Glittering Images (36 page)

‘That’s me,’ I said.

‘Possibly, but don’t rush to judgement. Now I think you’d also agree that sexual frustration can afflict even those called to celibacy because in both types of churchman the determining factor in their choice between a married and a celibate life isn’t always the strength of the sexual drive.’

‘Think of St Augustine,’ I murmured.

‘Think indeed of St Augustine, a celibate who admitted to a strong sexuality. The point I’m making, Charles, is that the urgency of your present sexual inclinations isn’t necessarily an indication that you’re not fundamentally called to celibacy, and the question I’d now like to ask you is why, at this particular stage of your life, are you having sex? Is it just to scratch the familiar itch or are there more complex reasons?’

‘You’re remembering that I likened the sex with Loretta to shots of morphia. You’re thinking that I might be using sex merely to escape from my problems.’

Darrow said, ‘If you are indeed using sex in that way, the danger is that marriage may not solve your problems but compound them. That’s why we must be so cautious when considering your mysterious ambivalence about remarriage. Are you in truth suited for the domestic life? Might you be able to serve God better as an unmarried man? These are questions which should be carefully considered if we’re to reach an accurate assessment of your difficulty here.’

‘I see the point you’re making, Father, but the fact remains that I’ve been a married man and I know beyond doubt that marriage can help me to pray better, work harder and maintain a much steadier spiritual life. At present I’m hopelessly erratic and subject to distraction.’

‘All right, so be it; I accept that you’re not abstaining from marriage because of a call to celibacy which your private problems are preventing you from recognizing. Now, having established that you do need a wife in order to serve God best, let’s probe a little deeper into the mystery of why you can’t reach the altar.’ He paused and then looking straight at me with his very clear grey eyes he said, ‘Tell me, Charles, who’s the one who wants to get married?’

The question was so bizarre that I could only stare at him in silence.

‘After all,’ said Darrow, ‘we mustn’t forget, must we, that there are two of you.’

I grappled with the implications of this statement for some time but again he made no attempt to hurry me and at last I was able to say, ‘It’s the glittering image who wants to get married.’

‘He’s keen to marry the perfect wife and live happily ever after, just as a model clergyman should?’

‘
I’m
keen to marry the perfect wife and live happily ever after, just as a model clergyman should.’

‘You’re the glittering image?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well, but what about your other self? Let’s hear again what he thinks about remarriage.’

‘Yes, I mentioned his attitude the other day, didn’t I? He doubts that it’s possible for him to marry and live happily ever after because he’s so unfit and unworthy that no woman could cope with him. Except Lyle.’

‘Yet Lyle, in some mysterious way, is unavailable for marriage. Is it just a coincidence, do you think, that of the two women in your life at present, one is an independent woman uninterested in matrimony and the other seems determined not to become deeply involved with you?’

Again I had to take time to think but eventually I said: ‘It’s no coincidence. It’s part of a recurring pattern. For some years now I’ve only been attracted to women who aren’t available for marriage to a clergyman.’ I was unable to stop myself adding, ‘Does that sound quite insane?’

‘Not in the least,’ said Darrow serenely. ‘It’s most sensible of your other self to take stringent precautions against remarriage if he feels such a step would be a disaster.’ He paused before adding: ‘It sounds as if he’s very much afraid of this potential disaster.’

After a long silence I managed to nod.

‘This must be a great burden for your other self. Has he been carrying it long?’

‘Seven years.’

‘He must be exhausted. Has he never been tempted to set down the burden by telling someone about it?’

‘I can’t,’ I said.

‘Who’s “I”?’ said Darrow.

‘The glittering image.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Darrow, ‘and of course that’s the only Charles Ashworth that the world’s allowed to see, but you’re out of the world now, aren’t you, and I’m different from everyone else because I know there are two of you. I’m becoming interested in this other self of yours, the self nobody meets. I’d like to help him come out from behind that glittering image and set down this appalling burden which has been tormenting him for so long.’

‘He can’t come out.’

‘Why not?’

‘You wouldn’t like him or approve of him.’

‘Charles, when a traveller’s staggering along with a back-breaking amount of luggage he doesn’t need someone to pat him on the head and tell him how wonderful he is. He needs someone who’ll offer to share the load.’

I considered this metaphor with care.

‘Think of me as the porter,’ said Darrow, ‘and consider the possibility that life might be less exhausting if you unloaded some of your bags on to my empty trolley.’

I considered this extension of the metaphor with even greater care. Finally I said, ‘Where do I start?’

‘We need to go back seven years, I think, to that time when the burden claimed you. Can you say what happened seven years ago or is it too difficult? If it’s too difficult at present we can leave it and talk of something else.’

After a long moment I managed to say, ‘My wife died. Seven years ago. She died.’

‘Ah yes,’ murmured Darrow and waited, but my glittering image only said with composure, ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.’

‘Nothing at all?’

‘No, I’ve already told you, haven’t I, how terrible it was when she died, and obviously I’m still affected by my grief. It’s as if I don’t want to risk involving myself with anyone else who might die and cause me so much pain.’

‘I can quite understand that,’ said Darrow, ‘but isn’t the grief in any way alleviated by the memory of the years you had together before she died?’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said at once. ‘We loved each other very much and had three years of perfect happiness.’

‘No clouds in the sky?’

‘None at all.’

Darrow merely said, ‘You mentioned your wife was pregnant when she died. Had she been pregnant long?’

‘No, she’d only just found out.’

‘I see. And you’d been married three years. That must surely have been a considerable strain for you both.’

‘Strain?’

‘Wondering month after month why no child came.’

