'Who's Tuan? It's a lovely name -'

'Look, my dears, I must stop, I'll think of you both tomorrow up in the air - '

'But you will come, my dear brother, won't you, and we'll be back - '

'Yes, yes, be well, be happy, you have made me very very glad - don't forget, when you write to Benet, don't mention me!'

Jackson tidied up the kitchen, then he spent some time cleaning up the scene in the Lodge. This was not easy. The bedroom was a tangled wreck. It occurred now with force to Jackson that this had been the picture which had confronted Benet not so long ago. No wonder ... He thought, of course it was all a mistake, what he imagined was not true! Should I not simply stay here and tell him what happened? Well, what did happen? Somehow he could not bear it, to have to explain or apologise or crawl to Benet. Some of what Benet said about his going out to other people's houses was true, though surely he had almost always told Benet, and asked - Benet was often not interested or away. He had never wasted Benet's time or in any way cheated him. Well, all this could not be sorted out now. He worked on the scene for some time, he folded things and washed things. A terrible anguish crushed his breast. Everything had come down. He brought out his two large suitcases and filled them up, then, since there was so much left over, emptied them again and filled them carefully, tagging on a few plastic bags. He ran back to the house, looking about him in case he had left anything of his own behind anywhere. He felt he was going mad - so many other matters - he was ready to weep - he pulled himself together. In the Lodge he checked his luggage again. He picked up his coats, then put them down. Where was he going? Ought he to go back into the house? Of course, he would have to lock up everything and leave the keys, he had forgotten that! Also - should he leave any sort of statement, explanation, apology in the hall for Benet to see? No, there was nothing to say.

He put on his overcoat, slinging his mackintosh over his arm. He lifted up the suitcases, the mackintosh running down over his wrist. He dropped the suitcases. He had pocketed the house keys, but the Lodge keys were hung up in the kitchen. He put the suitcases outside, together with his mackintosh and bags, closed the Lodge door and locked it, picked up the suitcases then began to walk slowly towards the house. He went round to the steps which ran up to the front door. He left the suitcases, bags, and mackintosh beside the gate. He took off his overcoat and dropped it. He went up the steps and let himself in. He went through the hall and down to the lower level and the 'garden door'. He locked the door and returned to the hall. He laid all the keys down on the table on top of the envelope which contained the pay which Benet had kindly left him! He looked round the hall. He did not look into the drawing room or the kitchen. He went out of the front door closing it carefully behind him. As he went down the steps he heard the telephone ringing inside. Down at the gate he put on his coat, then put on his mackintosh, then, clinging on to the rest of his luggage, made his way out to the road, closing the gate with his foot. He began to walk slowly along the road. Soon he saw a taxi and gave the taxi man the address of a hotel.

SEVEN.

Tuan, who would normally on that day have gone out, was staying at home in case of telephone calls. It was still quite early morning. He was also so unhappy and so distressed he felt he must hide himself away. He decided to resume his studies of Maimonides but could not concentrate. He walked round and round the room, drawing his hand over the books. His father had been a devout Jew, but not a Jewish scholar. Could he, Tuan, become such a thing as a Jewish scholar? Jewish scholarship, Jewish mysticism? Religious values, mystical values? What is mysticism, can it relate to philosophy? How does all this relate to 'G.o.d', is there a G.o.d - a living G.o.d, does that not mean some sort of limited person? The great difference between the Jewish G.o.d and the Christian G.o.d.

Distracted, he thought of ringing up Benet. But if he rang him he would have to make some account. Of what? Well, of anything- at present he felt guilty of anything! Something about Marian - but what could he say? Oh if only that grief could be removed. He had been rude and hasty to Rosalind, of course he had to tell her to go, but had he not done so in an unkind way? He now very much regretted the sort of sinister things he had said to her-moreover, somehow, he had said too much. He wondered if he should go to see her, but that was impossible, and now she would avoid him. He had rung Jackson's Lodge number at intervals, but that was silent. What was happening now to Marian, where was she? Oh poor Marian. He could not ask questions now, he was an outcast.

The door bell rang. He ran to it.

