‘You can’t,’ said Edward. ‘You’re the last straw. Will you please go away, go home,
now.’
‘There isn’t any bus, I looked at the timetable, they don’t run after — ’
‘You can get a lift on the road.’
‘Edward, do lie down. You
are
ill. How can I go away and leave you? Hadn’t I better go and see Mrs Baltram? It seems a bit impolite to be sitting here chatting with you without making myself known to my hostess.’
‘“Impolite”, “chatting”, God!’
At that moment the door opened and a light shone in from outside. Bettina entered holding a lamp in her hand. She had also lighted the lamp in the niche by the stairs which shone behind her, shining through her skirt. She was in her mauve and white evening dress with multiple necklaces glittering, faintly clinking. Her dark reddish hair hung down in a single thick plait, now drawn forward over her shoulder. The hair being drawn away revealed her sharp aquiline handsomeness. She moved into the room, making with one hand a gesture of homage to Stuart, who had risen; then she curtsied.
‘Mrs Baltram?’
‘No, I’m Bettina.’
‘I’m Stuart — ’
‘Yes, we know. Welcome to Seegard.’
‘She’s one of the sisters, my sisters — ’ said Edward gauchely.
‘May I show you your room? Then supper is ready downstairs.’
‘His room? Where?’ said Edward. It was all like a hideous mocking charade.
Stuart had picked up his suitcase and followed Bettina out. Edward followed after and saw Bettina throw open the door of the big corner bedroom. The side window showed the hillside and the wood, dark against a darkened reddish sky. Bettina put down her lamp and closed the shutters on both windows and pulled the curtains. Then she lit a lamp which was standing on the table. ‘We use these lamps you see — you can turn it off by just turning this little wheel to the right. We conserve the electricity for essential things like the deep freeze and pumping the water. There’s your bathroom, there’s hot running water. There’s an electric torch in that drawer. I’ll turn off the paraffin heater later on. Dinner in half an hour if that’s all right?’
‘Oh — thank you — ’ said Stuart, ‘thank you so much.’
‘I’ll come back and fetch you,’ said Bettina. ‘Edward, what are you doing? You ought to be in bed.’
‘I’m coming down,’ said Edward. ‘I’ll show him the way.’
The thought of Stuart sitting downstairs with the women, the four of them together eating and drinking and talking about him, was utterly intolerable. Stuart’s presence was not only an outrage, it was a violation of the laws of nature. It was an unforgivable territorial offence at which Edward wanted to stand and howl like an animal. He felt sick with jealousy and rage and shock. Stuart had been expected, perhaps they had been watching for him from the window and had run to turn on the paraffin heater. Perhaps it had been on all day.
Edward ran back to his room, leaving Stuart looking at Jesse’s picture of the people sitting silently together paralysed by catastrophe. Mechanically he took off his jacket and put on the long oatmeal-coloured shirt which he wore at dinner time.
There was a little sound outside his open door and suddenly Ilona was in the room. She too had plaited her hair, schoolgirlishly in two flying plaits enlaced with ribbons.
‘Oh Ilona — Stuart’s here — ’
‘I know. I came to give you — to tell you — ’
Ilona suddenly put her arms round him. Then he felt something cold on his skin. She had put a chain necklace round his neck. ‘I made this for you.’
Edward had taken hold of her dress. ‘Thank you — but — ’
‘Wear it tonight for me. I came to tell you — ’
‘Yes — ?’
‘Don’t let anything frighten you. Remember, I’m your sister and I love you.’
‘I feel so sick,’ said Edward. But she was gone.
‘Edward told us how much you would appreciate this place,’ said Mother May. ‘May I help you to some of our special food? We are vegetarians, you know. We have a carefully balanced diet, the best diet in the world, we often bore Edward about this, don’t we, Edward? We use these wooden bowls. They are beautiful, don’t you think? We always eat like this, picnic fashion, for simplicity. May I?’
‘Please.’
Mother May had plaited her hair too, but had put it on top like a crown. The lamplight showed her face in shadowed detail, benign and calm, her eyes gentle, her mouth in repose, her expression eagerly, quietly attentive. Edward had never seen her so pleased and radiant. A necklace of blue beads which he had never seen before circled her slim youthful neck. When she smiled he could hear the faint sound of a benevolent sigh.
