The Sea, the Sea

mounted on stones inside the dog kennel to be sure that any letters which came would not get wet or blow away. I avoided discussion, since I so much feared to hear Titus announce that he would go over to Nibletts to spy out the land. What if Titus went to Nibletts and did not return? Of course I did not tell the others about Rosina’s crazy boast, which I decided on reflection was intended simply to annoy me. Nor had I stopped thinking about what else she had told me, although I was trying hard to dismiss her from my mind. I hoped she had gone back to London.

Towards the evening of that day I got as far as concluding that if Ben made no move I would do something on the next day: something clarificatory, something decisive; although I could not yet see quite what this liberating move would be. Most probably I would take Hartley and Titus to London. I had waited long enough upon Hartley’s will, and I was beginning to believe that she wanted me to force her. When I felt that I was nearly desperate enough to decide, I felt some relief. But the tomorrow upon which I was to make my decision never, in the form in which I had envisaged it, arrived.

Towards six thirty in the evening the thick blue air seemed to be getting darker and more stifling, although the sun was bravely shining and the sky was unflecked. It was as if the sun were shining through a mist, but a mist made out of the dark blue globules of the sky itself. I remember the lurid impression of that evening, the vivid dark light, the brilliant vibrating colours of the rocks, of the grass on the other side of the road, of Gilbert’s yellow car. There was no breath of wind, not the softest breeze. The sea was menacingly quiet, utterly smooth, glassy, glossy, oily, a uniform azure. Then there were silent flashes, extraordinary lightings up of the whole horizon, like vast distant fireworks or some weird atomic experiment. Not a cloud, not a sound of thunder, just these huge displays of quick silent yellowish-white light.

I had been talking to Hartley, talking about the past, enjoying that thin pure line of easy communication with her which I could persuade myself was becoming deeper and wider. It was true that, so far as we did communicate, the ease of it was exceptional, the flavour unique. Here I could post the banner of my love, hope gradually to convince. Loving her took at this time so intensely the form of pity, compassion, an absolute desire to cherish, to cure; to stir the desire for happiness and to make it grow where it had not been before. To this end I tried cunningly to exclude the idea of a return home, picturing it casually as something now impossible; and meanwhile let Hartley continue to calm herself by an illusion of a return which she would soon see as unthinkable and as something which she no longer wanted. Surreptitiously I increased the pressure and the emphasis. My policy of gradualism had been right and would shortly be confirmed as successful. Hartley went on saying that she must go back to her husband, but she said it fairly calmly and it seemed to me less often and the words sounded emptier.

I left her at last. I did not now bother to lock her door during the day. Her desire to hide, to hide from Gilbert and above all from Titus would keep her effectively enclosed by day. In any case, how far could she run undiscovered? The night despairs were another matter. The front door bell rang. As I came down into the hall I saw the wire quivering just before I heard the bland clangour of the bell in the kitchen. I thought: Ben. And I wondered: alone? I moved to the door quickly and incautiously to forestall my fear. I did not put the door on the chain but opened it wide at once. The man standing outside was my cousin James.

James was smiling, with the calm inane self-satisfied smile which he sometimes put on. He was carrying a suitcase. I could see his Bentley on the road parked next to Gilbert’s Volkswagen.

‘James! What on earth are you doing here!’

‘Have you forgotten? It’s Whit weekend. You invited me.’

‘You invited yourself. And of course I’ve forgotten.’

‘Do you want me to go away?’

‘No-no-come in-for a moment anyway.’

I felt confused, exasperated, profoundly startled. My cousin was always an unnerving portent. His presence in the house would change everything, even the kettle. I could not tolerate or manage James here, I could not continue to run my life with him upon the scene.

He walked in and put down his suitcase, looking around him with curiosity. ‘I like your situation. And that bay with the spherical boulders is quite extraordinary. I came by the coast road of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘That huge rock out in the sea covered with guillemots-you know where I mean?’

‘No.’

‘Haven’t you seen it? It’s-Well, never mind. I see there’s a martello tower. Does that belong to you too?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see the point of this place. What’s the date of the house?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, nineteen hundred, earlier, later. Oh God.’

‘What’s the matter? Look, I’m sorry, I ought to have written to warn you. I tried to ring up but I gather you’re not on the ’phone. I don’t have to stay here, I passed quite a nice-looking hotel a mile or two back-Are you all right, Charles?’

‘Come into the kitchen.’

Because of the weird light it was rather dark in the kitchen. Just as we entered, Gilbert and Titus came in from outside, the strange silent midsummer lightning signalling behind them.

Introductions were inescapable. ‘Oh hello. This is my cousin James who’s just dropped by. Gilbert Opian. And this is a young friend of mine, Titus. There’s no one else here, this is our complement. ’ As I said this I laid my finger as if by accident upon my lips. I hoped it was not too dark for them to see.

‘Titus,’ said James, ‘so you’ve come, good.’

‘What do you mean?’ I said to James. ‘You don’t know him, do you?’

I saw that Titus was staring at James almost as if he recognized him.

‘No, but you mentioned his name to me-remember?’

‘Oh yes-Well, have a drink, James? Before you go.’

‘Thanks, anything. That white wine that’s open.’

‘We drink it with blackcurrant,’ said Titus.

‘Are you his maternal cousin or his paternal cousin?’ asked Gilbert, who liked to get such things straight.

‘Our fathers were brothers.’

‘Charles always pretends to have no family. He’s so secretive.’

Gilbert, affably rolling his eyes, poured out four glasses of wine. He seemed to have lost some weight climbing about on the rocks in his new plimsolls. He looked younger and more relaxed. Titus added the dash of blackcurrant. He was smiling. It was clear that both of them were glad of this diversion, glad to have another person, an untainted outsider, present to talk to, to dilute the atmosphere; glad too perhaps to have an extra fighting man.

‘Yes, you’ve got a very odd and interesting house,’ said James.

‘You don’t feel any bad vibrations?’

James looked at me. ‘Who owned it before?’

‘A Mrs Chorney. I don’t know anything about her.’

‘Can you see the sea from the upper windows?’

‘Yes, but the view’s better from the rocks. I’ll show you if you can spare a minute. What sort of shoes have you got on? It’s a great place for breaking your ankle.’

I wanted to get James out of the house. I hustled him quickly out onto the grass and he followed me a short way over the rocks until we could sit on a warm summit with the sea view. The sea had now changed colour and was a slightly greyish glittering pale azure, crepitating with little movements.

‘How stuffy it is. James, I hope you don’t mind going to that hotel, it’s called the Raven Hotel, and it’s got a lovely outlook over that bay you liked. And you could drive down the coast and look at those seagulls and things. The fact is, I can’t have you because there isn’t another bed. We’re full up. As it is, Titus is sleeping on the floor.’

‘I quite understand the situation.’

You don’t, old cock, thank God, I thought. And I thought, in a minute I’ll take him back to his car.

I looked at my cousin, now vividly revealed in the bright dark light which delineated everything with a fearful clarity. James had carried his glass of wine with him over the rocks and was sipping it with a maddening air of