'Oh, Rosalind, have you any news?'

'No. I waited a while for telephone calls, then I went over to Tara but I couldn't get in, I mean there seemed to be no one there!'

'Thank you for coming here. Don't go away yet -'

'Tuan, darling, are you mad!'

'What do you mean? I am sorry, I have offended you.'

'Let's sit down.'

They went and sat down on the sofa. She took hold of his hand.

'Tuan, I love you, I want to marry you.'

'Dear, dear Rosalind, you don't know me, this is just an impulse, a hasty movement, after all the distress we have been through. You are being very kind to me and I wish you well with all my heart, but we must think about your sister - '

'But you love me, I know you do, we want each other, there has been a barrier and it is broken, I am the only person who understands you - of course I think about Marian, but - '

'My dear child - '

'I am almost as old as you. How old are you?'

'Thirty.'

'Well, I am nearly twenty-three, so we are just right! I know, you have had dreadful troubles, perhaps because of your parents, I know you grieved so much when they died, I am sorry, I know I must not speak of that - and yet in time I must, I must speak of everything. I have been watching you ever so long, ever since Uncle Tim found you on that train from Edinburgh -'

'Please -'

'He told us about that, and how he loved you at once. I have loved you at once.'

'Will you please stop -'

'He gave you your name - what was your other name?'

'Thomas, but -'

'You have a Jewish name too, will you tell it to me?'

'Where did you - never mind - it is Jacob.'

'I love that name too - but I shall keep it secret between us. Uncle Tim also told us what your name meant, Tuan, how it was a tragic and a n.o.ble name - '

'You are a child, a charming child. But please do not go on with this talk, it will lead us nowhere, it would just lead into the dark.'

'You have sorrows - oh please forgive me - I want to hold you and save you -'

'Yes, you are a child, a thoroughly romantic child. I am very very far away from you. Forgive me. I have to be alone.'

'To be forgiven and to be alone forever? Like Jackson!'

'Why do you think like that about Jackson?'

'I don't know - think he is going away - don't want him to go away - anyway he is very lonely - '

'He is a strange man, and he is a good man.'

'So are you, let us return to you. I want you to tell me something about your life.'

'Rosalind, I cannot - there is no life - I mean there is - nothing to tell -'

'Oh come - there is something you know of, something you have seen, the suffering of someone else - you have been so secretive, so shy and reticent -'

Tuan stood up, he walked several paces to and fro. 'Enough, enough, dear Rosalind, please go now. You came here because of Marian. There are things I cannot explain. I should not have spoken. Please leave me, oh please leave me.'

Rosalind said, 'You must understand my love, you must believe in it, you must not let that destroy my love, our love, for I know that you love me. And I have loved you for a long time, I am not a child, I cannot leave you, I want to be entirely with you, I want your suffering to be my suffering. Please at least tell me something, please - '

Tuan walked up and down the room in silence, then sat down again, drawing up a chair opposite to her. 'All right, I will tell you something. Just one thing. I will tell you and it will distress you, and you will tell no one else.'

'I will tell no one else.'

'It is about the past - oh the past, how soon it can vanish and be forgotten. Even the hugest and most hideous things may fade - yet such things also must never be forgotten - '

Rosalind said, 'The Holocaust?'

'Yes. Perhaps there is nothing more to say -'

'Please - '

'It concerns my father and my grandfather. It is a story that my father told me. It was when the war was already on. Many people, our people, for a long time did not realise what terrible danger they were in. Many stayed till the last moment. Many stayed too long. My grandfather was a lucky one to escape - to escape by an ordinary train, to pa.s.s a frontier, to board a boat and to come to Britain. My father described to me the fear, the terror, of those last moments in that train - my grandfather, my grandmother, my father and his sister - Time was pa.s.sing and the train was still. My father was then fourteen, his sister was twelve. His sister had been crying because, when hurrying away from the house, they had left the dog behind. My grandfather explained that they couldn't take the dog, and anyway they couldn't go back now, when the train was leaving at any moment. Our house, abandoned, was quite close to the railway station. Then suddenly his sister pushed her way through and jumped onto the platform and began to run. My father tried to run after her and stop her, but my grandfather violently took hold of him and wouldn't let him go. My father kept crying, I'll stop her, I will, I'll bring her back, but my grandfather just gripped him, holding him violently, while the train was still. The time, the terrible time was pa.s.sing, and my grandmother kept crying, surely by now she will be back. Then suddenly the train began to move. My grandmother was hysterical. My grandfather and my father looked out of the window. 'She is here, she is here!' But already the train was moving too fast. The last my father saw of her was his sister standing on the platform with the dog in her arms.'

