Iris Murdoch - Under the Net

While I was thinking these thoughts a little stream was running softly somewhere in my mind, a little stream of reminiscence. What was it? Something was asking to be remembered. I held the book gently in my hands, and followed without haste the course of my reverie, waiting for the memory to declare itself. I wondered idly why Sadie should possess a copy of the book. It was not the sort of thing which could conceivably interest her. I turned to the beginning and looked inside the cover. The name written there was not Sadie's but Anna's. I looked at it for a moment, still holding the book very gently, and the memory that I had been seeking took hold of my whole consciousness with the force of a hurricane.

What the piece of dialogue had been trying to remind me of were the words which Anna had uttered at the Mime Theatre; the words which I had felt were not her own. They were not her own. They were Hugo's. They were an echo, a travesty, of Hugo, just as my own words were an echo and a travesty of him. When I had heard Anna speak it had not occurred to me to connect what she said with the real Hugo; and when I had thought about Hugo I had not been reminded of Anna. It was my own wretched copy of Hugo's attitude which suddenly made clear to me the source from which Anna too must have derived the principles which she spoke of, and of which the theatre itself was an expression. It did not occur to me to imagine that Anna could have got her ideas from my book. The book was not a strong enough or a pure enough instrument to impress so simple and unspeculative a mind as Anna's. There was no doubt about it. Anna's ideas were simply an expression of Hugo in a debased medium, just as my own ideas were such an expression in yet another medium; and the two expressions, in a curious way, had striking points of resemblance to each other rather than to the original.

My head was spinning. I replaced the book and leaned back against the shelves. I had a sense of everything falling into place to make a pattern which I had not yet had the time to survey. So Hugo was acquainted with Anna. There was no reason in nature why he should not be, since he knew Sadie. But the thought of Hugo knowing Anna was new to me and profoundly disturbing. I had always taken care to insulate very carefully that part of my life which concerned Hugo. I had first met Anna before I had parted from Hugo, though it was after this that I had come to know her well. I had spoken to her of Belfounder, rather vaguely, as someone whom I had used to know a little, before he became so grand. I probably gave her the impression that Hugo had dropped me. As for the book, I had never shown her a copy, or mentioned it to her except as a piece of juvenilia and something of no interest at all. I always referred to it as if it had been published many years before and already buried and forgotten.

A cloud of questions buzzed about me. When had Anna obtained the book? How much did she know of my treacherous behaviour to Hugo? What was the significance of the Mime Theatre? What were the relations between Hugo and Anna? What things might they not have said to each other about myself? I covered my mouth at the enormity of the possibilities which now began to unfold. Suddenly Sadie's behaviour began to make sense too--and in an instant it was clear to me that it was not Sadie that Hugo was in love with but Anna. Hugo was become yet another of those to whom Anna gave that modicum of tolerant and mildly affectionate attention which was needed to keep them in a state of frenzy. Anna, of course, was very much more the sort of girl whom Hugo would be likely to love. This was the situation which was driving Sadie furious with jealousy and perhaps inspiring the very hostilities which Hugo was now engaged in countering, and I apparently employed in some obscure way to further. Or it might be that Hugo was interested in Welbeck Street simply because he thought to find Anna there. There were a hundred possibilities.

This also explained the Mime Theatre. This doubtless was some fantasy of Hugo's which he had recruited Anna, against her will maybe, to realize. That she had picked up in the process a crude version of his ideas was not surprising. Anna was sensitive and Hugo was impressive. Perhaps indeed the theatre was designed to catch Anna's interest and attention, and to be ultimately the gilded cage which would imprison her. I was reminded of the silent expressionism of Hugo's early films. The speechless purity of the mime might well have become a genuine obesssion for I Lugo. But the beautiful theatre itself, this was a house for Anna, a house which Hugo had built and in which Anna would be queen. An uneasy queen; I recalled her restlessness, her nervousness, when I had seen her at the theatre. She was clearly not at peace in the role which Hugo had created for her. Then I had another revelation. There came back to me with immense vividness the burly masked figure whom I had seen upon the stage in the tiny theatre, the figure that had at once seemed to me strangely familiar; and it was clear to me then, without a shadow of doubt, that that figure had been Hugo himself.

At that very moment the telephone rang. My heart sprang within me and fell like a bird striking a window pane. I started to my feet. I had not the slightest doubt but that the caller was Hugo. I looked at the phone as if it had been a rattlesnake. I lifted the receiver and said 'Hello!' in an assumed voice, hoarse and trembling.

At the other end of the wire Hugo said hesitantly, 'I'm so sorry. I wonder if I could possibly speak to Miss Quentin, if she's there?'

I stood there paralysed, without an idea of what to say to him. Then I said, 'Listen, Hugo, it's Jake Donaghue here. I want to see you as soon as possible about something very important.' There was dead silence. Then I said, 'Could you come here to Sadie's? I'm alone here. Or shall I come where you are?' In the middle of this sentence Hugo replaced the receiver.

Then I was in a complete frenzy. I shouted into the phone and hurled it down. I tore my hair and cursed at the top of my voice. I stamped up and down the room scattering the rugs to right and left. It took me a good ten minutes to calm down and start wondering what it was exactly that I was so upset about. I felt that now I must see Hugo at once, instantly, at any cost, within the hour if possible. Until I had seen Hugo the world would stand still. I was not in the least clear about what I wanted to see Hugo for. It was just essential, that was all, and I would be in anguish until it was done. I seized the phone book. I knew that Hugo had moved from his former house, and I had taken care not to know anything of his present abode. I turned the pages with trembling fingers. Yes, he was in the book; a Holborn address and a City number. With a stampeding heart I dialled the number. There was no reply.

Then I sat quietly wondering what to do next. I decided that I should go first of all straight to the address given in the phone book, in case he should nevertheless be there, and that I should then seek him if need be at the Bounty Belfounder studio. If Hugo had been looking for Sadie it was unlikely that he was at the studio, since that was where Sadie herself was. On the other hand, the Miss Quentin he had asked for might have been Anna. So there was really no knowing whether or not he mightn't be at the studio. In any case the first thing to do was to go to Holborn to see if he was hiding there and just not answering the phone. Of course he would have been sure to guess, if he had telephoned from his home, that I would ring him back there immediately.

Then I began to imagine with what feelings of disgust and dislike he must have put down the receiver after I had announced my identity. He could not even bring himself to speak to me for a moment. I put these thoughts away, they were too painful, and I began to set the rugs straight and tidy up my things. It occurred to me then that Sadie had especially asked me to stay in the flat all day. I countered this, however, with the reflection that after all I was going out to hunt for Hugo, and it was against an incursion from Hugo that I was supposed to be defending the place. So that what I was doing could just count as aggressive rather than defensive tactics having the same end in view, viz. the deflection of Hugo from Welbeck Street. If I could find Hugo and occupy him with myself I would be simply fulfilling Sadie's wishes in another way. With that I strode to the door. I took a farewell look around the flat, and then turned the handle.