The Sea, The Sea Part 19

'I had to think so.'

'But why?'

'So that I could be sure that you had really gone, that it was really over. To make it sort of dead in my mind.'

'Oh, Hartley. For me it was never over, never dead in my mind. So you wanted me, you missed me, you were afraid to think about me? Doesn't that prove that you love me?'

'I think you did hate me, though, you feel resentment.'

'You mean now? You're dotty.'

'It's resentment really, otherwise you wouldn't be so unkind.'

'Hartley, don't torment me, you reason like a mad person.'

'Or it's curiosity, like a tourist, you're visiting me, visiting my life and feeling superior.'

'Hartley, stop, will you! Or are you just trying to hurt me? You are the one who's unkind. There is an eternal bond between us, you know there is, it's the clearest thing in the world, clearer than Jesus. I want you to be my wife at last, I want you to rest in me. I want to look after you forever, until I drop dead.'

'I wish I could drop dead.'

'Oh shut up-'

'I wish it could be all over, I have had had my life. I wish someone would kill me' my life. I wish someone would kill me'

'So he has has threatened your life?' threatened your life?'

'No, no, it's all in my mind '

'You can't go back now, I won't let you, even if you don't want me. It's so simple, only you complicate things so.'

'You want to make things complicated in your your way, you twist and turn, you're like an eel, I remember that about you.' way, you twist and turn, you're like an eel, I remember that about you.'

'So now I'm like an eel! I never twisted and turned where you were concerned. I always wanted you and no one else. I am the faithful one. I I never got married.' never got married.'

'Yes, but you lived with women, you lived with that old actress.'

'All right, but I couldn't find you! You were the one I wanted! I tried and tried to find you, I searched and searched and somehow I never really gave up hopeand perhaps that's why I've found you now.'

'I've been unjust to Ben.'

'Oh G.o.d, can't we forget Ben, Ben's over.'

'He suffered so much about t.i.tus, when t.i.tus disappeared, it was like a penance.'

'Maybe he did, but he deserved to suffer, he drove t.i.tus away. I expect he was glad really.'

'No, no, he wasn't so bad to t.i.tus, not as much as I said. He was severe'

'He was violent. And to you. Don't try to defend him. Oh don't let's talk about that b.l.o.o.d.y man.'

'The protection of children people never came, I said they did but they didn't.'

'Oh d.a.m.n the protection of children people, what do I care whether they came or not?'

'But I said they did, and they didn't.'

'Even if they didn't come, they ought to have come.'

'But it wasn't true.'

'Why are you trying to whitewash that vile cruel man? t.i.tus hates him. Isn't that evidence enough?

It is for me.'

'Ben hasn't anyone in the world but me. He hasn't any thing thing in the world.' in the world.'

'He'll survive. What about me? Why not be sorry for me for a change? I've waited long enough. There's nothing so derelict as an old actor. What have I got now but my memories? I've stripped myself of all the power and all the glamourfor somethingand the something, although I didn't know it, was you. You can't let me down now.'

'Do you believe in G.o.d?'

'No.'

'I think I believe in Jesus Christ. You've got to believe in something and hold on to something. People would go mad without G.o.d, wouldn't they. We used to talk about that, didn't we.'

'I'm glad you haven't forgotten those talks. You remember when we were confirmed? It meant a lot, didn't it? Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire...'

'I think I believe in the remission of sins.'

'We all need a spot of that.'

'Love redeems, that means something, doesn't it?'

'Well don't tell me you propose to redeem Ben by love! I'm getting sick of Ben. What about redeeming me?'

'No one else will redeem him, no one else will love him.'

'Jesus will love him.'

'No, you see, for Ben, I've got to be Jesus.'

'This is mad talk, darling, really mad. Just try to think a bit. Doesn't it occur to you that Ben would heave a sigh of relief if you left him? d.a.m.n it, you've left him already. You aren't all that necessary. He mightn't want to send you off, but he'll be jolly pleased now you've bolted.'