Rosalind was crying. 'And of course -?'

'And of course they never saw her - they never found a trace of her again - my father told me - he never told my mother - my father said to me, he said more than once, that he could have stopped her and brought her back, if his father had let him. And then he blamed himself. "When she jumped down and started to run away along the platform, I could have got free and run after her. I could have seized her and pulled her back to the train. Only my father would not let me, he held me so violently!" '

Rosalind had covered her face with her handkerchief.

'So, Rosalind, you see - and that - that was - and is - with me. And more - and more and more I think of her, I think of them - millions, tens of millions - how can there be such evil, it must be held up before the whole world forever. My little story is nothing. Now do stop crying.'

'I am sorry, it's so much - but can I not love you and be with you all the same - will it not be better for you, I mean -'

'No, no - '

'Perhaps you want to marry a Jewish girl -'

'Not that. I just can't - I must carry it, for my father and my grandfather and all - that burden, forever, that pain - the whole thing - I'm sorry - that's why I cannot marry - anyone - I am so sorry. Well, I know you can't understand - '

'Perhaps I could -' said Rosalind. 'Perhaps something, I think I might - but let us just wait a while - I am so - taken away. Just let me recover. I can come to you - in a little while - please - '

'I am very sorry, I didn't want you - to have any illusions. I know you will say nothing of this to anyone.'

'Have you told anyone else?'

'Well, yes. I have told Jackson - now I have told you - foolishly - it must stop here, it must stay with me. Please, dear Rosalind, go away - your being here torments me. Please.'

He went to the door and opened it. Rosalind picked up her jacket and her handbag and went out through the door.

Owen opened the door. He stared at Jackson and at the suitcases.

'What's up? Come in! Are you going on a cruise?'

'No - I hope you don't mind looking after this stuff while I'm away.'

'Certainly, bring them in, gosh they're heavy, are there bombs in? Just shove them there. What's that taxi doing?'

'I don't want to bother you, I'll be away for a while - I must go now - '

'Oh no, you won't! I'll get rid of the taxi, just sit down in that chair.'

Jackson sat down. He closed his eyes. Owen paid the taxi and returned and shut the door.

'Now get up and we'll go and sit in the drawing room and you'll tell me everything. Lean on my arm.'

Jackson had, he was sure, not intended to stay with Owen longer than was necessary to leave the luggage. But the thought of 'sitting down' overcame him and he weakened, feeling that at any moment he might fall down and go to sleep. He followed Owen into the drawing room. They stood opposite to each other. Jackson reached out one hand to hold the edge of the marble fireplace.

'You look dead beat,' said Owen. He reached out, seizing Jackson by the shoulders, detaching him from the marble and shaking him, then guiding him gently to an armchair. Jackson sat down.

'I'm sorry, I just wanted to park that stuff, I'm most grateful, I really want to go on -'

'Where to? I won't let you go. Has Benet kicked you out?'

'Yes. He left a letter - '

'What- has he really kicked you out? I can't believe it! What have you done - or rather what has he done? All this is madness! Thank heavens you've come to me. But really, you can't have done anything wrong, it's perfectly impossible, you don't do wrong things!'

'It's all my fault,' said Jackson. 'He was fed up with my going round to do jobs in other people's houses.'

'Well. What were you doing in other people's houses? Maybe he had a point! You've never done much here! No, no, I'm just teasing, how dare I tease you when you're so terribly tired? I'm very surprised at Benet losing his temper. He'll want you back tomorrow.'

