Brian Aldiss - Life in the West

‘Come on up and stop complaining, Deirdre,’ Kaye said, seizing his wife by the arm and dragging her past the Iranian professor. ‘You just encountered another tenant, that’s all.’

‘Tenant plus wolf-hound, thanks. Tom, what on earth are you doing in these squalid surroundings? I need a drink. Plus a tetanus injection.’

They sat Deirdre down in the best-upholstered of Squire’s armchairs, and Kaye tenderly inspected her ankle while Squire poured them all whisky.

‘No ice, I’m afraid,’ he said, handing his sister a glass.

‘Plenty of dog biscuits, I’m sure,’ Deirdre said.

Deirdre was dressed for summer and the city, in a smart spotted dress and jacket in pure silk. She was heavily made up. When she had calmed down slightly, she said, ‘I wondered what had happened. You’ve been so long, Marsh. I had to come and see, little thinking this place doubled as kennels. Here you both are, sitting boozing, while I’ve been stuck with Teresa in the pub.’

‘Also boozing, I hope,’ Squire said.

‘Frankly, your wife is not my favourite company. She’s been a bitch to you, and I don’t mind saying so.’

‘Funny you should say that, Deirdre. Tom was just about to tell me that he is going back to her.’

Deirdre pulled a face and clutched her ankle, as if hoping that injury might excuse her speaking out of turn. ‘There is the Hall and all that to think of. Don’t take any notice of anything I say.’

‘You’re misjudging Tess,’ Squire said. ‘She has her harpylike aspects, but I understand how she feels; her life has been thrown out of kilter. That’s my responsibility, in part at least, unless I kick her out — which I’m not disposed to do. You must help by sympathizing with her position. It is not characteristic of Teresa to get mixed up with little shits like Jarvis.’

His sister took a large gulp of her whisky. ‘Glenfiddich — saved! Tom, you idiot, you don’t have to go through with this goody-goody altruistic stuff for our sake. Be yourself. Kick her out, call up Laura. Laura’s smashing. Obey your impulses. No renunciations. Uncle Willie told you that ages ago.’

Kaye said, ‘You realize we have witnesses to prove that Teresa invited this guy Jarvis up to Pippet Hall on several occasions when you were away. Photographic evidence, as a matter of fact.’

Down in the bowels of the house, bazouki music started again, louder than before. The Greek hairdresser’s evening was hitting its stride. Squire went over to the window and leant against the sill, looking inward at his sister and brother-in-law, arms folded.

‘Everyone’s so involved with their little transient private lives. Perhaps as sucklings of a materialist culture we really do try to possess each other too much. Perhaps we really are flabby and deserve to go under.

‘You come up here and tell me Tess still loves me, Marsh. Now you say you have photographic evidence of her carrying-on. You can’t make up your own mind where you stand. But I’ve made up my mind. Let me quote the Athenians right back at you — “It’s a law of nature to rule whatever you can.” Teresa’s making a fresh approach. So I am going to take her back to the Hall — tonight, if possible. On such good terms as we can contrive.

‘I will try to retain the Hall and my wife. It would be foolish to lose either, just because one primitive part of my brain wants me to get revenge on her for ill- treatment. At the Hall, I can work my best. I have to protect my society, SPA, and to fight for the various things I find myself capable of fighting for. Ermalpa’s taught me that even quite everyday things need to be defended.’

‘Well, you have made up your mind,’ Deirdre said. ‘Seeing you standing there, I can’t help thinking of mother’s old advice to us — “Always look first-rate.” You’re doing your Squire stuff again and being first-rate — I hope it makes you happy.’

‘Well, Deirdre, I am basically pretty happy. I’m puzzled why that’s regarded as such a strange statement these days. Don’t drink any more; take me down to the pub and let me chat with Tess — if she’s still there. We can drive up to Hartisham this evening, if she feels so inclined. She has to behave not too impossibly with me, and recognize herself as a native of Milos, in the capitulating position.’

Deirdre stood up and smoothed down her dress. She made a wry face at Kaye. ‘Life goes on. That’s the silly thing about it.’

‘I’ll put on a sweater,’ Squire said. ‘It’s cooler here than it was in Ermalpa.’

Exotic Iranian odours greeted them as they made their way down the dim stairs. Kaye paused on the landing and looked back at Squire.

‘Tom, I want you to know I respect what you’re doing.’

‘Marsh — don’t go all American on me. Having let my enemy off the hook, I can hardly do less for my wife…’

‘I know it’s not going to be easy for you, Tom. But Teresa’s horoscope said this was a good day for reconciliations, you’ll be glad to know.’ He grinned. ‘Make it all happen.’

‘That’s what’s known as looking for the miraculous.’

Kaye rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Maybe what’s always needed is an act of faith.’

The way to the front door was impeded by push-bikes. In the basement, the Greek barber was singing loudly. Deirdre walked diligently, on the alert for foreign ladies and fat dogs.

Daylight still lingered in the street. Squire, Kaye and Deirdre walked along together. They turned the corner by Mr Ali Khan’s shop.

The Plumes was in front of them, doors open to admit the summer air and emit smoke. The interior looked welcoming, with its oak panels and dim lights. Black men and white, in

T-shirts and jeans, stood out on the pavement, talking and lifting pint mugs of beer to their lips. As Squire approached, he saw Teresa sitting waiting alone inside at a little table, with a drink in front of her. Teresa saw Squire.

She waved. The smile that accompanied the flutter of the hand was hesitant. She had a new hair-style.

He waved in response. He knew, as he entered the lighted space and became merged with the bustle of early evening drinkers, that Teresa — and Deirdre, and he, and everything of which they were a part — were changed. Things would never be as they had been; that must be accepted.

Even to speak to her, so familiar, so loved for all she was and symbolized, a new language was required.

‘How was Ermalpa?’ Teresa asked, as he sat down beside her, looking at him slightly squint.

Copyright © 1980 by Brian W. Aldiss.

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