Authors: Muriel Spark
‘Throw
some water over her,’ ordered Marlene.
‘Tim,
fetch some water. — Where’s Tim? Tim, where are you? Where’s that boy?’
But at
some point during the dark and troubled séance Tim had slid silently away.
Chapter III
‘NEVER again,’ said Tim. ‘It
was absolute hell let loose.’
‘Tell
me a bit more,’ said Ronald Bridges. Just then Tim’s telephone rang.
‘Oh,
Aunt Marlene,’ said Tim. ‘Sorry I keep forgetting —
Marlene.
After all,
you are my aunt and — yes, Marlene. No, Mar — Yes, it was just that I was
overwhelmed
Marlene. Yes, I was just going to ring you.’
He made
a sign to Ronald to fetch over his drink. ‘No, Aunt — sorry, — No, Marlene.
Yes. No. Of course. Of course not. Look, I’ve got a fellow here on official
business. Yes, I do know it’s Sunday, but this was urgent and he called —
Tomorrow at eleven. Right, I’ll ring you at eleven. Yes, at eleven. Goodbye,
Aunt — Yes, at eleven. Yes. No. ‘Bye.’
Tim
took up his drink and subsided on to the sofa. ‘As I was saying,’ he said, then
closed his eyes and slowly sipped his drink.
‘I’ve
often been tempted to go to a spiritualist meeting,’ Ronald said, ‘just to see.’
‘I
nearly died,’ said Tim opening his eyes behind his glasses.
‘I
thought you had actually joined the thing, ‘Ronald said.
‘Well,
yes, I suppose I had. But last night’s show was something special.’
‘How
did it end?’
‘I left
after the second act.’
‘Finished
with it now?’ Ronald said.
‘Well,
yes. But it needs caution.’ Tim nodded over to the telephone as if the spirit
of his Aunt Marlene, whose voice had a few moments before come over on it,
still lingered there. ‘She needs handling with tact,’ said Tim.
‘Whatever
made you take it up?’
‘Well,
it was rather exciting to start with. And it’s a fairly bleak world when all is
said and done.’ He rose and carelessly slopped more gin and tonic into the
glasses, without, however, spilling any. ‘And, you know,’ he said then, ‘there
is something in it. This medium, Patrick Seton, isn’t altogether a fraud, you
know. He’s got something.’
‘Patrick
Seton, did you say?’ Ronald said.
‘Yes.
Know him?’
‘A meek
little thin-faced fellow with white hair?’
‘Yes,
do you know him?’
‘I do
remember him,’ Ronald said, pleased with this functioning of his memory. For
now he was able to place in his mind the man he had seen the previous morning in
the coffee-bar. ‘There was a case of forgery about five years ago,’ Ronald
said. ‘I had to identify the handwriting. He was convicted.’
‘I
believe there’s another case coming up against him,’ Tim said. ‘I’m not sure if
it’s forgery. It’s the talk of the Circle. What a crowd!’
‘Fraudulent
conversion,’ Ronald said.
‘You
seem to know a lot about him.’
‘Martin
Bowles is prosecuting counsel. He mentioned the case.’
‘I can’t
believe he’s entirely a fraud as a medium,’ Tim said. ‘I’ve heard him come out
with the most terrifying true facts that he couldn’t possibly have known about.
He once told me during a séance about a personal affair at my office that
nobody could have known about except me and another chap. And the other chap
hadn’t any remote acquaintance with Seton.’
‘The
affair might have been on your mind, and he might have picked it up by
telepathy. Do you believe in telepathy?’
‘Well,
yes, there seems to be evidence for telepathy. But it’s odd that Seton keeps
picking things from people’s minds. He’s got something.’
‘I
should like to have heard him,’ Ronald said.
‘You
can go along if you like. Really, I mean it,’ Tim said eagerly. ‘There are
meetings on___’
‘No,
thanks,’ said Ronald. ‘You’ll have to make your escape some other way.’
‘I only
thought, if you wanted to see Seton in his trance—’
Ronald
said, ‘He’ll probably be in prison before long.’
‘Do you
think so? What a pity, in a way,’ said Tim. ‘Of course I know nothing about the
case. But that type doesn’t ever stay out in the open for long.’