'I don't think so. I messed things up. I really must go out, go on -'

'Where to? Who to? I'll go with you. I've often wondered where you were going! Let us go together!'

'I don't want to - '

'You are about to say you don't want to be a nuisance and so on, but you must realise, you must be certain, that I am very glad to see you and I am going to hold on to you. Now sit quiet here. I shall bring some things to eat and to drink and we shall sit at this little table. You seem ready for a dead faint.'

Leaning back in the armchair Jackson experienced a strange though faintly memorable sensation coming as if from long ago as of being embraced by a huge warm watery substance which rose gently above his head, not death, not drowning, but coming as it were to his rescue. He let his head fall gently onto the back of the chair. He closed his eyes for a moment. He heard Owen's voice far away. He went to sleep.

He woke up. Owen was looking down at him. He sat up. After a few seconds he remembered. He said, 'I am so sorry. I think I slept.'

'Yes, you did. I didn't wake you. It's just as well I pulled you in here. Time has pa.s.sed. Now you shall eat and drink. Then I shall send you to bed.'

'What time is it?'

'Nine o'clock.'

'Nine o'clock?'

'Yes, in the evening. I forgot to tell you about Mildred. She's gone to India where they wear saris and squat on the ground. G.o.d or Krishna has sent you to me. Now let us eat and drink and be merry.'

Owen had laid out a little table with whisky and red wine and orange juice and ham sandwiches and olives and plums and cherry cake. Jackson stared at these. The whole business of Tara and Benet's return came back to him. He felt sick with shame and grief. He hung his head. He also wondered whether Marian and Cantor were all right, and whether they were now far away. He drank a little orange juice, and some water which he asked Owen to bring. He ate a ham sandwich and an olive. He felt an extraordinary burden, like an animal clinging to his back and shoulders. He said to Owen, 'I'm terribly sorry-'

'I know, you want to go to bed. I can see - tomorrow you'll tell me - I hope. Come, I'll help you up, I'll get you up the stairs, hold onto me, that's right, come on, just another flight up, we're nearly there, I always keep this place ready, just in case, only no one comes, only you - that's an omen, there's the bathroom, can I get you - all right, all right - I'll pull the curtains, it's a huge bed you know - no I won't, not yet anyway -I can't tell you how glad I am that you have taken refuge with me. May I kiss you - will you kiss me - thank you, darling, I love you, goodnight, dear Jackson.'

Jackson woke up. He was lying in a bed, in a strange bed, in a huge bed in a strange room. Sunlight was coming in through slits in heavy curtains. His head was being lifted by a ma.s.s of big soft pillows. He breathed quietly, he tried to lift himself by his elbows, but fell back. Was he in hospital? No. He remembered yesterday, that terrible long day. Yet he had slept so much of it - why was he always sleeping? He remembered where he was, and Owen helping him up the stairs. Dear Owen. Then he remembered yesterday morning, when he was asleep on the sofa at Tara. Oh G.o.d, Tara - Benet. And the end of all that! He began to get out of bed. Where were his suitcases and things? He saw them in a corner of the room. Owen must have brought them up when he was asleep. What a wretched miserable furtive creature he was yesterday - and today. What could he do, where would he go, to what to whom could he now appeal? He loved Owen, but he could not stay with Owen.

He got out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The sun blazed in. He did not look out of the window. He opened one of the cases, then closed it again. He had been wearing his clothes in bed, except for his jacket and his shoes. Sitting on a chair he slowly put these on. What next? Nothing next? Everything seemed to be finished up. He got up to go to the adjacent bathroom. He opened the other case and found his sponge bag, his shaving material, his razor. He walked very slowly, like an old man. Well ... He cut himself shaving and left some blood on the towel. He came slowly back into the bedroom. He told himself to buck up with little effect. He sat on the bed. He could not stay, he must leave as soon as possible. He must make other plans, altogether other plans.

Now suddenly he could hear Owen running up the stairs. He stood up and tried quickly to make himself look tidy, look sane.

Owen burst into the room. 'Oh, Jackson, you're awake. You haven't heard the wonderful news!'