Brian Aldiss - Life in the West

‘Really, Mother? You surprise me. Historians regard the twenties as a period of noted licence, if not licentiousness. Twenties, forties, sixties, the even-numbered decades, all periods of so-called low morals, separated by outbreaks of so-called morality.’

She smiled placatingly at him.

‘Well, whatever it is, I think it’s all wrong. You’ve only to read the papers. They’re full of it. Something’s gone wrong with the nation. People don’t know their places any longer. All your encouragement of these so-called arts doesn’t help, either. You should know better in your position. I don’t blame you especially, Tom, but don’t you think all this dreadful rock and roll demoralizes young people? When Ernest and I got married all those years ago, we started out with such high hopes. We worked hard, we went to church, we kept ourselves properly to ourselves… No, oh, England has become — well, I feel it is hostile, I don’t recognize it. Some mornings I feel the world’s going to collapse. Now you and Teresa…’

She left the sentence dangling, as being too dreadful to finish.

He regarded her with sympathy. ‘I feel just the opposite. But perhaps the instability of the world was demonstrated to me rather early in life. I think everything’s all right, despite the newspapers. It’s true we confuse material and moral values. It’s true husbands and wives fall out. It’s true the divorce rate is going up and the birth rate down. It’s true there is a quality we call evil in individuals, which gets magnified by theories and ideologies which have power to rule our common sense. But still humans aren’t bad, and we’re rather lucky to be living together on this snug little planet. Your announcing your engagement to Uncle Willie makes us all feel even luckier.’

Mrs Davies pursed her lips. ‘I don’t understand you, Tom. How you can be so happy away from your wife, I don’t understand. You used to be so loving. Make it up with her this evening — to please Willie and I.’

Squire took a judiciously deep drink of his champagne.

Mrs Davies set her glass down on a side-table, among small silver objects, resting her ringed and wrinkled hand over it. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening. But then, you always were a mystery to me. You’re so intellectual, I suppose. Then there was that rather unpleasant business in Yugoslavia you were involved in — I never could understand that. And I remember when you got married you insisted on having that red Aga installed, whereas poor Teresa had set her heart on a white one. She’s not happy either. Her business is going wrong — she and her partner are in trouble, and I know she owes lots of money all over the place, even New York. Isn’t New York bankrupt, too? I don’t pretend to understand these things, and she won’t confide in me any more. I even have to feed the dog.’

As if the word had been a signal, two enormous spaniels, liver and white, burst into the room. They made straight for Mrs Davies, springing on her with the mindless abandon of their kind. As her hand was knocked, the champagne glass went flying, to finish in pieces against the wall. She lay back on the sofa with her hands before her face, and the dogs trampled over her as if over a small muddy hill. Belinda appeared among them, dragging them off by their collars and cursing them cheerfully.

‘Oh, you canine delinquents! Mrs Davies, how can I say how sorry I am? I hope you like dogs. They were shut in the back hall, weren’t you, you bums, and they made a spirited dash for companionship, freedom and you, not necessarily in that order. Would you like something to eat?’

Willie appeared chivalrously to assist his bride-to-be, the broken glass was cleared, the dogs were returned to captivity, more champagne was poured, and, as the fuss died down, Squire managed to deflect his uncle into Ron Broadwell’s study.

‘I should have written you a note, my dear Tom, but you have been rather elusive. I do hope our news doesn’t come as too much of a shock? Madge is a good woman.’

‘Not at all, no.’

‘We’re going to stay in town tonight. At Brown’s. Haven’t stayed at Brown’s for years. It’s still very comfortable. Separate rooms, of course.’

‘Of course. Now, Uncle, I want a little plain talk with you. Perhaps I’ve been rather slow on the uptake — ’

Willie looked unhappy. ‘Do we have to talk personally, Tom? After all, it is New Year’s Eve. Doesn’t your publisher have a telly?’

Squire stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘My present position is unsatisfactory. I cannot endure it much longer. My life is no life. I’m in a grey area. I shall be under general scrutiny, no use pretending otherwise, when the “Frankenstein” series starts its run at the end of February; the gossip columnists are after me already. You know all about Teresa’s and my situation — and about Laura Nye. Well, in case you didn’t know it, I renounced Laura as promised. I did so in September, three months ago.’

Uncle Willie had become cautious and took refuge behind his pipe. He sat down on the arm of a chair, adopting a lawyer-like attitude.

‘October, the way I heard it.’

Making an impatient gesture in the air, Squire said, ‘October, then, for God’s sake! That’s still two months ago, Uncle. Whenever it was, I renounced her. I loved Laura, Uncle, and she loved me.’

‘You’re your father’s son, Tom. She was half your age.’

‘And you’re getting married again in your bloody seventies. Try to understand. It was real. And I gave it up for Teresa’s sake.’

The older man shook his head. ‘In my experience, no good ever comes of renunciations. No good at all. They have a reputation for being noble, and I suppose it’s made you feel noble. But my experience in law has shown me that renunciations lead only to bad blood and recrimination, often over years.’

The words took Squire by surprise. He sat down opposite his uncle.

‘Anger, disappointment, a trail of disaster,’ Willie said. ‘Sorry.’

‘Very well, Uncle, I am angry, I am disappointed. Laura gave me a great deal — qualities I don’t get elsewhere. I admit, I have admitted to Teresa, that I was in the wrong. I feel very bad about it. Yet Teresa still plays difficult, still will not come back. Do you know why not because, if so, I want to know too.’

Willie chewed his lower lip and looked embarrassed. ‘My dear Tom, Madge and I now naturally want you two youngsters back together again more than ever. You must understand that, and it’s more than sentiment. There’s the fate of the Hall and everything — ’

‘I don’t wish to talk about the Hall. Answer my question, please. What is Teresa playing at?’

‘Don’t start bullying me. That won’t help, just because you’ve messed up your affairs.’

‘Give me a straight answer, then. Madge has just told me that Teresa’s business is virtually bankrupt, and that she and her partner are broke. All news to me — bad news. I didn’t even know she had a partner. Who is it? Who’s the partner?’

‘I thought you knew.’ Evasively.

‘Who is it? I’m asking you.’

‘Look, Tom, keep your voice down. Oughtn’t we — ’

‘Who’s the partner, Uncle. Tell me. Not her mother?’

‘Vernon Jarvis, of course.’

‘Who’s Vernon Jarvis?’

‘You know who Vernon Jarvis is. You’ve met him. Teresa told me you’d met him.’

‘Jarvis? Christ, that little sod whose brother wanted to run in Moscow. Yes, he sneaked into the Hall once, one morning, shortly after I got back from Singapore. I bumped into him in the passage… Uncle, are you telling me that that fellow is screwing my wife? Is that what’s going on? Jarvis?’

Uncle Willie rose, put his pipe down and started shaking his head and rolling his eyes. ‘Tom, Tom, don’t get excited. You must already know all this. Why ask me? It’s none of my business, only what I’ve heard from Madge. Why pretend not to know? First you were away, then you went off and gave him a clear field.’