Iris Murdoch - Under the Net

Her real employment is to be herself, and to this she devotes a tremendous zeal and artistry. Her exertions are directed along the lines suggested to her by women's magazines and the cinema, and it is due simply to some spring of native and incorruptible vitality in her that she has not succeeded in rendering herself quite featureless in spite of having made the prevailing conventions of seduction her constant study. She is not beautiful: that is an adjective which I use sparingly; but she is both pretty and attractive. Her prettiness lies in her regular features and fine complexion, which she covers over with a peach-like mask of make-up until all is as smooth and inexpressive as alabaster. Her hair is permanently waved in whatever fashion is declared to be the most becoming. It is a dyed gold. Women think that beauty lies in approximation to a harmonious norm. The only reason why they fail to make themselves indistinguishably similar is that they lack the time and the money and the technique. Film stars, who have all these, are indistinguishably similar. Magdalen's attractiveness lies in her eyes, and in the vitality of her manner and expression. The eyes are the one part of the face which nothing can disguise, or at any rate nothing which has been invented yet. The eyes are the mirror of the soul, and you can't paint them over or even sprinkle them with gold dust. Magdalen's are big and grey and almond-shaped, and glisten like pebbles in the rain. She makes a lot of money from time to time, not by tapping on the typewriter, but by being a photographer's model; she is everyone's idea of a pretty girl.

Magdalen was in the bath when we arrived. We went into her sitting-room, where the electric fire and the little piles of nylon stockings and silk underwear and the smell of face-powder made a cosy scene. Finn slumped on to the tousled divan in the way she always asked him not to. I went to the bathroom door and shouted 'Madge!'

The splashing ceased, and she said, 'Is that you, Jake?' The cistern was making an infernal noise.

'Yes, of course, it's me. Look, what is all this?'

'I can't hear you,' said Magdalen. 'Wait a moment.'

'What is all this?' I shouted. 'All this about your marrying a bookie? You can't do this without consulting me!'

I felt I was making a passable scene outside the bathroom door. I even banged on the panel.

'I can't hear a word,' said Madge. This was untrue; she was playing for time. 'Jake, dear, do put the kettle on and we'll have some coffee. I'll be out in a minute.'

Magdalen swept out of the bathroom with a blast of hot perfumed air just as I was making the coffee, but dodged straight into her dressing-room. Finn got up hastily from the divan. We lit cigarettes and waited. Then after a long time Magdalen emerged resplendent, and stood before me. I stared at her in quiet amazement. A marked change had taken place in her whole appearance. She was wearing a tight silk dress, of an expensive and fussy cut, and a great deal of rather dear-looking jewellery. Even me expression on her face seemed to have altered. Now at last I was able to take in what Finn had told me. Walking down the road I had been too full of self-concern to reflect upon the oddness and enormity of Madge's plan. Now its cash value was before me. It was certainly unexpected. Madge was used to consort with tedious but humane city men, or civil servants with Bohemian tastes, or at worst with literary hacks like myself. I wondered what curious fault in the social stratification should have brought her into contact with a man who could inspire her to dress like that. I walked slowly round her, taking it all in.

'What do you think I am, the Albert Memorial?' said Magdalen.

'Not with those eyes,' I said, and I looked into their speckled depths.

Then an unaccustomed pain shot through me and I had to turn away. I ought to have taken better care of the girl. This metamorphosis must have been a long time preparing, only I had been too dull to see it. A girl like Magdalen can't be transformed overnight. Someone had been hard at work.

Madge watched me curiously. 'What's the matter?' she asked. 'Are you ill?'

I spoke my thought. 'Madge, I ought to have looked after you better.'

'You didn't look after me at all,' said Madge. 'Now someone else will.'

Her laughter had a cutting edge, but her eyes were troubled, and I felt an impulse to make her, even at this late stage, some sort of rash proposal. A strange light, cast back over our friendship, brought new things into relief, and I tried in an instant to grasp the whole essence of my need of her. I took a deep breath, however, and followed my rule of never speaking frankly to women in moments of emotion. No good ever comes of this. It is not in my nature to make myself responsible for other people. I find it hard enough to pick my own way along. The dangerous moment passed, the signal was gone, the gleam in Magdalen's eye disappeared and she said, 'Give me some coffee.' I gave her some.

'Now look, Jakie,' she said, 'you understand how it is. I want you to move your stuff out as soon as poss, today if you can. I've put all your things in your room.'

She had too. Various objects of mine which usually decorated the sitting-room were missing. Already I felt I didn't live there any more.

'I don't understand how it is,' I said, 'and I shall be interested to hear.'

'Yes, you must take everything,' said Magdalen. 'I'll pay for the taxi if you like.' Now she was as cool as a lettuce.

'Have a heart, Madge,' I said. I was beginning to worry about myself again, and felt a lot better. 'Can't I go on living upstairs? I'm not in the way.' But I knew this was a bad idea.

'Oh, Jake!' said Madge. 'You are an imbecile!' This was the kindest remark she had made yet. We both relaxed.

All this time Finn had been leaning against the door, looking abstractedly into the middle distance. Whether he was listening or not it was hard to tell.

'Send him away,' said Magdalen. 'He gives me the creeps.'

'Where can I send him to?' I asked. 'Where can we either of us go? You know I've got no money.'

This was not strictly true, but I always pretend as a matter of policy to be penniless, one never knows when it may not turn out to be useful for this to be taken for granted.

'You're adults,' said Magdalen. 'At least, you're supposed to be. You can decide that for yourselves.'

I met Finn's dreamy gaze. 'What shall we do?' I asked him. Finn sometimes has ideas, and after all he had had more time to reflect than I had.

'Go to Dave's,' he said.

I could see nothing against that, so I said 'Good!' and shouted after him, 'Take the cases!' for he had shot off like an arrow. I sometimes think he doesn't care for Magdalen. He came back and took one of them and vanished.

Magdalen and I looked at each other like boxers at the beginning of the second round.

'Look here, Madge,' I said, 'you can't turn me out just like that.'

'You arrived just like that,' said Madge.

It was true. I sighed.

'Come here,' I told her, and held out my hand. She gave me hers, but it remained as stiff and unresponsive as a toasting-fork, and after a moment or two I released it.

'Don't make a scene, Jakie,' said Madge.

I couldn't have made even a little one at that moment. I felt weak, and lay down on the divan.

'Eh, eh!' I said gently. So you're putting me out, and all for a man that lives on other people's vices.'

'We all live on other people's vices,' said Madge with an air of up-to-date cynicism which didn't suit her. 'I do, you do, and you live on worse ones than he does.' This was a reference to the sort of books I sometimes translated.

'Who is this character, anyway?' I asked her.

Madge scanned me, watching for the effect.

'His name,' she said, 'is Starfield. You may have heard of him.' A triumphant look blazed without shame in her eye.

Читать дальше