Stuart was looking round, studying the high wood-beamed roof, the uneven stone walls, the tapestry. Edward was about to avert his gaze for fear of catching Stuart’s eye when Stuart looked straight at him. In a signal apprehended only by Edward who knew him so well, Stuart indicated
amusement.
Edward thought, my
God.
He wanted to utter a little cry of aversion, checked his half-utterance into a cough.
‘It’s so wonderful to have you both here,’ said Mother May, casting a loving look at both of them. She almost laughed with pleasure. There was something simple, almost touching, in her air of satisfaction. ‘Will you have some wine? We make our own.’
‘We make our own everything,’ said Ilona.
‘We don’t usually drink alcohol,’ said Edward. ‘This is a special day.’ He was suddenly acutely conscious of his long discreetly embroidered smock, Ilona’s necklace round his neck, although he also knew that that was not what Stuart had permitted himself to be amused by. Perhaps Stuart was trying to reassure him. Edward did not like this either.
‘No wine, thank you,’ said Stuart.
‘Fruit juice? Ilona, pass the jug. It’s a mixture, Edward’s favourite, apple and elderberry.’
‘Welcome to Stuart!’ said Bettina raising her glass.’
‘Where is Mr Baltram?’ said Stuart. ‘I don’t mean Edward. Of course he’s Mr Baltram. I mean — Edward’s father — ’
‘He is not here just now,’ said Mother May.
‘Tonight it’s just us,’ said Bettina.
‘You are very kind,’ said Stuart. ‘But — Edward — are you really better — shouldn’t you — ?’
‘Yes, I’m better — thanks for coming, but really you needn’t stay.’
‘Oh, you must stay,’ said Mother May. ‘We need you! Now we’ve got both of you!’ She spoke jocularly.
‘You’ll never get away,’ said Ilona.
‘We need a moral Samurai,’ said Bettina, laughing.
‘You are an idealist, I know,’ said Mother May. ‘But seriously, you can help us — ’
From somewhere beyond the hall, in the direction of Transition, there came a strange sound, increasing gradually to loudness, as if a number of musical instruments were being twanged and jangled altogether, a crescendo sound as of an orchestra tuning up. Sudden silence ensued.
‘It’s for him,’ said Bettina. She looked at Stuart with glowing eyes.
‘The spirits bid you welcome,’ said Ilona. Then she giggled and covered her mouth with her hands.
‘The harp sound,’ said Mother May. ‘I am not sure what it means.’
Stuart sat very still, scarcely breathing, withdrawn into himself.
Mother May looked at him for a long moment, then looked at Edward. Edward saw her eyes asking something of him, some spark of reassuring communication, which he denied her by looking away. Then she said softly, as if whispering in the low unstrained whisper with which the good actor can reach the back of the gallery and which it seems that no one can hear except the person to whom it is addressed, ‘Edward, my dear, you aren’t well. Hadn’t you better go back to bed?’
‘OK,’ said Edward, in a loud harsh voice, and rose abruptly scraping his chair back upon the slates.
Almost at once Stuart rose too. ‘I think I’ll turn in if you don’t mind. I’m an early-bedder.’
He’s being kind to me, Edward thought, already half way to the door. When he had passed through the swing door to Transition he paused however and listened. Mother May was detaining Stuart, asking what time he liked to get up, teasing him. Now Bettina was talking about breakfast arrangements. Now they were all laughing.
Edward went on more slowly. His legs felt weak and his mouth bitter. Transition was dark but he knew every step now. The lamp in the niche by the stone steps of Selden gave a dim light ahead. Then another light grew behind him and a footstep. It was Ilona. She was bringing a lamp which she set down on one of the shelves of the corridor. A lamp to guide Stuart. Edward hurried, beginning almost to run.
‘Edward — wait — don’t be angry.’
‘I’m not angry. I told you. I’m sick.’
‘Don’t be sick. Do you remember what I said to you?’