‘I
suppose he could be a genuine medium,’ Tim said, ‘and a fraud in other
respects. It’s a widow-woman who’s taking action against him. I think he used
to sleep with her and he got some money off her, and then he stopped sleeping
with her and’ now she’s furious. But she seemed pretty scared of him last night
when he started to give out messages from her husband who’s dead. She’ll
probably change her mind and withdraw the action.’
‘Can
she do that?’ Ronald said. ‘It’s a police prosecution.’
‘Oh, I
don’t know, really.’
Tim’s
telephone rang. ‘Yes, Marlene. No, Aunt —No. Well, yes, he’s still here. No, I
can’t manage lunch, I’m afraid, I — Don’t be upset, Marlene. Listen. Don’t.
Yes. No. Hang on a minute.’ Tim covered the receiver with his hand.
‘Would
you come with me to lunch with her? ‘he said, mouthing at Ronald. ‘Not a
séance, only lunch.’
Ronald
nodded.
‘Listen,
Marlene,’ Tim said, ‘I think I can come. Can I bring Ronald Bridges? He’s the
chap that’s with me. Yes, of course he’ll be interested. No, I don’t think so,
no, he’s R.C. Yes, I know I said he was here on business but now we’ve finished
our business chat. But of course he’s allowed to lunch with you, at least I
think so. We’re just going for a drink now. Yes. Quarter-past. Yes, thanks. No,
yes. ‘Bye.’
Then he
said to Ronald, ‘She’s upset. She thinks I’m going to leave the Circle after
what happened last night. She’s right.’
Ronald
said, ‘Do you mind if I go home first to fetch my pills?’
‘I’ll
come with you. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re coming for
support. I don’t particularly want to
fall out
with Marlene.’
‘I was
going to fry bacon and eggs,’ Ronald .said.
‘I was
going to skip lunch,’ Tim said. ‘One can’t afford two restaurant meals in one
day. And yet one’s got to eat, hasn’t one?’
‘There’s
something about Sunday,’ Ronald said, ‘which is terrible between one and three
o’clock if you aren’t in someone’s house, eating. That’s my feeling.’
‘Same
here,’ said Tim. ‘Funny how Sunday gets at you if you aren’t given a lunch.
Preferably by an aunt or a sort of aunt.’
‘Yes,
it’s nice to see a woman on a Sunday,’ Ronald said.
‘I
sometimes go down to Isobel’s with Martin Bowles,’ Tim said. ‘She’s a difficult
woman but still one does like her company.’
‘On a
Sunday,’ Ronald said.
‘I know
exactly what you mean,’ Tim said. ‘Funny. Now Marlene is difficult, too. But I’m
rather fond of her in a way. She thinks I’m after her cash and comforts, the
darling. But in fact I’m genuinely fond of her. They don’t ever quite realise
that.’
‘What was so distressing,’
Marlene said, ‘was hearing all the noise and not being able to
see.
‘
There wasn’t much to see,’ Tim said, ‘it was nearly all noise.’
‘You
shouldn’t have gone away,’ said his aunt. ‘Why ever did you go away?’
‘I was
overcome,’ Tim said.
‘Another
time,’ his aunt said, ‘go and lie down on a bed. Don’t just go away.’
‘Yes,
of course.’
‘I’ve
found out the name of the man who came with Freda Flower. He’s a Dr. Garland.
Doctor of what, I don’t know. He has quite a reputation as a clairvoyant, but
of course he’s a fraud. So many frauds manage to get themselves good
reputations. They prey on gullible women. Is all this boring you, Mr. Bridges?’
‘No,’
Ronald said. ‘It’s very interesting.’
‘Shall
I call you Ronald, Mr. Bridges?’
‘Please
do, I was going to suggest it.’
‘I hope
you don’t mind eating in the kitchen.’ She pointed to the shuttered hatch. ‘The
dining room is now the Sanctuary. Please call me Marlene. I don’t want you to
think, Ronald, that what we’re discussing is in any way a normal occurrence. It
has never happened before at any of our meetings, has it, Tim?’
‘Well,
things have been working
up
to a row, haven’t they?’
‘Not at
all. The deplorable behaviour of the Circle last night was quite unforeseen.’
