Jackson's Dilemma Part 9

Jackson thought, yes, she was ashamed before Rosalind. 'Never mind Rosalind. You could just stay with Tuan, he would care - '

'No, no, he likes Rosalind, I can't rest, I won't destroy myself, I shall just hide, I shall take another name, I shall go far away to a place where no one will find me -'

'This is all nonsense. I won't let you disappear! Can't you just understand about Benet, I could talk to him, I wouldn't say where you were - '

'I have said that I will not see Benet -!'

'I'm sorry, all right then Mildred, or -'

'I shall leave this country, oh - you don't understand what terrible pain is like!'

Jackson thought, I'm getting nowhere with this. Let me try another tack. He said, 'Listen, Marian, at least answer me some questions truthfully, I mean calmly. You have been speaking of how you have hurt Edward and made him hate you. But Edward does not hate you and you have not really hurt him. I believe that there is someone else too whom you think you have thrown away, who you imagine hates you - is there not such a person?'

Marian flushed. She said, 'How do you know these things? There is someone else whom I have damaged and who hates me far more than Edward does - that person is a demon and would kill me. You see, I am doubly destroyed.'

Jackson took the piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

On the same day of Benet's visit, Edward Lannion had returned to London. He was profoundly upset, made even more so by Benet's clumsy idiotic insinuations, suggesting that perhaps Edward would take Marian back, was already perhaps hiding her somewhere or then, put off that track, that he, having hurt Marian, might like to take up Rosalind instead! Benet's attentive sympathetic eyes, his familiar kindly face, now faintly reminiscent of Uncle Tim, his evident desire to touch Edward, to comfort him and stroke him, made Edward ready to wail with abhorrence. Of course Benet had been so kind to him. But now - and also the tiresome reference to the bridge, and to Spencer, as if tactfully drawing attention to some misdemeanour - all this was too much. For a while Edward stayed in the billiard room, moving round the table, catching the b.a.l.l.s by hand and making them move each other. Why had he gone into the billiard room anyway? It was so reminiscent of the past. The sheer dark heaviness of the table suggested the past, the far past, a place where he had been innocent and free, very very long ago. He remembered his father, his father's gentle solemnity, before the catastrophe. He pictured his dear mother dying, so young, his father weeping, he and his brother crying. His brother drowning. He thought about Marian. Then he drove in his sleek red car very fast to London, put the car in the garage, then walked about, stopping and staring blindly at things, avoiding certain places, then driven by hunger to a little Italian restaurant which he had not seen before where he ate little, realising it must by now be at least the afternoon. From the terrible moment of Marian's communication, and indeed before that, yes well before that, Edward had struggled secretly and silently with his great dark demon. He had drowned Randall, failed Marian, perhaps killed Marian, and there was another hideous fault, an old fault which he could not remedy and which might well finally drive him to suicide. He could see no possible road, even one far far ahead, which could lead him to happiness. Happiness! Not to joy, not even to continued sanity. There was only one thing which he might do, one real thing, but it was now more and more clear that he would not do it. He paid the bill and walked out into the warmth, among the colourful crowds who jostled him in friendly ways. He pa.s.sed noisy jolly pubs, their doorways wide open, spilling onto pavements, somewhere, perhaps in some park, birds were singing, the rich sky hung cloudless, there would be no dark, was not that the evening star? He blundered on, feeling that he would fall. He was lost. At last he took a taxi, returning to his house, to solitude and nightmare.

When Jackson had handed Marian the piece of paper he had not known what response to expect to Cantor's message. Marian I love you please please come back to me, please marry me. They had been sitting at the kitchen table opposite to each other. She was determined to go away forever, she had dreadfully hurt Edward, he hated her, she hated him, no, she would not see Tuan, she would not see Rosalind, or Mildred or Benet! It was after this that Jackson had tried to conjure up 'the other', at least hoping for some kind of clement change. This did not occur.

Marian read the message, she read it twice as if calmly, then tore it in two and threw it on the floor whence Jackson retrieved it. She said nothing, looking at Jackson with a tense savage coldness, he saw her teeth chattering, he saw them bared.

He said awkwardly, 'You know his writing.'

'Of course!'

'But don't you believe what he has written?'

'No, it's nothing, nothing- '

'You think - well, what - a sort of trap?'

'He hates me, I hate him, all that is over. You don't know what he's done, you don't know what I've done, you don't understand how far far away I am now -'

'Marian,' said Jackson, 'don't be angry with me. Listen, I have been to see Cantor, I have talked to him -'

'You went to see him? How did you find this, he gave it to you -?'

'Of course he did, where else did I get the message from -?'

'You have met him, you have seen him, you have talked about me, do you think that pleases me - I detest it - do you think I'll run to him just after that? Everyone is cruel to me, everything is mad, mad, mad -!'