I got up and walked out of the room.

‘Childless husbands and wives fall easily apart.’

Letters of Herbert Hensley Henson
Bishop of Durham 1920–1939
ed.
E. F. BRALEY.

I went to the bathroom and sat for a minute on the edge of the bath. When I had myself completely in control I returned to my room and found Darrow was still sitting at the table but I gave him no chance to speak. Immediately I said, ‘My marriage is of no significance in this context and I don’t want to waste your time talking of matters which are of no significance. I know it’s ridiculous that I haven’t remarried, but all I have to do is to pull myself together and behave sensibly.’ As I spoke I was moving around the room, pausing by the bedside table, picking up the Bible, flicking through the pages. The various books streamed past my fingers: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua –

‘Obviously you’d prefer to resume this conversation later,’ said Darrow, rising to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to unwind.’

‘You completely misunderstand!’ I said annoyed. ‘You’re thinking I can’t go on but I can – of course I can! And I don’t need to unwind – I’m not wound up!’

‘Then why are you pacing around like a lion at the zoo?’

I bit back the exasperated blasphemy, smothered the impatient obscenity and flung myself down in my chair again. Darrow too resumed his place but although I waited for his next question he merely embarked on a minute examination of his Abbot’s ring until at last I was driven to demand, ‘Why don’t you say something?’

‘I was waiting for you to talk to me.’

‘But I’ve nothing to say!’

‘Very well, we’ll sit in silence.’

I leant forward and tugged at his sleeve to stop him examining the ring. Then I said, ‘I want to go on but I can’t unless you ask questions.’

Darrow immediately reverted to his usual close attentiveness. ‘Let’s leave your wife for the moment,’ he said, ‘and talk about these ineligible women who have been attracting you since her death. In what way were they unsuitable for a clergyman?’

‘They were divorced or separated or agnostic – or if they weren’t agnostic they were vague Deists like Loretta.’

Darrow said casually, ‘Did you sleep with any of them?’

I was appalled. ‘Good heavens, no, of course not! Word would have got around – it would have ruined my career, my whole future – I couldn’t possibly have had sex with any of them!’

Darrow said, ‘Who’s “I”?’

I was silenced.

‘We know for a fact,’ said Darrow, ‘that someone called Charles Ashworth has indeed had sex recently with one of these ineligible women, a vague Deist called Loretta Staviski.’

‘That wasn’t me.’

‘So it was your other self who made love to Loretta. But how does he normally manage if he finds chastity difficult?’

After a pause I said: ‘He goes abroad. Holidays. Always abroad. Loretta was an exception because when I’m at home I usually succeed in keeping him locked up.’

‘And at the end of these holidays abroad there’s always confession to a foreign priest?’

‘Of course! Confession, repentance, absolution … well, I couldn’t have gone on otherwise, could I? And I must go on because nothing must stand between me and my calling. Unless I serve God in the Church my life would be entirely meaningless so it would be quite wrong, wouldn’t it, if my longing to serve Him was frustrated just because someone unfit and unworthy who isn’t me at all commits an error every now and then.’

‘Tell me,’ said Darrow, ‘were you never able to discuss with Father Reid these difficulties caused by your other self?’

‘Oh, but I couldn’t! Dear old Father Reid, he liked me and approved of me so much and I couldn’t bear the thought of disillusioning him.’ I hesitated but added firmly: ‘It would have been cruel.’

Darrow said, ‘And what about Dr Lang, who clearly also likes you and approves of you? Did you ever confide in him or did you decide that too would have been cruel?’

I looked at him closely but saw no trace of an irony which would hint at either incredulity or condemnation. With care I said: ‘I was chaste when I worked for Lang.’

‘I realize that, but what about the time before your ordination when you were already very much Lang’s protégé? Were there no wild oats sown during your Varsity years?’

‘But I couldn’t possibly have told Lang about that! It would have meant the end of his patronage – he wouldn’t have liked and approved of me any more!’

‘Charles, would I be reading too much into your remarks if I deduced that liking and approval are very important to you?’

That was an easy question to answer. Well, of course they’re important!’ I exclaimed. ‘Aren’t they important to everyone? Isn’t that what life’s all about? Success is people liking and approving of you. Failure is being rejected. Everyone knows that.’

‘We’ll stop there,’ said Darrow.

‘Success means happiness,’ I said, ‘and that’s why I’m in fact such a happy person despite these little troubles which are bothering me at the moment. I’ve always been so successful – a wonderful career, a wonderful marriage –’

‘We’ll talk again this afternoon,’ said Darrow. ‘The weather looks as if it might clear up. We might talk in the herb-garden.’

‘I must apologize for making such a stupid exhibition of myself this morning,’ I said as the scent of the herbs floated towards us on the mild air. ‘Of course I realized as soon as you left that I’d behaved like a lunatic.’

‘You were a little irritable, certainly, but I saw no signs of lunacy.’

‘What about all that mad switching about between the two personalities?’

‘You were speaking of very difficult matters and I was encouraging you.’ Darrow was quite unruffled. ‘It was I, not you, remember, who brought the concept of the two personalities into the conversation in the hope that it would bring us closer to the truth.’

I relaxed. ‘Nevertheless,’ I said, ‘I was a fool to pretend my marriage was all sunlit perfection because I’m sure that aroused your scepticism. After all, you’ve been married yourself; you must know very well that even in the happiest of marriages there can occasionally be a dark corner or two.’

There was a pause while I gripped the arm of the garden seat with my left hand and groped for my cross with my right. Then Darrow said idly: ‘When did the first dark corner appear in your marriage?’