Doris Lessing Three-Book Edition: The Golden Notebook, The Grass is Singing, The Good Terrorist. Doris Lessing
Читать онлайн книгу.all those lords and ladies scattered around in the collateral branches of the family tree, so useful I’ve no doubt for the letterheads of companies.’
At this Anna let out a snort of laughter—the lords and ladies being so irrelevant to the sort of money Richard controlled. But Molly ignored the interruption and went on: ‘Of course practically all the men one knows are married to nice ordinary dreary women. So sad for them. As it happens, Marion is a good person, not stupid at all, but she’s been married for fifteen years to a man who makes her feel stupid…’
‘What would they do, these men, without their stupid wives?’ sighed out Anna.
‘Oh, I simply can’t think. When I really want to depress myself, I think of all the brilliant men I know, married to their stupid wives. Enough to break your heart, it really is. So there is stupid ordinary Marion. And of course Richard was faithful to her just as long as most men are, that is, until she went into the nursing home for her first baby.’
‘Why do you have to go so far back?’ exclaimed Richard involuntarily, as if this had been a serious conversation, and again both women broke into fits of laughter.
Molly broke it, and said seriously, but impatiently: ‘Oh hell, Richard, why talk like an idiot? You do nothing else but feel sorry for yourself because Marion is your Achilles heel, and you say why go so far back?’ She snapped at him, deadly serious, accusing: ‘When Marion went into the nursing home.’
‘It was thirteen years ago,’ said Richard, aggrieved.
‘You came straight over to me. You seemed to think I’d fall into bed with you, you were even all wounded in your masculine pride because I wouldn’t. Remember? Now we free women know that the moment the wives of our men friends go into the nursing home, dear Tom, Dick and Harry come straight over, they always want to sleep with one of their wives’ friends, God knows why, a fascinating psychological fact among so many, but it’s a fact. I wasn’t having any, so I don’t know who you went to…’
‘How do you know I went to anyone?’
‘Because Marion knows. Such a pity how these things get round. And you’ve had a succession of girls ever since, and Marion has known about them all, since you have to confess your sins to her. There wouldn’t be much fun in it, would there, if you didn’t?’
Richard made a movement as if to get up and go—Anna saw his thigh muscles tense, and relax. But he changed his mind and sat still. There was a curious little smile pursing his mouth. He looked like a man determined to smile under the whip.
‘In the meantime Marion brought up three children. She was very unhappy. From time to time you let it drop that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she got herself a lover—even things up a bit. You even suggested she was such a middle-class woman, so tediously conventional…’ Molly paused at this, grinning at Richard. ‘You are really such a pompous little hypocrite,’ she said, in an almost friendly voice. Friendly with a sort of contempt. And again Richard moved his limbs uncomfortably, and said, as if hypnotized, ‘Go on.’ Then, seeing that this was rather asking for it, he said hastily: ‘I’m interested to hear how you’d put it.’
‘But surely not surprised?’ said Molly. ‘I can’t remember ever concealing what I thought of how you treated Marion. You neglected her except for the first year. When the children were small she never saw you. Except when she had to entertain your business friends and organize posh dinner parties and all that nonsense. But nothing for herself. Then a man did get interested in her, and she was naive enough to think you wouldn’t mind—after all, you had said often enough, why don’t you get yourself a lover, when she complained of your girls. And so she had an affair and all hell let loose. You couldn’t stand it, and started threatening. Then he wanted to marry her and take the three children, yes, he cared for her that much. But no. Suddenly you got all moral, rampaging like an Old Testament prophet.’
‘He was too young for her, it wouldn’t have lasted.’
‘You mean, she might have been unhappy with him? You were worried about her being unhappy?’ said Molly, laughing contemptuously. ‘No, your vanity was hurt. You worked really hard to make her in love with you again, it was all jealous scenes and love and kisses until that moment she broke it off with him finally. And the moment you had her safe, you lost interest and went back to the secretaries on the fancy divan in your beautiful big business office. And you think it’s so unjust that Marion is unhappy and makes scenes and drinks more than is good for her. Or perhaps I should say, more than is good for the wife of a man in your position. Well, Anna, is there anything new since I left a year ago?’
Richard said angrily: ‘There’s no need to make bad theatre of it.’ Now that Anna was coming in, and it was no longer a battle with his former wife, he was angry.
‘Richard came to ask me if I thought it was justified for him to send Marion away to some home or something. Because she was such a bad influence on the children.’
Molly drew in her breath. ‘You didn’t, Richard?’
‘No. But I don’t see why it’s so terrible. She was drinking heavily about that time and it’s bad for the boys. Paul—he’s thirteen now, after all, found her one night when he got up for a drink of water, he found her unconscious on the floor, tight.’
‘You were really thinking of sending her away?’ Molly’s voice had gone blank, empty even of condemnation.
‘All right, Molly, all right. But what would you do? And you needn’t worry—your lieutenant here was as shocked as you are, Anna made me feel as guilty as you like.’ He was half-laughing again, though ruefully. ‘And actually, when I leave you I ask myself if I really do deserve such total disapproval? You exaggerate so, Molly. You talk as if I’m some sort of Bluebeard. I’ve had half a dozen unimportant affairs. So do most of the men I know who have been married any length of time. Their wives don’t take to drink.’
‘Perhaps it would have been better if you had in fact chosen a stupid and insensitive woman?’ suggested Molly. ‘Or you shouldn’t have always let her know what you were doing? Stupid! She’s a thousand times better than you are.’
‘It goes without saying,’ said Richard. ‘You always take it for granted that women are better than men. But that doesn’t help me much. Now look here, Molly, Marion trusts you. Please see her as soon as you can, and talk to her.’
‘Saying what?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t care. Anything. Call me names if you like, but see if you can stop her drinking.’
Molly sighed, histrionically, and sat looking at him, a look of half-compassionate contempt around her mouth.
‘Well I really don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘It is really all very odd. Richard, why don’t you do something? Why don’t you try to make her feel you like her, at least? Take her for a holiday or something?’
‘I did take her with me to Italy.’ In spite of himself, his voice was full of resentment at the fact he had had to.
‘Richard,’ said both women together.
‘She doesn’t enjoy my company,’ said Richard. ‘She watched me all the time—I can see her watching me all the time, for me to look at some woman, waiting for me to hang myself. I can’t stand it.’
‘Did she drink while you were on holiday?’
‘No, but…’
‘There you are then,’ said Molly, spreading out her flashing white hands, which said, What more is there to say?
‘Look here, Molly, she didn’t drink because it was a kind of contest, don’t you see that? Almost a bargain—I won’t drink if you don’t look at girls. It drove me nearly around the bend. And after all, men have certain practical difficulties—I’m sure you two emancipated females will take this in your stride, but I can’t make it with a woman who’s watching me like a jailor…getting into bed with Marion after one of those lovely