Asylum by Patrick McGrath

Author:Patrick McGrath [McGrath, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Psychological, Literary
ISBN: 9780307764447
Google: Ie3Bs_I4EV4C
Amazon: 0679781382
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 1996-01-01T22:00:00+00:00

Nick passed out where he was and they slept late the next morning, which was a Sunday. Edgar was still unconscious when Stella got up and found the painter in the kitchen poring over his sketches and trying to decipher the notes he’d scrawled when Edgar was firing ideas at him. Stella said she needed some fresh air, she had a bad hangover, and Nick said he’d come with her. They left the place quietly so as not to wake Edgar.

They wandered down to the river. Nick looked awful. He was in his old tweed jacket and paint-spattered trousers and shoes, and he was unshaven, red-eyed, and baggy-faced. It was a gray, chilly morning with spots of rain in the wind, and after a few minutes watching the river they were both too cold to stay out. Nick suggested they stop in at the pub.

It was when they got back an hour later that the nightmare began. Edgar stood in the door of his studio glaring at them. He hadn’t opened the shutters so the place was still dark and his face was indistinct. The couple of drinks in the pub had mobilized the alcohol still in Stella’s blood from the night before and she was already squiffy.

“Darling,” she cried, “we’ve brought you some breakfast!”

Nick held up two quart bottles of brown ale. “Hair of the dog,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

Edgar hadn’t moved, he hadn’t said a word; he just stood there glittering at them, his bottom lip pulled down and his teeth pressed tightly together. Stella moved toward him, her laughter dying and concern now clouding her features. The other one, the sick one, was there, that was all there was; there was no Edgar at all.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Don’t come near me.”

She turned to Nick, who was frowning at Edgar, as troubled by his behavior as she was. They were both quite sober now.

“Edgar—”

“Get out, Nick. Don’t come back here.”

“I don’t—”

“Get the fuck out, Nick!”

“Look—”

Edgar moved toward him, clearly intending to hurt him. Nick backed away.

“Get the fuck out!”

Nick did what he was told. In silent amazement Stella watched him go.

“Bastard,” muttered Edgar as Nick’s steps were heard clattering down the stairs.

“Stop this, you’re frightening me—”

“You little slut. With Nick.” He had started talking with a public-school accent like Nick’s.

“I don’t understand.” But she did.

“‘I don’t understand.’” He mimicked her. “Yes you do understand, don’t lie to me anymore.”

A great weariness swept over her. She had seen the other one before but it had never been as bad as this. And he’d never turned on Nick before. How long would she have to wait this one out? She sat down and lit a cigarette. She felt sick and depressed.

“You bore me to death with this nonsense,” she said quietly.

She picked up an orange from the bowl on the table and turned it idly in her fingers. The next thing, he was across the room and dragging her onto the floor. She was aware of the orange rolling away toward the window and she wanted to tell him not to tread on it as they were expensive.

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