'Oh Marian, don't cry please- '

'Don't you see that I hate myself -'

'No, no, you mustn't, you don't, you must believe, you must go where love is, this is a truthful message, do have hope, he loves you, I know he does - '

'I have destroyed everything around me, everyone despises me, even if they try to be kind they despise me, you despise me, I hate it all -'

'All right, suppose I drive you to Mildred, or to Elizabeth -'

'I don't want to see them, I hate them - oh Jackson, help me, help me -'

'I'll stay with you, I'll be with you.' But what on earth can I do, he thought, I am so tired. He wondered if he were actually falling asleep. He moved his chair round the table and put his arm round her shoulder, holding on to her white collar and gripping the fabric of her summer dress. For a moment she yielded, leaning her head down, then stiffly moving away. Tears were coming down her cheeks, she touched them with the back of her hand.

'I stayed in a hotel then,' she said, 'I'll find somewhere. I can get money from my bank. I'm going to leave the country as quickly as possible. Thank you, thank you, I must go now, now - '

'Wait,' he said, 'I'll go with you, I know a little quiet place, a lodging house, no one comes, I'll take you there, you could be quiet - let's go now - '

He led her, holding her hand, carrying her suitcase, looking anxiously at the house, out of the garden and through the side door by the garage and out into the street. He hurried along, pulling her after him, until he found a taxi.

'You're sure no one will find me?'

'Yes yes. I'll come tomorrow -'

'Oh Jackson - in so little time - I have destroyed my life -'

'All will be well with you, my dear dear girl -'

In the taxi he sat sideways looking at her, touching her, touching her face, kissing her hand.

'It's a little secret place, I know it, it's flats, all separate, I'll come along tomorrow!'

They got out of the taxi, Jackson paid the fare. Holding her wrist he led her towards the house. He pressed the bell for flat number three.

'Yes?'

'It's me - I've got a friend - can I come up?'

'Yes!'

'Good - just leave the doors open.' He said to Marian, 'It's just up the stairs, don't worry.'

Cantor left the upstairs, doors open. Jackson entered first, leading Marian. Then he released her, dropped her suitcase, and stepped back.

Cantor was standing in front of his desk. When he saw Marian he opened his arms. When she saw him she gave a loud cry and would have fallen to the floor had he not caught her in his embrace. She did not struggle.

Jackson stayed a moment or two, then closed the door on the landing and hurried down the stairs. Another job accomplished. Or was it? Would she come running back? Or would she simply run away and get lost again? He felt exhausted. He had had no sleep since - since when? He realised that it was now evening. It was very hot. He couldn't find a taxi for some time, and had to walk most of the way back to Tara.

Jackson, at a little distance from the house, approached cautiously. Had Benet returned? No car visible, perhaps in the garage, no. He went up the steps and in at the front door. He walked about. No, Benet had not returned. He became conscious of the terrible exhaustion, how dreadfully tired he was - in the old days he had been able to carry on day and night! He was also very hungry. He went into the kitchen. He went into the larder. He sat down at the table. He ate some bread and b.u.t.ter, he sipped a little white wine from an almost empty bottle in the fridge. He very rarely drank alcohol. Was he celebrating his success with Marian? Ah, but was it a success? He must wait until tomorrow. He thought of ringing Tuan, but that too had better be left till tomorrow. He looked at the unseemly chaos upon the table. He appeared to be dozing. He got up. He would feel better soon. He went into the drawing room and sat down upon the sofa.

Benet left Penndean early in the morning. Yesterday had been hot, today was to be hotter. He had rung Edward on the previous evening 'to cheer him up' but Montague had told him that Edward had gone to London. He rang Edward's London address in the evening and when leaving in the morning but without any answer. He felt depressed and irritated. He had also rung Tuan in the evening, hoping to find someone at home, but Tuan sounded rather confused and hasty, perhaps about to go out. He rang Rosalind who seemed to be rather tearful and incoherent. He rang Anna, but she was out and Bran answered the telephone rather curtly with a French accent, put on, Benet thought. Of course there was no news of Marian.

He reached Tara early, although he had been briefly detained by a queue just entering London. The sun was already becoming extremely hot. He put the car into the garage, then mounted the steps at the door of the house. He opened the door. A waft of loneliness and sadness came to him. He thought of Marian lying dead in some dim rented room, he thought of Anna's wild tears, what did they mean, Rosalind's tears, Edward's awful coldness, his dreadful hatred. 'I hate her now, I hate everybody.' He moved slowly across the hall, peering into the various rooms. He noticed a deplorable disorder in the kitchen and paused. He was increasingly conscious of a rift between himself and Jackson. Who did Jackson think he belonged to anyway? He seemed to be always away, helping everybody but Benet! Perhaps Benet had better 'hand him over'! Benet had purposely refrained from ringing him up, so as to find him out in some sort of ignominy! Benet felt a little ashamed of this, on his part, a lack of trust. But really things were, were they not, going a bit too far! He wandered slowly out of the kitchen, back into the hall.

