Jackson's Dilemma (23 page)

 

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 butter, 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 shining, it was very hot, he took his jacket off and undid his shirt. 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 sunshine. 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, hello, 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
God,
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, pushing 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 shirt 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 butter, 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.

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. ‘Hello, 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
god,
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 -’

‘You
are 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 -’

‘Who’s Tuan? It’s a lovely name -’

‘Look, my dears, I must stop, I’ll think of you both tomorrow up in the air - ’

‘But you
will
come, my dear brother, won’t you, and we’ll be back — ’