The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch [184]
James was smiling, with the calm inane self-satisfied smile which he sometimes put on. He was carrying a suitcase. I could see his Bentley on the road parked next to Gilbert’s Volkswagen.
‘James! What on earth are you doing here!’
‘Have you forgotten? It’s Whit weekend. You invited me.’
‘You invited yourself. And of course I’ve forgotten.’
‘Do you want me to go away?’
‘No—no—come in—for a moment anyway.’
I felt confused, exasperated, profoundly startled. My cousin was always an unnerving portent. His presence in the house would change everything, even the kettle. I could not tolerate or manage James here, I could not continue to run my life with him upon the scene.
He walked in and put down his suitcase, looking around him with curiosity. ‘I like your situation. And that bay with the spherical boulders is quite extraordinary. I came by the coast road of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘That huge rock out in the sea covered with guillemots—you know where I mean?’
‘No.’
‘Haven’t you seen it? It’s—Well, never mind. I see there’s a martello tower. Does that belong to you too?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see the point of this place. What’s the date of the house?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, nineteen hundred, earlier, later. Oh God.’
‘What’s the matter? Look, I’m sorry, I ought to have written to warn you. I tried to ring up but I gather you’re not on the ’phone. I don’t have to stay here, I passed quite a nice-looking hotel a mile or two back—Are you all right, Charles?’
‘Come into the kitchen.’
Because of the weird light it was rather dark in the kitchen. Just as we entered, Gilbert and Titus came in from outside, the strange silent midsummer lightning signalling behind them.
Introductions were inescapable. ‘Oh hello. This is my cousin James who’s just dropped by. Gilbert Opian. And this is a young friend of mine, Titus. There’s no one else here, this is our complement. ’ As I said this I laid my finger as if by accident upon my lips. I hoped it was not too dark for them to see.
‘Titus,’ said James, ‘so you’ve come, good.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said to James. ‘You don’t know him, do you?’
I saw that Titus was staring at James almost as if he recognized him.
‘No, but you mentioned his name to me—remember?’
‘Oh yes—Well, have a drink, James? Before you go.’
‘Thanks, anything. That white wine that’s open.’
‘We drink it with blackcurrant,’ said Titus.
‘Are you his maternal cousin or his paternal cousin?’ asked Gilbert, who liked to get such things straight.
‘Our fathers were brothers.’
‘Charles always pretends to have no family. He’s so secretive.’
Gilbert, affably rolling his eyes, poured out four glasses of wine. He seemed to have lost some weight climbing about on the rocks in his new plimsolls. He looked younger and more relaxed. Titus added the dash of blackcurrant. He was smiling. It was clear that both of them were glad of this diversion, glad to have another person, an untainted outsider, present to talk to, to dilute the atmosphere; glad too perhaps to have an extra fighting man.
‘Yes, you’ve got a very odd and interesting house,’ said James.
‘You don’t feel any bad vibrations?’
James looked at me. ‘Who owned it before?’
‘A Mrs Chorney. I don’t know anything about her.’
‘Can you see the sea from the upper windows?’
‘Yes, but the view’s better from the rocks. I’ll show you if you can spare a minute. What sort of shoes have you got on? It’s a great place for breaking your ankle.’
I wanted to get James out of the house. I hustled him quickly out onto the grass and he followed me a short way over the rocks until we could sit on a warm summit with the sea view. The sea had