'You want to make him unreal, but he's real.'

'Real things become unreal when you enter into the truth.'

'Our love wasn't real, it was childish, it was like a game, we were like brother and sister, we didn't know what love was then.'

'Hartley, you know that we loved each other'

'Yes, but we didn't make love properly, I wish we had.'

'I thought you didn't want to, I wanted to all rightOh, Christ Christ!'

'We were children. You never became part of my real life.'

'What you call your real life appears to have been h.e.l.l on earth! d.a.m.n it, you said so yourself. A happy woman doesn't talk about death.'

'I wish I hadn't told you things, I'll regret having told you things. Of course it's a muddle, but it's my muddle, it's where I live and what I am. I can't run out of it and leave it behind all jagged and loose like a broken sh.e.l.l.'

'That's exactly what you can do! Escape, run, leave it all behind! See that the pain can stop!'

'Can it? Can the pain stop?'

As she now stared at me, wide-eyed with a sudden pausing puzzlement, I wondered, is she mad, is her mind totally astray, is she just a poor wreck, or has she become some sort of fey spiritual being, refined by suffering? Had that strange wild look of her youthful beauty which I had loved so and worshipped been the first prophetic flush of a weird spirituality? There are secret saints with strange destinies. Yet no, she was a wreck, a poor broken twig, her integrity, her last ident.i.ty, destroyed by the cruel force which had made her abandon t.i.tus. But whatever she was I loved her and was committed to her and had always been, here and out beyond the stars, those stars behind stars behind stars which I had seen that night when I lay on the rocks and the golden sky slowly turned the universe inside out.

'Yes, my darling, my queen, my angel, it can stop.'

Oh if only I could touch and liberate her mind! I wanted to see her hoping, to see some dawn of hope or desire, the desire for cherishing, for a happy life. But she frowned now in her puzzlement and reverted to Ben.

'I've never been good enough to him/ 'I'm sure you've been a saint, a long-suffering saint!'

'No, I've been bad.'

'Oh all right, call it bad if you want to! Whatever it is, it's finished.' finished.'

I saw her then as innocent, as men in the past used to see cloistered girls and think: 'We are beasts, but they are angels, pure, not soiled like us.' I saw her as beautifully innocent, simple-minded, silly, understanding nothing: a reproach to me who had lived my life among vain egoistic men and pert, knowing women. Yet also I saw her guilt as real guilt for real failures. How could it be otherwise? And I remembered Peregrine's words: the partner who feels guilty, however irrationally, becomes the slave of the other and can take no moral stand. She had taken upon herself, as well as her peccadilloes, his his guilt. She felt herself guilty of his sins against her, against t.i.tus. I could see it all. And as she took up the guilt, appropriated it as her own, she revered the guilty one and held him as holy. Oh, if only I could release her from that maiming crippling guilt and from that empty reverence! G.o.d, she even felt guilty about me and had to guilt. She felt herself guilty of his sins against her, against t.i.tus. I could see it all. And as she took up the guilt, appropriated it as her own, she revered the guilty one and held him as holy. Oh, if only I could release her from that maiming crippling guilt and from that empty reverence! G.o.d, she even felt guilty about me and had to console console herself by thinking I hated her! She was spellbound, bound by a self-protective magic, which she had developed over the years to defend herself against the horrible pain of having married a foul insanely jealous bullying maniac. She had been brainwashed through fear of him, brainwashed by bearing the same things repeated to her again and again and again: that it was herself by thinking I hated her! She was spellbound, bound by a self-protective magic, which she had developed over the years to defend herself against the horrible pain of having married a foul insanely jealous bullying maniac. She had been brainwashed through fear of him, brainwashed by bearing the same things repeated to her again and again and again: that it was her her fault, always fault, always her her fault. No wonder t.i.tus wanted to go and sing on the rocks rather than be reminded of those scenes. She had cried a little. The tears of age are not the tears of youth. 'Stop crying. Hartley, you look like the pig-baby in fault. No wonder t.i.tus wanted to go and sing on the rocks rather than be reminded of those scenes. She had cried a little. The tears of age are not the tears of youth. 'Stop crying. Hartley, you look like the pig-baby in Alice, Alice, like you used to.' like you used to.'

