to him. ‘I hope you were not too hurt by what you called the drama?’
‘Thank you for asking, Hilda, thank you for
thinking
! I was hurt, I was after all very attached. But one recovers and the details don’t matter. And I suppose my conscience ached a bit! A married woman and so on. I am old enough to be a very conventional person at heart. But one can deal with one’s conscience. Morgan dealt with hers. And I can’t pretend to be very saintly.’
thinking
! I was hurt, I was after all very attached. But one recovers and the details don’t matter. And I suppose my conscience ached a bit! A married woman and so on. I am old enough to be a very conventional person at heart. But one can deal with one’s conscience. Morgan dealt with hers. And I can’t pretend to be very saintly.’
‘I expect it was really a
muddle
,’ said Hilda. ‘So many things in life are.’
muddle
,’ said Hilda. ‘So many things in life are.’
‘So many things are. I’m afraid your sister has a compulsive genius for muddles.’
‘I think she gets entangled with people because she’s so kindhearted, ’ said Hilda, ‘and then she finds she can’t get out.’
‘Exactly. And it’s very innocent really.’
‘You think Morgan has recovered?’
‘From me? Well! Yes! Don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Hilda thoughtfully. ‘She is certainly quite absorbed in—being kind-hearted in another quarter!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘And as you say, it’s very innocent really.’
‘Good heavens,’ said Julius, ‘so you
know
?’ He put his glass on the floor and stared at Hilda.
know
?’ He put his glass on the floor and stared at Hilda.
‘Yes of course,’ said Hilda. ‘But how did you know? Did Morgan tell you?’
‘I—got to know.’
‘I hope it’s not being talked about or made a thing of?’
‘You’re being very calm about it, Hilda.’
‘Why not?’ said Hilda. ‘It’s not in any way alarming, in fact it’s been very valuable. After all they’re both fairly sensible people and the difference in their ages—’
‘Hilda, you
amaze
me,’ said Julius. ‘I’ll confess now that I’ve always admired you. Now I reverence you.’
amaze
me,’ said Julius. ‘I’ll confess now that I’ve always admired you. Now I reverence you.’
‘You’re beginning to worry me, Julius!’ said Hilda. ‘Have some more lemonade, no? Perhaps I ought to be more troubled. But I don’t see that anyone is going to be hurt—’
Julius let out a long breath. ‘Hilda you’re marvellous. So genuinely unconventional! And you aren’t just heroic, you’re probably also wise. After all as you say, two sensible people, these things blow over, if one has the sense just to wait and not to interfere, and of course it’s probably just a sort of kind-heartedness on both sides—’
Hilda laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s kind-heartedness on Peter’s side!’ she said. ‘I think poor Peter has really fallen a bit in love with his Aunt Morgan. But it’s just calf love and I know Morgan will deal with it sensibly.’
There was a silence. The silence lasted oddly long. Hilda turned to look at Julius. He was looking at her with a strange horrified expression. ‘What is it, Julius?’
‘
Peter.
I see. I’m sorry I—I thought we were talking of—something else—oh dear—’
Peter.
I see. I’m sorry I—I thought we were talking of—something else—oh dear—’
‘What else could we be talking of?’ said Hilda, surprised.
‘Oh yes, yes, what indeed. Yes, Peter, of course. Dear me, how late it is. Hilda, I really must go.’ Julius rose to his feet.
‘But whatever did you think we were talking about?’ said Hilda. She rose too.
‘Oh nothing. A complete misunderstanding. I mean, yes, of course I was talking about Peter. Morgan told me all about it. Excuse me, Hilda, I must go. I think I should call on Morgan since I’m so near. Thank you for the lemonade.’
‘Morgan’s out of London,’ said Hilda. ‘She’ll be away for a week or two.’
‘Well, well, she told you that, did she? I mean, oh yes I see, out of London! Yes, yes, Hilda, I must run.’
They were at the front door.
‘You’ve confused me, Julius,’ said Hilda. ‘What did you mean just now when you said—’
‘Nothing, nothing. Just about Peter. Hilda, I—Forgive me, forgive me.’
Julius kissed her hand. Then he departed rapidly with a wave and began to run away down the sunlit shadowed street.
Hilda held the hand which Julius had kissed in her other hand. She was not used to having her hand kissed. She returned slowly into the drawing room. She felt completely puzzled. Then she began to feel frightened, as if her life was suddenly menaced.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I’VE PUT THE IRISES in the white
art nouveau
jug,’ said Simon. ‘I hope you approve.’
art nouveau
jug,’ said Simon. ‘I hope you approve.’
‘I defer to you in such matters, dear boy.’
‘But say you think they’re nice.’
‘I think they’re lovely.’
It was Axel’s birthday.
Simon had after all decided against the salmon trout. They were to start with whitebait and retsina. After that a cassoulet with rice and Nuits de Young. Then a lemon sorbet. Then a salad of chicory and cos lettuce with a light dressing. Then white Stilton cheese and special wholemeal biscuits from the shop in Baker Street, with a very faintly sweetish hock.
It was of course rather hot weather for a cassoulet but Simon especially enjoyed making this dish. Also it was an absorbing task and just now he instinctively tried to find himself one absorbing task after another. He had made a start on it yesterday evening, cooking the beans with careful additions of onions, garlic, thyme, parsley, basil, gammon and pieces of sticky pork rind. That afternoon, which he had taken off from the museum, he had roasted some mutton and half a duck while the beans were heating up again to simmer quietly. After that the big brown earthenware pot which they had bought in Besançon was packed with layers of beans followed by layers of duck, mutton and garlic sausage, followed by more layers of beans, followed by more layers of duck, mutton and garlic sausage, all the way up to the top. Then a slow oven until the upper beans were crusty. Stir the crusty beans in and let other beans get crusty. Stir these in. The climax had almost been reached.
‘Doesn’t the smell of this make you almost faint with joy?’ said Simon to Axel. ‘I must say, I’m terribly hungry. We must be careful not to eat too much whitebait.’
‘I thought you never liked eating a fish if you could see its eyes. Perhaps whitebait’s eyes are too small to be accusing!’
‘Axel, please, this is no moment for sentimentality! I hope you followed my instructions and had no lunch.’
They were both in the kitchen holding glasses of sherry in their hands. Simon was wearing a very long plastic apron with pink and white daisies upon it.
‘I thought it was rather quaint to be forbidden to have lunch on my birthday!’
‘But in a cause like
this
!’
this
!’
‘I had a light lunch.’
‘You don’t take food seriously!’
‘Isn’t cassoulet a bit rich for this weather?’
‘It’ll make you perspire and then you’ll feel cooler.’
‘What a lot you’ve made. We’ll be eating it for days.’
‘It’s delicious cold.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t take food seriously,’ said Axel. ‘I’m very puritan really.’
‘A fact which we’ve discussed in other contexts, darling!’
‘Eating reveals the characteristic grossness of the human race and also the in-built failure of its satisfactions. We arrive eager, we stuff ourselves and we go away depressed and disappointed and probably feeling a bit queasy into the bargain. It’s an image of the
déçu
in human existence. A greedy start and a stupefied finish. Waiters, who are constantly observing this cycle, must be the most disillusioned of men.’
déçu
in human existence. A greedy start and a stupefied finish. Waiters, who are constantly observing this cycle, must be the most disillusioned of men.’
‘Really, Axel, in the presence of my cassoulet! I think it would be delicate to retire to the drawing room.’
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