The sun was s.h.i.+ning, it was very hot, he took his jacket off and undid his s.h.i.+rt. Where was Jackson anyway? Perhaps he was doing something in the garden. He went down, and out of the back door. No sign of Jackson. How beautifully warm and sunny it was. It was early. Perhaps Jackson had gone out shopping. Benet made for the Lodge. The sun was striking the back of his neck, and he put up his hand to protect it. He knocked, then opened the door. Silence. He called out, then entered the kitchen. He was shocked to see upon the table another scene of disorder. Also there was a strange smell. He crossed the kitchen and threw open the door of the bedroom. What he saw appalled him. The little room was in total chaos. The bed dragged about, the mattress visibly dislodged, the sheets hanging down, the blankets tangled in a knot upon the floor. He stood still, breathing deeply, gasping. There was a strange nauseating smell. It looked as if there had been some sort of struggle - animals, or people - fighting - making love - horrified, he closed the door, trying to think. In the kitchen the table seemed to have been for two. What had Jackson been up to in the Lodge? He might have had some, any, woman there. Or a manl Benet quickly moved out into the suns.h.i.+ne. He felt like weeping or shouting. Whatever it was, Jackson had been wantonly deceiving him. How could he have been so idiotic, so wanton, so stupid, as to leave these traces behind! Where was he now, was it possible that he had a man friend? Benet returned to the house. He stood for a while in the hall, trying to work out the senseless madness of the whole situation.

The telephone rang. He rushed to it. It was Anna.

'Oh Benet dear, h.e.l.lo, is there any more news?'

'No, I'm afraid not - of course I'll let you know if there are any developments.'

'You rang Bran, didn't you, I hope he wasn't naughty or - '

'No he was very kind - I've been hurrying about rather.'

'By the way, I wonder if I could have Jackson for tomorrow morning?'

'Yes, I expect so, he's not here at the moment, I'll tell him- in fact, yes, yes, you can have him!'

'Benet, thanks so much, you are an angel, and so is he!'

Benet put the telephone down. Where was Jackson, just when he was desperately needed! 'Oh G.o.d, I feel so tired,' he said aloud. He thought he would go into the drawing room and lie down. He could scarcely walk for tiredness. He pulled himself along, pus.h.i.+ng open the drawing room door, then closing it behind him. He moved toward the mantelpiece dragging his steps. He put his hand on the back of the sofa and moved forward.

Then something dreadful. There was some awful thing upon the sofa. It was a man. It was Jackson.

Benet came round and looked down. Was he dead? No, he was breathing, he looked terrible. He was half clothed, he was fast asleep, and he was apparently drunk.

Benet bent down and sniffed. Yes, drunk, and deeply asleep. He stood there meditating, looking down upon the heavily slumbering man. How utterly wretched he looked, his jacket crumpled up upon the floor, his s.h.i.+rt undone to the waist, his chest showing, he had not shaved, he looked dirty. He was certainly dead asleep. Benet looked down upon his closed eyes, his long eye-lashes, his dark tangled hair, and sighed.

Benet went back into the hall and sat down upon a chair. He put his hands upon his face. He sat there for a while breathing slowly.

At last he reached out and took some paper out of the small table which stood beside the chair, and wrote. What he had written he laid upon the table. He sat still for a while his hands upon his lap, his lips open, his eyes glazed. He fumbled for a large handkerchief in his pocket. He got up quietly and put together some belongings. He left through the front door, closing it gently, and went down the steps. He went to the garage and drove his car out, and returned to Penn. Fortunately there was not much traffic.

Jackson woke up. He had a headache. He lay still for a while. Where was he? He recalled having taken Marian to Cantor. What became of that? He would have to ring up. Better, just go over. He tried to lift his head. Difficult. Yes, Marian had been with him. He began to sit up. The bright sunlight from the tall windows dazzled his eyes. He fell back again. He thought, the mountains, Tim and the mountains. Messages - that was what Tim saw - just at the last moment - when he said - I see, I see.

Jackson sat up and looked about. Where was he, in what place, where? Of course he had been with Marian - he closed his eyes. He opened them again. He was in the drawing room at Tara. He listened. Silence. He tried to get up but fell back. He became conscious of a headache. Why on earth was he in the drawing room, sleeping in the drawing room, with all his clothes on? Well, mostly on. The thought rushed into his head - he must have been drunk! After all he had had no sleep for two days and plenty of extremely tiring things to do! He had been in the kitchen and eaten bread and b.u.t.ter, then that little wine, all the same - just as well no one had seen him sprawled out on the sofa! He stood up carefully, then picked up his coat from the floor. The bright sun was dazzling him, he must get out into the hall. He dropped his coat again and began to tidy up the sofa. He was horrified that he had been drunk, which he hardly ever was. Surely no one had been there, impossible. He went out into the hall, went up the stairs, came down again. He thought, I must tidy up the kitchen. I left it in a mess, what a terrible stupid fool I am! Then he thought, shouldn't I telephone Cantor and find out if it's all OK, she hasn't run away again or something. As he approached the telephone he suddenly saw a sheet of paper with writing upon it lying upon the table. He picked it up. It was from Benet.

