The Book And The Brotherhood

he had eaten. They were drinking coffee. He had refused whⁱsky. The preliminaries of their conversation, so much looked forward to by Rose, had been awkward, almost irritable, as though they had both forgotten how to converse. She thought, he's angry with me for having stayed away so long. I hope it's only that.

Gerard looked different. His curly hair was dull and disordered, standing out in senseless directions, like the fur of a sick or frightened animal. His sculptured face, whose fine surfaces usually cohered so harmoniously, looked disunified and angular, even distorted. His mouth was awry, twisted in repose by a twinge of distress or anno^yance. His normally calm eyes were restless and evasive, and he kept turning his head away from Rose in a sulky manner. Sometimes he became still and abstracted, frowning, as if listening. Oh he is ill, he is not himself, thought Rose miserably, but it seemed that she could do nothing now but irritate him.

`You know Duncan's resigned from the office?'

`No.’

`Of course that's since you went away, you've been away such ages. He kept saying he'd resign, and now he's resigned. They're in France now looking for a house.'

`What part?' said Rose.

`I don't know what part!'

`I rang their number, I wanted to see Jean. So they're away. How are they?'

`Very cheerful, not a care in the world.'

`How are Gull and Lily? I hope they're all right.'

`Not very,' said Gerard with an air of satisfaction. 'You know Gulliver ran off to Newcastle? Yes, of course you know that. Lily hasn't heard from him.'

`I expect she thinks he's got a girl up there! I think she should go after him. So you've seen Lily?'

`No, of course not!'

`Perhaps he wants to vanish until he can return <sup>in</sup> triumph `In that case he'll just vanish.'

`But you've seen Tamar?'

`You think I've seen everybody! Actually, I have literally Tamar, but not to talk to. My God, she's sleek, you wouldn't recognise her.'

`What do you mean, 'sleek'?'

`Well, fit, in cracking form.'

`Really – how splendid!'

`I don't know whether it's splendid,' said Gerard, `it doesn't seem real. I think she may be deranged or drugged or something.'

`I could never make out what was the matter with her -.just Violet I suppose.'

`Do you know, I don't think Tamar cared at all – about Jenkin -'

Rose said hastily, to cut off his emotion, 'I'm sure she cared. She's such an odd girl, she conceals things.'

`She's been seeing that priest, your parson.'

`Father McAlister.'

`She's been baptised and confirmed.'

`Good heavens! Well, if it's done her some good -'

`She's been stuffed full of a lot of consoling lies. Gideon's been looking after her too.'

`Gideon?'

`It seems so. I found her round at my – his – house twice lately. Of course I tried to see her, but she wouldn't see me.'

Rose thought, he's furious because Gideon is succeeding where he's failed. I must change the subject. 'Do you find you can work well in Jenkin's house? Are you writing something?'

`No. I'm not going to write – anything. I've decided not to.'

`Gerard!'

`I haven't anything to say. Why write half-baked rubbish just for the sake of writing?'

`But you -'

`Crimond's book is being published by the Oxford University Press. I may be able to get hold of a proof copy from somebody who works there.'

As soon as Crimond's name was spoken it seemed as if the whole conversation had been simply steering towards it. Gerard, who had been looking away, now looked directly at Rose, he flushed and his lips parted, his face expressing a kind of surprise.

`Have you seen Crimond?’

`Of course not.'

As Rose was trying to think of' something suitable to say Gerard got up. 'I must go. I've sold my car, that's another thing that's happened. I'll have to get a taxi. I can walk actually. Thanks for the coffee.'

`Wouldn't you like whisky, brandy?' Rose got up too.

`No, thanks. Rose, I'm sorry to be so – so – hideous.'

Rose wanted to embrace him, but he went away with a wave, without kissing her. The savour of that word hideous remained in the room. Rose could taste it upon her lips. She Ihought, he is sick, he is sick, he is poisoned by those thoughts, by those terrible thoughts.

Gerard, at home in Jerkin's parlour, was feeling wretched because he had not been able to communicate with Rose. He regretted what he had said to her. In conveying his news he had adopted a surly cynical tone, he had sneered at almost everyone he mentioned. He had behaved badly, he had lost his rational reticence, he had been deliberately hostile and hurtful to Rose. He thought, I am not myself, my soul is sick, I am under a curse.

Crimond was the name of the curse which Gerard was under. He could think of nothing and no one else and could not see how this degrading and tormenting condition could change. He thought every day of going to see Crimond, and every day saw how impossible this was. He dreaded seeing thr book in case it was very good, equally in case it was not. Of course he thought continuously about Jenkin, but his mourning had been somehow taken over by Crimond, everything to do with Jenkin was misted over and contaminated by Crimond; and how terrible that was, and how degraded and vile Gerard had become to allow it to happen. Gerard was not even sure by now whether he found it conceivable that Crimond could have murdered Jenkin. It couldn't be true. And yet..Why had Jenkin been there? He said he didn't go to Crimond's house. Crimond must have invited him or lured him. Maybe it was an accident, but had not Crimond somehow made air accident possible, unconsciously as it were? Could this make sense? Another rumour that circulated, and which was men tinned to Gerard by a malicious acquaintance who added that of course he did not believe it, was that Jenkin and Crimond had been lovers, and it was ajealousy killing. This simply could not be true. Jenkin had never been close to Crimond, and would never have concealed anything of such important, from Gerard. He could not believe anything of the sort. And yet, perhaps, might not Jenkin and Crimond, possibly very long ago, have been very close friends or lovers, and would not Jenkin have felt bound to keep this secret? Perhaps there hail been something – and such things can be timeless. Mid Gerard's 'proposal' to Jenkin somehow – not of course by Jenkin telling Crimond – but by some perceptible change in Jenkin's demeanour and plans, imparted to Crimond that `something had happened', even that Jenkin was thinking of leaving his celibate state? Had Jenkin suddenl^y become, in some mysterious way, newly attractive? If' so then in some sense Gerard was responsible forJenkin's death. But this idea, awful as it was, was shadowy, and tortured him less than some very particular images of the hypothetical relationship, however long ago, between Jenkin and Crimond. And then he kept hearing Jenkin's voice, laughing, saying: 'Come live with me and be my love.'

On that day when Jenkin had left Tamar so hurriedly `for an emergency' and had said, 'Stay and keep warm, I'd like to think you were here, stay here till I come back,' Tamar had waited, at first feeling a security in being alone in Jenkin's house, then after a while beginning to feel wretched and lonely and longing for his return. She went into the kitchen and looked into the refrigerator at bread, butter, cheese, she looked at tins of beans in the larder and apples on a dish. It was as if ibr her the food were contaminated, or seen in some future state mouldering away. She could not eat. She lay down on Jenkin's bed, but though she turned on the electric fire the room was cold. She shivered under a blanket, lacking the will to burrow deeper into the bed. The little infinitesimal spark of hope which she had