Barbara Vine - The Minotaur

‘Was John normally dull and lethargic?’

‘I don't think so. No, he wasn't. He did puzzles, played word and number games, you know the sort of thing. Of course he could never work and there was no question of university. For one thing he would never answer questions and never ask them. I think they'd say now that he'd lost his hold on reality if he ever had any and he never showed the least emotion. Is he like that now?’

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘No, he's not like that now. He's – well, nothing now.’

She showed me some photographs, two of her and Zorah as teenagers, Zorah's hooked nose and spots the way they were in the picture on the piano, then one of a thinner and livelier-looking John with Zorah and Ella, but they told me nothing I didn't already know.

The album was put away and I said, ‘Now tell me what happened to the maze.’

‘What do you mean, what happened to it?’

‘Where is it? What is it?’

‘I'm amazed they haven't told you. It's in that wing of the house that leads off to the right from the hall.’

I asked her if she meant it was inside the house.

She laughed. ‘It's the library. The door's at the end of that passage and it's the biggest room in the house.’

Double doors faced me. First looking over my shoulder in a guilty way, I tried the handles but both doors were locked. Through the empty keyhole, I could see nothing except a kind of uneven darkness. I turned away and went out into the sunshine, noticing for the first time that the windows at that end of the house were entirely overgrown by Virginia creeper. Someone, perhaps the gardener, had cleared the others but the ones I thought must be those of the labyrinth library were hidden under blinds of shiny green leaves. Even close observers would think they were looking at windowless walls.

But the doors were locked. It wouldn't have been beyond my ingenuity to find the key. After all, it surely wasn't a dark secret. The motive for locking it up must have been that in the 1960s the books were of no possible interest to anyone. If it were opened, it would have to be cleaned, as would the other locked rooms along the passage. Mrs Lilly already grumbled enough about the work expected of her. Therefore, I thought it unlikely I would be refused a key provided I guaranteed to lock the door again after I had seen the place. But something stopped me asking. These ‘somethings’ were coming to me quite a lot, warning voices really, telling me, ‘Better not’ and ‘Leave it for now’, though I had never before experienced premonitory cautioning with no apparent reason for it.

My hope of entry lay with Ella. Along with her overtures of friendship, she had said she would show me the library ‘some time’, yet had looked suspicious when I showed enthusiasm. I decided to try to let the suggestion come from her, perhaps in reply to a request for more books, as I would soon have exhausted her small collection.

Eric paid us a visit in the evening, driving Winifred home from wherever she had been. Sherry was brought out in his honour and, longing for the privacy of my room, the diary and The Woman in White , which I had just begun reading, I said I would leave them, but Mrs Cosway, for some reason, insisted I stay. Winifred, who had been presiding at something called the Women's Prayer Group, was in a highly nervous state about the dinner she was to prepare the following Friday. She wished she had never undertaken to do it and it was now impossible to get out of. Eric, true to the form she had claimed for him and having forgotten this engagement of hers, had invited Felix Dunsford to the Rectory for what he modestly called ‘a simple evening meal’ on Friday night. He had been relying on Winifred to do the cooking and hence her dilemma. Moreover she said she disliked Felix, his appearance, his manner and his attitude to herself. What on earth had possessed Eric to invite him?

‘I rather like him,’ said mild Eric. ‘Besides, he comes to church, which is more than you can say for most people.’

‘You mean he's been once,’ said Winifred. ‘He came to mock.’

‘I'm sure you're wrong there, my dear. He knew the liturgy, he sang the hymns. I do notice these things, you know.’

‘You couldn't help it, the way he planted himself in a front pew. And, you know, that isn't done in country churches.’

‘I don't in the least mind its being done in mine. It's most unfortunate you can't be there when he comes. You'll prepare something for us in advance, won't you?’

This gave rise to a small explosion. Surely she had enough worries with this dinner preying on her mind? Why could a man not learn to cook? It was very hard on her, having so much to do. He should remember the catering she did was earning her living .

‘I shall console myself,’ said Eric, ‘with the thought that once we are married you won't have to earn your living.’

A much larger explosion this time. I doubt if the term ‘sexist’ had been invented then but that was the word Winifred would have used if it had. ‘What makes you think I'm going to give up my profession when I'm married? I never said so. You've never mentioned it before.’

‘I took it for granted. Any man would.’

‘I know dozens of men who wouldn't, hundreds. A lot of men would be delighted their wives work. I can't get things ready for you on Friday and that's flat. You'll have to take him into Sudbury or somewhere to a restaurant.’

At this point Mrs Cosway, who looked as if she was enjoying all of it, poured Eric more sherry without asking him if he wanted it. I suppose she thought he needed refuelling. Ella had so far listened in silence, with a little smile on her face.

‘Why not bring Mr Dunsford here?’ she said.

‘That means Ida has to do it.’ I had never known Winifred show any consideration for her elder sister before.

‘Not at all. I will. I can cook, though no one seems to know it.’

‘Be thankful they don't.’ Ida spoke with unusual bitterness. ‘You might have to take on my job.’

‘I? I'm a breadwinner in case you haven't noticed. I have a real and very valuable career. I'm not messing about cooking fancy dishes for stockbrokers.’

One of their acrimonious rows developed, Winifred insisting almost tearfully that she could only do what she was trained for and Ella saying it was such a drawback to have no ‘real’ qualifications. But when she had vanquished Winifred she repeated her offer and Eric accepted.

‘I quite like the look of Felix Dunsford,’ she said with that irritating little smile.

‘If that means you're after him,’ said Winifred, ‘you want to be careful. I see him as a dangerous man.’

This led to Eric, presumably trying to calm things down, quoting tediously from Shakespeare a passage about someone thinking too much and therefore being very dangerous. Winifred shook her head slowly, Ella smiled, while Mrs Cosway had closed her eyes and appeared to be asleep. Going up to my room and the diary, I wondered why Eric wanted to marry Winifred, why he would want to marry at all; and since she very obviously was not in love, why she wanted to marry him. Since then I have learnt that people marry for status, for security, for escape, because they have got into it and would find it very awkward and embarrassing to get out of, and of course for money. Besides, there was always the Bishop's cautionary advice to Eric, as relayed by Ella, that he should find himself a wife.

What happened later would possibly have happened whether Felix Dunsford had been asked to Lydstep or not. Yet I am not sure. They could have met him in church. The kind of functions and meetings Winifred and Ella attended were shunned by him, the pub and a shady club outside Sudbury being the kinds of places he preferred. So would they have met him again? Or would Winifred's encounter with him when she told him off about his clothes have been the only one?