'I know I'm ugly, horrible'

'Oh, my dear, come out of it, come right out of it, come out of the nightmare'

She dabbed her eyes with my handkerchief, let me hold her hand for a moment, began again to reflect.

'But what makes you think my marriage is so unhappy?' She was gazing at me now with an almost cunning look, as if she were about to produce a devastating refutation of anything I might say in answer.

'Hartley, darling, you're in a muddle. You admitted you were unhappy, you spoke just now about the pain of it!'

'Pain is different, in any marriage there is pain, life is pain but perhaps for youit all just pa.s.sed you by.'

'Perhaps it did, thank G.o.d.'

'You know, so many nights quietly at home I used to think of people in labour camps '

'If you had to cheer yourself up by thinking that at least you weren't in a labour camp you can't have been very happy!'

'But what makes you think my marriage is so bad, how can you judge? You can't see, you can't understand'

'I can judge. I know.' know.'

'But how can you know, it's just an idea, you don't understand about marriage, you've just lived with women, it's different, you haven't any evidence.'

'About you and himI have, yes, evidence.'

'You can't have. You've only just met us, you don't know anyone who knows us, well, like that, no one knows us, you can't have evidence.'

'Yes, I have, I've heard you talking to each other, the way you talk to each other' I said this in a final burst of exasperation and I have to confess with some desire to hurt. The calm obstinate persistence and now that superior cunning expression was driving me wild.

'What do you mean?'

'I listened, I hid outside the window and listened to you and him talking, I heard his coa.r.s.e voice, his brutal bullying manner, the way he shouted at you, the way he made you say over and over again 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'. I wish I'd broken the window, I wish I'd broken his b.l.o.o.d.y neck. I'll kill kill that roan. I wish I'd pushed him into the sea.' that roan. I wish I'd pushed him into the sea.'

'You listened listened you you heard heard when?' when?'

'Oh, I can't remember, a week ago, two weeksI'm so upset I've lost all count of timeso you see you can't pretend any more, you can't whitewash him and tell me you're happily married, because I know the truth!'

'The truth truthoh , , you don't understand! You you don't understand! You listenedhow listenedhow long?' long?'

'Oh, ages, an hour, no, I can't rememberyou were shouting at each other, it was perfectly horrible, at least he was shouting and you were whining, it was disgusting' disgusting'

'How can youyou don't know what you've donehow could you push in, spy on us like that.i.t was nothing to do with youhow could you intrude into secret things which you couldn't possibly understandit's the wickedest vilest most hurtful thing anybody's ever done tome''

'Hartley, darling, you know I only did it to help, I mean because I had to know, I had to be sure, to be certain'

'As if you could know know anythingoh, you've hurt me so much, I'll never forgive you, never, it's like, it's like a murder, a killing you don't understandOh, it hurts so much, so anythingoh, you've hurt me so much, I'll never forgive you, never, it's like, it's like a murder, a killing you don't understandOh, it hurts so much, so much' much'

'Darling, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't imagine'

