The Book And The Brotherhood

`Where's Duncan?'

`He's at the office,' said Jean. 'He'll be sorry to miss you. You must come again some evening soon when he's in. Please sit down and tell me how you are.'

Tamar sat down on the sofa near the fire and Jean sat opposite to her, experiencing the relief of one who, suddenly aware of another's troubles, forgets her own.

`Is Oxford term over? I'm so sorry, of course you've left Oxford. You've been ill?'

`Yes.'

`But you're better now? How is the job going? I believe you're back at work?'

`Yes. The job's all right.'

`Do let me give you something, coffee, sherry, biscuits?' `No, thanks. Did Duncan tell you about me?'

`About your illness? No. But you'll tell me.'

`He didn't tell you?'

`Well – no – what do you mean?'

`Then I'd better tell you as he's bound to later.'

`Whatever are you talking about?' said Jean.

`Duncan and me – we had a love affair.'

`What?'

`Well, not a love affair, we had one night – not a night, an evening – one evening – and then I got pregnant – well, he doesn't know that, at least I think he doesn't unless it's got round – I didn't tell anyone of course, but Lily Boyne knows I expect she's let it out, she's the sort of person who would -' Tamar uttered these words in a sing- song matter-of fact rather irritated tone, looking here and there in the room as she spoke. At intervals she grimaced quickly and screwed up her eyes as at a spasm of pain.

`Wait a moment,' said Jean. Jean had immediately collected herself. She smoothed down her dress and folded her hands. She felt clear-headed and icy cold. 'Tamar, is this true? You're not imagining anything? You have been ill, you know.' can did not believe that Tamar was suffering from delusions, he simply wanted to check her and make her speak more plainly.

`Oh, it's true,' said Tamar, still in her nervous and rather dreamy manner. 'I wish it wasn't. Only one night – evening and I became pregnant. Wasn't that strange.'

`But you can't have done – Duncan can't -'

'Oh yes he can, believe me!' This was uttered ⁱⁿ a sudden aggressive, almost raucous voice.

'You must be mistaken – are you pregnant?'

'No, it's gone, it's gone, I had it taken away.'

'Tamar, m^y dear, please, I'm not angr^y with ^you -'

'I don't care if you are,' said Tamar, 'I'm far beyond that,'

'You say you got rid of the child?'

'I had an abortion-double quick-it's gone-don't worry -'

'Will you please tell me this story right from the beginning. When did it start? You say you had a love affair?'

'No, I didn't -well, I said so, but that doesn't describe it it all happened in a moment, just on that one occasion – I was trying to help, to help – I came to be kind to him – then I felt I loved him – and he was so unhappy he took me to bed -just for a, perhaps, an hour – he regretted it later.'

'How do you know?'

'He avoided me, he never spoke to me properly again.'

'You never told him you were pregnant?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because it was my business,' said Tamar savagely. 'Are you sure the child was his?'

Tamar was silent for a moment, and cast one quick fierce look at Jean, whom she had not looked at since she entered the room. 'So you think I go to bed with lots of men, that I'm always doing it, perhaps every night?'

'I'm sorry. I'm very surprised by all this. I've got to get it clear.'

'I'm making it clear. Do you think I'd lie about the most important thing that ever happened to me? Did Duncan tell you?'

'No. But, Tamar, the child -'

'It's gone, it's dead.'

'We would have adopted it.'

Tamar jumped to her feet. She stood for a moment with her mouth open and her head awkwardly on one side, one shoulder raised. Then she screamed. It was a loud deliberate scream, like a call. She picked up her coat and stood holding it. She in an odd high-pitched voice, 'How very kind of you. But it was my child, mine to kill if I wanted to. I wasn't going to give it to you to love. It might as well have had no father. It was mine. I didn't need your permission! Everything was arranged for you, so that you and Duncan would be together, that's what everyone wanted, that's why they wanted me to go and see Duncan, as if I were your servant or your maid or something. was supposed to help, and that was what happened, so I could tell nobody in case it spoilt your thing, and now you're back wid I had to come and see you because I liked you so much Once and I thought you knew, and I've been in hell -'

Please,' said Jean, 'please be calm – sit down -' Tamar's tysterical vibrating voice and what she had just said frightened Jean very much. The odd thing, and Jean reflected on this afterwards, was that when Tamar began her revelation Jean had taken the situation in instantly and had felt, in the midst of shock and dismay, a kind of pleasure at the idea that Duncan was to blame for something, that his life was imperfect too, he had deceived her and did not yet know that she knew. The sense of a mortal wound came later, her jealousy, her sense of Tamar's pain and, worse still, of Tamar's power to hurt. And then the lost child with its long revenge.

Tears were now streaming down Tamar's face. She stood holding her coat and her handbag. At one moment she mopped her face with her dangling coat sleeve. She uttered a 1ow moaning sound as she wept.

Jean, near to tears herself, but still relentlessly controlled, Maid, 'Listen, Tamar, don't tell anyone else about this. It's better to keep quiet. I won't tell anyone.' Except Duncan, she thought. Or shall I not tell Duncan, never tell Duncan?

'I don't care who knows now,' Tamar waited, 'I don't care about anything now. Oh it was so stupid of me to come here, I had to find out whether you knew, and now I've told you and you didn't know -'

'You did right to tell me.' Jean did not try to stop Tamar who was making for the door. 'My dear – come back again soon – we'll talk again.'

`No, we won't. I hate you. I loved Duncan, I loved him -you left him and made him so unhappy – and now all this has happened and I'm ruined, my life is ruined, and I killed my child, and it's all your doing.'

`Tamar!'

`I hate you!'

She had opened the door and fled through it, carrying her coat and her bag. The door banged shut in Jean's face. Jean did not try to follow. She sat down and began to cry over the terrible damage, not yet assessed, which had been done.

It was Friday morning. Tamar was with Jenkin.

Jenkin had been up late on Thursday night. He had rushed round to Marchment's house in a state of wild excitement because Marchment had said that someone was going to lend him a typescript of part of Crimond's book. This promised treat did not materialise, but Jenkin then spent half the night arguing with Marchment and his friends. For some time nowt ever since what Gerard ruefully called the 'arraignment', when Crimond had announced that it was finished, Jenkin's desire to see the book had been increasing until it was almool as if he were in love