Tim
stretched his long legs and sprawled on the sofa. He took off his glasses and
cleaned them with a white handkerchief, then put on his glasses again. He made
a rabbit out of his handkerchief.
‘Tim!’
said his aunt.
Tim sat
up, pulled the rabbit back into a handkerchief and said ‘What?’
‘You
are not taking this seriously enough.
I
suggest that after lunch we all
go into the Sanctuary for fifteen minutes for spiritual repose.’ She pointed to
the hatch to indicate the Sanctuary. ‘I wish Patrick were here to guide us.’
Tim
said, ‘I shouldn’t really like to go in there again. At least, not yet.’
‘What
do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with the room — what was wrong was the evil
spirit of that false clairvoyant amongst us.’
‘We can’t
have spiritual repose while Ronald’s here,’ said Tim, looking desperately at
Ronald, ‘because Ronald is a Roman Catholic and not permitted to have spiritual
repose.’
‘I’m
anti-Catholic,’ said Marlene.
Ronald
was used to hearing his hostesses over the years come out with this statement,
and had devised various ways of coping with it, according to his mood and to
his idea of the hostess’s intentions. If the intelligence seemed to be high and
Ronald was in a suitable mood, he replied ‘I’m anti-Protestant’ —which he was
not; but it sometimes served to shock them into a sense of their indiscretion.
On one occasion where the woman was a real bitch, he had walked out. Sometimes
he said ‘Oh, are you? How peculiar.’ Sometimes he allowed that the woman was
merely trying to start up a religious argument, and he would then attempt to
explain where he stood with his religion. Or again, he might say, ‘Then you’ve
received Catholic instruction?’ and, on hearing that this was not so, would
comment, ‘Then how can you be anti something you don’t know about? ‘Which
annoyed them; so that Ronald felt uncharitable.
There
were always women who confronted him with ‘I’m anti-Catholic,’ as if inviting a
rape. Men didn’t do this. Mostly, Ronald coped with the statement as he did on
this present occasion, when he said to Marlene, ‘Oh, I’m sure you’re not
really.’
‘
Yes really,’ Marlene said, as most of them did, ‘I am.’
‘Well,
well,’ said Ronald.
‘But I
don’t mean I’m anti
you,’
said Marlene. ‘You’re sweet.’
‘Oh,
thanks.’
‘There’s
a distinction,’ Tim pointed out, bright with tact, ‘between the person and
their religion.’
‘I see.’
Ronald attended closely to his potatoes.
‘But
you don’t like us,’ said Marlene. ‘In fact, you detest us.’
‘Detest
you?’ said Ronald. ‘Why, I think you’re charming.’
‘Now,
now. You’re avoiding the question. The fact is, you’re not allowed—’
‘Ronald’s
awfully interested in spiritualism,’ Tim said.
‘He
doesn’t believe in it,’ Marlene said. ‘He thinks it’s all baloney. He’s one of
those___’
‘I’m
sure it’s possible to get in touch with the spirits of the dead,’ Ronald said.
‘Are
you?’ said Tim. ‘Now that’s interest—’
‘Catholics
aren’t allowed to do it,’ Marlene said.
‘We
invoke the saints and so on,’ Ronald said, ‘and they are dead.’
‘A very
different thing,’ Marlene said. ‘That’s idolatry. In Spain, for instance —
well, perhaps I shouldn’t say. I once had an Irish maid, she was most
difficult. But anyhow, you don’t
get through
to the saints, do you? They
don’t send you messages. Have you heard the actual voice of any one of your saints?’
‘No,’
said Ronald. ‘You’ve got a point there.’
‘I have
indeed,’ Marlene said. ‘I’ve heard my husband’s actual voice. Haven’t I, Tim? I’ve
heard Harry. His own dynamic voice.
‘Uncle
Harry was always very dynamic,’ Tim murmured.
‘Have a
bit more lamb,’ Marlene said. ‘It’s got to be eaten up. You boys aren’t eating
anything.’
‘Thank
you, I will,’ said Ronald.
‘Thanks,’
said Tim.
‘Tim,’
said Marlene, ‘fill Ronald’s glass and your own, for goodness’ sake. What do
you do for a living, Ronald?’
‘I work
in a museum devoted to graphology.’
‘Handwriting,’
said Tim.