The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch [196]
I said, ‘Did you read my letter?’
Ben paid no attention to me. He was now looking at James and James was looking at him. James was frowning thoughtfully. Then he said, ‘Staff-Sergeant Fitch.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Royal Engineers.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You were the chap in that show in the Ardennes.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You did well,’ said James.
Ben’s face hardened, perhaps to inhibit some show of emotion, even some fleeting gleam of gratification. ‘You his cousin?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you still serving?’
‘Yes. Just retired actually.’
‘Wish I’d stayed in.’
There was a moment’s silence as if they were both thinking about the past and likely to break out into reminiscence. Then James said hastily, ‘I’m sorry about this business now. I—er, it wasn’t her fault at all, she’s completely innocent, and nothing happened, I give you my word of honour.’
Ben said expressionlessly, ‘OK.’ He made a movement of his head and shoulders indicative of dismissal.
James turned to me, rather blandly, like a chairman tacitly asking a distinguished speaker if he has anything further to say. I did not respond to his look, but turned to go. Gilbert opened the door, Peregrine marched out, then Gilbert, then Titus, then me, then James. The door closed softly behind us.
Before I reached the car I realized that I was still carrying the plastic bag containing Hartley’s make-up and the stone which I had given her. I automatically turned back. James tried to catch hold of me, but I dodged him and walked steadily back up the path. It was an almost superstitiously stringent necessity to leave that bag with Hartley, not to take it away, not to take it back to Shruff End to be a sort of unlucky token and collect the filth of demons. It only occurred to me afterwards that I could have left it on the doorstep. I rang the ding-dong bell and waited. The savage barking started up again. Ben shouted, ‘Shut up, you devil!’
After a moment or two he opened the door. The expressionless mask was gone. He grimaced with hatred. I felt there was a kind of levity about what I was doing, and yet it had to be done. I was also aware of interrupting the next scene. The bedroom door was open.
I held out the bag. ‘These are hers. Sorry I forgot to leave them.’
Ben seized the bag and hurled it away behind him into the hall where it bumped and clattered. He thrust his grimacing snarling head out at me and I stepped back. ‘Keep away or I’ll kill you. And tell that vile brat to keep away too. I’ll kill you!’
The door slammed with a violence which set the bell vibrating. The dog was now almost screaming. I came back down the path and crossed to the car, where Ben’s words would not have been audible.
Gilbert and Titus were sitting in the back. The seat was covered with opaque white stones like huge pearls. ‘What’s this stuff?’ I said.
‘The windscreen broke, remember?’ said James. ‘Now let’s go home. Peregrine?’
The car started, roared up the hill, turned, roared down the hill, going very fast. The air blew fiercely in through the open front window. No one spoke.
When we were getting near to the junction with the coast road Titus said, ‘Would you mind stopping? I’d like to walk from here.’
Peregrine stopped with an abruptness which sent us all flying forward. Titus began to get out.
‘Titus, you’re not going back there?’ I cried to him and grabbed at his shirt.
‘No!’ He slipped out, and said as he turned away, ‘I’m going to be sick, if you want to know.’ He started walking in the direction of the harbour. Peregrine set off again, driving violently.
Gilbert said to James, ‘What was that thing in the Ardennes that you were saying about?