The Sea, The Sea - Iris Murdoch [239]
I reached the hotel. I had not been there since the day when I was expelled from the dining room for not wearing a tie. The sun was shining into the cheerful comfortably furnished front hall as I went in, and it occurred to me how clean and tidy and pleasant it was after the filth and squalor of Shruff End, where I had no heart to embellish any more. There were bright chintzy armchairs and a huge vase full of wild buddleia and fuchsia and willow-herb and some of the mauve mallow which was growing among the rocks. A not too sneering servitor came forward to enquire my business. I was wearing dirty cotton trousers slightly rolled up and straying blue shirt, but this could pass muster in the morning, even in the presence of chintz armchairs.
I said, ‘Excuse me, but is Miss Vamburgh still staying in the hotel?’
The man gave me a slightly funny look and replied, ‘Mr and Mrs Arbelow are in the lounge, sir.’
My God! I walked to the door he indicated. The big lounge, with a huge view of the bay, was empty except for two people seated by the window and looking out. They turned as I came in.
‘Charles!’
‘Why it’s our favourite fun person! Charles, old man, we were just hoping you’d come, weren’t we, Rose?’
Two faces were turned towards me, blazing with amused malice.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘How nice to see you two together again. May I buy you a drink?’
‘No, no,’ cried Peregrine, ‘drinks are on us! Waiter, waiter! A bottle of that champagne we had yesterday, please, and three glasses.’
‘Did you go back to London,’ I asked Peregrine, ‘or did you come straight here?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I just stopped to drown my sorrow and there the old cross-eyed bitch was.’
‘And you fell into each other’s arms.’
‘Not at once,’ said Rosina. ‘We had a sort of jolly row to begin with. Peregrine was rather aggressive. He seemed to be chiefly annoyed about his windscreen.’
‘The windscreen bugged me,’ said Peregrine, ‘but it was mainly symbolic. Thank you, waiter.’
‘Let me open it,’ cried Rosina. ‘I love opening bottles of champagne. ’ The cork flew, the golden stuff foamed. ‘Charles!’
‘Thank you. Your health, Mr and Mrs Arbelow.’
‘We can hardly believe it, actually,’ said Rosina. ‘We’re happy. At least I’m happy. Are you happy, Peregrine?’
‘This unfamiliar sensation I identify unerringly as happiness. Charles, the best to you. Is your macabre military cousin still around?’
‘No, he’s gone.’
‘So you languish with the ever-faithful Liz?’
‘No, she’s gone too.’
‘All alone?’ said Rosina. ‘What about the bearded lady?’
‘Oh, they’re going away. Anyhow I’ve given up the Quest of the Bearded Lady. It was a brief mental aberration.’
‘That was the general view,’ said Peregrine. ‘We congratulate you.’
‘Are you going back to London?’
‘Tomorrow. Though it’s lovely here and the food is excellent. I’ve got a TV thing. May we drive you?’
‘No, thanks. And are you really joining forces again?’
‘Yes,’ said Rosina. ‘Everything has sprung back into place. We never got over each other and now we shall never have to. It’s as simple as that. But do you know, Charles, what made me suddenly see the truth?’
‘What?’
‘Peregrine murdering you!’
‘Well, trying to,’ said Peregrine. ‘I must be modest.’
‘Why was that so endearing?’ I asked.
‘Oh I don’t know, it was splendid. After all, you deserved to be murdered. For what you did to us, if for nothing else.’
‘Let’s not talk of that,’ I said.
‘Oh, don’t worry, we won’t list your sins, we’re feeling far too cheerful. But it was so sort of sporting and splendid of Peregrine to push you into that hole. I always hated the idea that he’d forgiven you. I only wish you’d drowned, it would have been more aesthetic.’
‘I can’t think why you didn’t,’ said Perry.
‘It was a piece