A Severed Head by Iris Murdoch

Author:Iris Murdoch [Murdoch, Iris]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-26T07:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

I was back again at the door at Pelham Crescent. I was also drunk. It was late and the fog was gathering again. It struck me, as I handled the heavy crate of wine, that I was shuttling to and fro with an increased speed between the various poles of my situation and was indeed by now all over the place. I got the door open and got the wine through into the hall. I simply had to come back.

I had found myself unable to make love to Georgie. I had stayed with her too long, drunk too much, and ended up abjectly in tears. I left her with relief, and I think she felt relief too at my going. We did not speak seriously again, but treated each other with great gentleness, like a pair of invalids.

Now it was essential for me to see Palmer and Antonia. It was after eleven o’clock, but the crate of wine which I had promised to bring served as an excuse. I assumed that I would find them up. I knocked on the drawing-room door and looked inside. The room was dark except for the subdued glowing fire. Then I heard Palmer’s voice calling from upstairs, ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Martin,’ I said. My voice sounded hollow, like someone talking in a cavern. I added, ‘I’ve brought the wine.’

Antonia’s voice said, ‘Come and see us.’

I said, ‘Have you gone to bed? I’m sorry to come so late.’

‘It’s not late,’ said Palmer’s voice. ‘Come on up. Look, bring three glasses and one of the bottles. We simply must see you.’

I found three glasses and took a bottle of the Château Lauriol and began to mount the stairs. I had never been upstairs in Palmer’s house before.

‘We’re here,’ said Antonia’s voice. A stream of golden light showed the open door. I paused in the doorway.

An enormous double bed faced the door, its white headboard festooned with trails of gilded roses. The snow-white sheets were parted. A pair of lamps, mounted on tall carved ecclesiastical candlesticks, also gilt, shed a soft radiance from either side. There was a scattering of rosy Persian rugs upon the white Indian carpet. I stepped in.

Palmer was sitting on the side of the bed. He was wearing a cream-coloured embroidered robe of Chinese silk and, it was evident, nothing underneath. Antonia was standing beside him well wrapped in her familiar cherry-red Jaeger dressing-gown. I closed the door.

‘How very sweet of you to bring the wine!’ said Antonia. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ I said.

‘Let’s have some straight away!’ said Palmer. ‘I love a dormitory feast. I’m so glad you’ve come. I’ve been looking forward to you all the evening. Oh dear, there’s no corkscrew! Do you mind fetching one, Martin?’

‘I always carry one,’ I said. I unfolded it and opened the bottle.

‘I’m afraid we’re offending all your canons!’ said Palmer. ‘Do you mind drinking it cold? Do pour out three glasses and then put the bottle by the fire.’

I set the glasses upon a little table of pink marble beside the door and poured them out.

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