‘Yes, Ilona.’
‘You’re my one.’
‘How — ghastly — ’ said Edward. He went on up the stone steps and paused at the turning and looked down at his sister, with her silly beribboned pigtails and her plump cheeks and small peering bird-like face. He thought, she’s going to cry. He said, ‘All right, all right,’ and ran on up to his room.
He lit the lamp and closed the shutters and began with frenzied haste to undress. He pulled his long shirt off, then found Ilona’s necklace still dangling about his neck and tore that off, it was feeling strangely warm now, even hot. He got into his pyjamas somehow. His aim was to be able to pretend to be asleep when Stuart came up. He got into bed and sat there stiffly, massaging his aching legs and feeling the creeping perspiration which was covering his entire body, running in little channels down his chest. He thought, perhaps it’s just kindness after all, she really wanted to help me, she loves me, they all love me, I need them so much and I’ve been so awful. What on earth went on in Mother May’s intricate subtle mind of a mother, a wife, a stepmother, what could Edward frame of such a woman’s mind? And he thought, perhaps it’s for Bettina. That’s what Ilona meant I suppose. She wanted to tell me she wasn’t going to fall in love with Stuart. But Stuart could marry
either
of them and I
can’t!
Then he thought but all this is
perfectly crazy.
Then he found, blundering towards it as in a crowded phantasmagoria, the image of Brownie, and he
prayed
to it: Help me, Brownie, help me. Then he realised he had forgotten to turn off the lamp, and as he was getting out of bed to do so Stuart entered.
‘Ed, you aren’t well. How are you feeling? Have you got a temperature?’
‘No, of course not.’
Stuart sat down on the bed. Edward, back under the blankets, removed his long legs to the other side. He pulled the sheet up, peering over the top of it.
‘This is a rum do here,’ said Stuart. ‘What do you make of it?’
‘Nothing,’ said Edward. ‘It can’t be thought about. It just exists.’
‘What was that extraordinary noise?’
‘Just some stuff falling over in the kitchen.’
‘I see. They were joking. It sounded very odd. When is your father coming?’
‘My — oh — Jesse — he’s here, he’s ill too, he’s at the other end of the house.’
‘I see. It was a
façon de parler.’
‘Yes,’ said Edward, picking up the ridiculous phrase, ‘a
façon de parler.’
‘I’d like to meet him. What’s he like?’
‘He’s quite nice,’ said Edward, beginning to disappear behind the sheet. He could see Stuart’s kind animal eyes looking at him anxiously.
‘Ed, you know I love you, I’ll try to help. Or if you like I’ll go tomorrow. It’s all — for you — ’
‘Great,’ said Edward, ‘but I thought you loved everybody.’
‘Don’t talk rot. Don’t tease me.’
‘Tease
you! Do you know how to turn off the lamp?’
‘Yes, you turn the little wheel.’
‘Well, could you turn it off, and then take yourself off.’
‘All right. But remember — ’ Stuart’s hand fiddled on top of the bedclothes trying to find Edward’s legs to touch, but Edward shrank away. ‘Good night.’
Merciful darkness fell. Stuart blundered out of the door. Edward lay back into his bath of sweat, and began a twisting and turning which he felt would continue all night. He thought of tortured men in cages where they could neither stand nor sit. He missed the sleeping draughts which Mother May had given him on the previous night. Tonight they had forgotten.
The presence of Stuart simply made Seegard
impossible,
it simply ruined
everything.
Now
Stuart
would become the longed-for boy,
he
would be loved by the women,
he
would sit and talk to Jesse. He would probably be able to communicate with Jesse far more deeply than Edward. Stuart would understand, he would intuit Jesse’s thoughts, he would tame Jesse, he would charm him, he would smile his kind feral boyish smile. Perhaps
that
was why Mother May, in her wisdom, had summoned him. Edward had failed, Stuart would succeed. This evening two people had told Edward they loved him — and there was nothing he could do with either love. These were useless loves. Tomorrow, he thought, I shall leave here, and I shall go to Brownie. He went to sleep after all and dreamt of Mark. Mark was sitting on his bed and holding his hand and smiling.