The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch [176]
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, Charles—darling—I’m so sorry—’
‘I’m sorry—I’m a fool, an insensitive idiot.’
‘No, no—I’m sorry I got so upset and made such a nasty noise—I suppose I’m in a state of shock.’
‘I’m very sorry, sweetheart.’
‘That’s all right. Tell me—how 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?’
‘He wanted you to come home, and—’
‘And what?’
I was feeling so chastened and confused I went stupidly on, ‘He said he’d brought the dog back with him.’
‘Oh—the dog—the dog—I’d forgotten—’ Some more tears welled up and ran over her cheeks which were so bloated with crying that she was almost unrecognizable, but she controlled herself. ‘Oh dear—oh dear—I do wish I’d been there when the dog came.’
‘Look, Hartley,’ I said, ‘you don’t seem to be capable of thinking about this business, so let me think for you. We can’t go on like this. I’m beginning to feel like a terrorist. You’ve put me in a position where I have to play the bully, which is the role I detest most of all. All right, I don’t know what your marriage was like and maybe it wasn’t all that awful and he wasn’t all that awful, but it obviously wasn’t a success and I don’t see why you should put up with a violent and unpleasant man any longer when you don’t have to. You can walk out. I daresay you would have walked out before if you had had anywhere to walk to. Now you have. Let’s go to London. This situation here is driving me mad. I’m letting it go on because I don’t want to force you, I don’t want you to say later that you didn’t decide for yourself. I don’t want to be forced to force you. Have some consideration for me, and for Titus. I’m very fond of Titus, I regard him as my son, yes I do. And he hates that man, and if you go back to him you’ll never see Titus again. You’re not just choosing between me and your ghastly failed marriage—please forgive my language—there’s Titus in the scales as well. Let’s go to London, all three of us, and then away somewhere, anywhere. We’re a family now. What I’ve never had since