Sitting bolt upright against the wall she was now crying as I have never seen any woman cry (and I have seen many). Tears seemed to shoot out of her eyes in torrents, then her wet mouth opened in a sort of strangled shout, an animal cry of tortured pain. Then she gave a low shuddering wail, and fell over sideways, grasping at her neck, pulling at the dressing gown as if she were suffocating. The wail was followed by a shuddering gasp, and in a moment she was in hysterics. I jumped up and watched her, appalled. Well then did I understand what t.i.tus had said about it: it is frightening and it is meant to be. I felt that the most violent a.s.sault was being made on my spirit, on my sanity. I had witnessed hysterical screaming before, but nothing like this. I knelt again and tried to hold her, to shake her, but she seemed suddenly so strong and I so weak, and also to touch her had become terrible. She was shuddering rigidly with a dreadful damaging electricity. Her face was red, wild with tears, her mouth dribbling. Her voice, raucous, piercing, shrieked out, like a terrified angry person shrieking an obscenity, a frenzied panic noise, a prolonged ' aaah', aaah', which turned into a sobbing wail of quick 'ohohoh', with a long descending 'ooooh' sound ending almost softly, and then the scream again: this continuing mechanically, automatically, on and on as if the human creature were possessed by an alien demonic machine. I felt horror, fear, a sort of disgusted shame, shame for myself, shame for her. I did not want t.i.tus and Gilbert to hear this ghastly rhythmical noise, this attack of aggressive mourning. I hoped they were far away on the rocks singing their songs. I which turned into a sobbing wail of quick 'ohohoh', with a long descending 'ooooh' sound ending almost softly, and then the scream again: this continuing mechanically, automatically, on and on as if the human creature were possessed by an alien demonic machine. I felt horror, fear, a sort of disgusted shame, shame for myself, shame for her. I did not want t.i.tus and Gilbert to hear this ghastly rhythmical noise, this attack of aggressive mourning. I hoped they were far away on the rocks singing their songs. I shouted shouted 'Stop, stop, stop!' I felt I should go violently mad if it went on for another minute, I felt I wanted to silence her even if it meant killing her, I shook her again and yelled at her, ran to the door, ran back again. I shall never forget the awful image of that face, that mask, and the relentless cruel rhythmical quality of that sound... It ceased at last, as everything dreadful has to cease, even if it ceases only by death. My presence, my cries, had no effect on her, I doubt if, in a sense, she knew I was there, although also, in a sense, the performance was for me, its violence directed at me. She became exhausted, stopped suddenly and fell back as in a faint. I seized her hand. It was cold. I became panic-stricken and would have run out and shouted for a doctor, only I was too frightened to leave her and too exhausted to make any decision. I lay down beside her and embraced her, uttering her name again and again. Her breathing became deep, regular, as if she were sleeping. Then I looked at her and saw her eyes open. She was looking at me again with that strange cunning look, as if now she were actually estimating the effect of her 'fit'. And when, later on, she began to talk again she sounded quite sane, quite rational, indeed more so than she had been earlier on. 'Stop, stop, stop!' I felt I should go violently mad if it went on for another minute, I felt I wanted to silence her even if it meant killing her, I shook her again and yelled at her, ran to the door, ran back again. I shall never forget the awful image of that face, that mask, and the relentless cruel rhythmical quality of that sound... It ceased at last, as everything dreadful has to cease, even if it ceases only by death. My presence, my cries, had no effect on her, I doubt if, in a sense, she knew I was there, although also, in a sense, the performance was for me, its violence directed at me. She became exhausted, stopped suddenly and fell back as in a faint. I seized her hand. It was cold. I became panic-stricken and would have run out and shouted for a doctor, only I was too frightened to leave her and too exhausted to make any decision. I lay down beside her and embraced her, uttering her name again and again. Her breathing became deep, regular, as if she were sleeping. Then I looked at her and saw her eyes open. She was looking at me again with that strange cunning look, as if now she were actually estimating the effect of her 'fit'. And when, later on, she began to talk again she sounded quite sane, quite rational, indeed more so than she had been earlier on.

'Oh, CharlesdarlingI'm so sorry'

'I'm sorryI'm a fool, an insensitive idiot.'

'No, noI'm sorry I got so upset and made such a nasty noiseI suppose I'm in a state of shock.'

'I'm very sorry, sweetheart.'

'That's all right. Tell mehow long have I been here, in this house?'

'Two days.'

'Has he been here, my husband? Or has he written me a letter?' This was the first time she had asked this.

'He hasn't sent a letter, I would have given it to you. He came, on that morning after you arrived.'

'What did he say?'