Dear Jackson, I returned to find you drunk, sleeping in the drawing room. I am sorry to have to say this, but I need as a butler, helper, man-of-all-trades etc., someone who is constant and reliable, not a drunk, and not likely to be always somewhere else. You must know how much anguish we are all suffering. I also believe you have been disgracefully entertaining a woman in the Lodge which I find most objectionable. Moreover: I agreed that you might occasionally, with my permission, do odd jobs for my friends. It now seems that you are constantly to be found in other people's houses, not in mine. Bluntly, I believe that you have found my establishment rather dull, and found more entertainment elsewhere. There may be some satisfaction, for both of us, that you will have no difficulty in obtaining other employment. I enclose in a nearby envelope your pay for this quarter and for several weeks thereafter. I am now returning to Penn for several days during which you will have time to pack up all your goods and go.

Yours sincerely Benet Barnell Beneath this, in a hasty scrawl, was written: I am sorry. I trusted you.

Jackson folded up the sheet of paper and put it in his pocket. He left the pay envelope where it was. Then he stood motionless, looking down, for some time. Then he sighed deeply. What a senseless blunder. A modest amount of wine combined with two days and nights' constant activity with very little food and without sleep. Of course he was not used to wine. As if that mattered. He uttered a long sobbing sigh. 'I trusted you.' Anyway it was true that he had been for some time away from the house. Any point in trying -? No. He moved away from the table. Then he returned: he could at least telephone Cantor. If only that has not also ended in tears!

He rang. 'h.e.l.lo, is that Cantor!'

'It absolutely is Cantor, and Marian is here, and you are the hero! Won't you come round and see us? You have made us so happy - you really really have - you have rescued us - you must be a magician - wait a moment, Marian -'

'Jackson darling, it's Marian, it's really me, I feel I've been made into some wonderful absolutely new person, I've simply lost my old self, and so quickly, and you did it! It's like a lot of confused rubbish being suddenly jumped about and made into a perfect being, I mean I thought I had destroyed myself -'

'And me, Cantor, - back to Marian.'

'I know I've been awfully bad -'

'No, she hasn't - Cantor again - '

'Yes, yes, but really and truly we might have simply lost each other, I was absolutely broken, hating myself and thinking about suicide -'

'So was I - then you appeared like a G.o.d, dear Jackson -'

'I'm very very pleased,' said Jackson. 'Everyone will be so glad. Will you send the news around, or shall I, or - do you want to keep it quiet for a while -?'

'Well, really we're off to Australia almost at once, aren't we, darling.'

'Yes, dear Jackson, Cantor has finished his business -'

'Youare my business, angel.'

'Anyway we'll be off, and we'd be glad if you would tell them we've gone, but of course we shall come back! They won't murder us, will they?'

'Certainly not,' said Jackson. 'They'll be delighted, they may even come to see you!'

'I expect we've made a bit of a nuisance of ourselves, but they haven't made much fuss of it, have they?'

'No, they haven't, they've been very sensible, they just wanted to know where you were. I mean you, Marian - '

'Of course they don't yet know about me - or do they? I expect they've had other things to do!'

'Jackson, dear heart, I know they must have been bothered at first, but you can tell them that we're sorry to leave so soon -'

'When are you leaving?'

'We're leaving by plane tomorrow - but we'll be here again. I shall write a letter to Benet explaining it all - he's not too bothered is he?'

'Oh no, no - '

'Jackson, do come over here now - '

'No, I can't.' What time is it, he wondered. 'But oh I am so glad - '

'Where are you now, by the way?'

'I'm at Tara. Benet is at Penn.'

'Wait a minute - yes darling, yes - Marian thinks she'd better just telephone from the airport, and write later.'

'Whatever you do,' said Jackson, 'please don't bring me in!'

'But you're the - never mind, all right - Marian will ring - don' t worry - of course we'll write to Benet later on, he's the one, isn't he, he'll forgive us, won't he, we'll both write - '

'Yes,' said Jackson. 'Please both write.'

'Oh - yes, yes - It will be simple, and we'll write to you too - where should we send it to, Tara or Penn?'

Jackson closed his eyes. Oh - dear! He opened his eyes and said, 'Could you direct the letters for me via Tuan, it will be easier, Benet will be away soon and I - Marian will know, she will give you the address -'