The Bachelors

  ‘Tim, you are wasting my time.’

  Footsteps approached outside and the door-handle was turned. Marlene got behind the curtain with Tim just before the porter put his head round the door. As soon as he had withdrawn Tim moved out to the far side of the big table.

  ‘It is a matter of life and death,’ Marlene said.

  ‘I’ve got to go to the lavatory,’ Tim said. This was genuine, and he departed.

  Marlene found a place of concealment at the end of the passage. Tim came out of the lavatory and, looking to right and left, darted upstairs. Marlene followed, in time to catch him as he attempted to close a door behind him. She pushed her way in against him and confronted him in a bleak vacant bedroom. She locked the door.

  ‘Now, Tim,’ she said, ‘what’s all this fuss about?’

  ‘I don’t want to give evidence in Seton’s case,’ he said. ‘It’s got nothing to do with me, Marlene.’

  ‘It isn’t a matter of what you want. It’s a question of what is necessary.’

  ‘No,’ said Tim, ‘really.’

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing doing,’ Tim said.

  ‘You are out of your mind,’ she said.

  Tim made a dash for the door, unlocked it, fled downstairs, grabbed his coat and dashed into the street where he turned several corners and then caught a taxi.

  Marlene walked solemnly downstairs and demanded some scrap paper from the hall porter.

  ‘Mr. Raymond has left, Madam.’

  ‘I wish to leave a note.’

  She folded it in four when she had written it and wrote Tim’s name on the outside. She gave it to the porter who, when she had gone, read the message: ‘I shall see my solicitor tomorrow with a view to altering the legacy arrangements. Marlene Cooper.’

  Ewart Thornton sat with his elbow resting on the arm of his wide chair, and in his hand the telephone receiver.

  ‘There is a meeting to-night. Of course I shall not be present. Freda my dear, there is something you should know about the Wider Infinity. There is a group within the Group. A secret group within the Group. Now you didn’t know that, Freda dear, did you? Doesn’t it surprise you?’

  Freda Flower sat in her chair by the telephone, looking up at a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling which she dared not sweep away for fear of bad luck, and spoke into the telephone.

  ‘You amaze me, Ewart,’ she said.

  ‘I thought that would surprise you,’ he said. ‘My dear, this secret group within the Group is called the Interior Spiral.’

  ‘That’s a make of mattress, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘It may be, it may be. I say, my dear Freda, you are taking this seriously, aren’t you?’

  ‘I think it’s a very serious matter indeed, Ewart. After all, it was my money that was—”

  ‘Yes, quite. Well, as I was saying, there is this secret group, and I admit I was a member. There was some good in it, Freda, we did a lot of good. But an evil spirit got abroad amongst us. I have resigned. There is a conspiracy amongst them to support Patrick Seton at the trial. Of course, this is illegal and they won’t have a leg to stand on, but—’

  ‘Oh, Ewart, oh, Ewart. I do wish I had never gone to the police about that money. They will make me say more things against Patrick, and with him standing there in the dock, with his eyes on me. I don’t know how I managed the other day in the Magistrate’s Court. I came home to bed, and___’

  ‘You only have to speak the truth, Freda. It is the truth, isn’t it? You did give him that money to buy bonds?’

  ‘Oh yes, but—”

  ‘And he used it for his own purposes?’

  ‘Yes, but—”

  ‘And forged a letter to cover himself?’

  ‘Yes, it’s true, but… Oh, Ewart, I somehow knew all the time he was deceiving me and I let it go. It makes—’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Well, I knew and I didn’t know. I wouldn’t admit it to myself. And now to get up in the criminal court with his eyes on me again and stick to the facts as Mr. Fergusson says, it will be such a sort of let-down, a betrayal, and poor little Patrick, he’s so thin.’

  ‘Tell me, Freda dear — I’m a man of the world —was there any — were there any relations between you and Patrick Seton? In confidence, my dear?’

  ‘Well, Ewart, I don’t want to talk about it, naturally I’ve got my pride. But he got round me, you know, Ewart, and I let myself go. He—”

  ‘My dear, if this is mentioned in court, deny it. Simply flatly deny it. It is irrelevant to the case. I doubt very much if Patrick would bring it up in court —it would go against him, if anything. You were foolish, Freda my dear.’

  ‘I know I’m a foolish woman. It’s not just the disgrace of it coming up that’s worrying me. But it was terrible the other day to stand up in front of Patrick and denounce him to the magistrate after being together like that. He looked at me. It—’

  ‘That’s just his trick, my dear. Don’t you see? He counts on women being weak. He—”

  ‘Oh, I do believe he meant everything in his heart a the time when we were together, really. And he can see through everything, Ewart. You don’t know how psychic he is. He’s in touch with my poor husband. He’s in touch with the Beyond. He—’

  ‘Are you afraid of him?’ Ewart said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘His looking at me. He used to recite “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”, it was a deepening experience, Ewart.’

  ‘You must definitely speak to Father Socket, Freda. If you feel an evil eye upon you, Father Socket will exorcise it for you—’

  ‘Father Socket has gone away. Dr. Garland can’t find him anywhere. He isn’t at Ramsgate and he’s left the flat. Dr. Garland’s upset. Dr. Garland’s sent those girls away — and between you and me, good riddance. You don’t tell me they were waitresses. No fear.’

  ‘There must have been a break between Socket and Mike Garland,’ Ewart said. ‘My dear. Tell me more.’

  ‘Oh, definitely a break. I don’t know what about.’

  ‘Have you seen Mike Garland recently?’

  ‘No. There’s rent owing for the girls.’

  ‘Freda my dear, you simply must keep clear of these cranks.’

  ‘Ewart, I feel I can count on you. If only I didn’t have to go to court and stand up. The case might go on for a whole day or more. Will you be at the trial?’

  ‘Oh no. Exams.’

  ‘I should like to see you. Won’t you come over?’

  ‘Sorry. Loads of homework.’ The comfort went out of his face at the notion of his telephone-relationship getting out of hand.

  ‘Suppose Patrick gets off?’ she said.

  ‘He won’t get off if you stick to the facts.’

  ‘But this Interior Spiral. They might get up and say anything. Suppose Patrick gets off? — He’ll do me damage, Ewart, and I’ll only have myself to blame.’

  ‘The Interior Spiral, as I was about to tell you, Freda my dear, is dwindling fast. Marlene will find herself with very few friends when it comes to a court case.’

  ‘Suppose Patrick doesn’t get off? — He’ll do me damage.’

  Ewart Thornton suddenly desired to ring off. The act of gossiping with her over the telephone was a need, but the need was fulfilled in the act. He did not like it when the conversation seemed to be getting somewhere. ‘Patrick will do me harm.’ She upset him by going on like this. What if Patrick did her harm? Ewart felt uneasy about Patrick. He might well do harm. It was best to keep out of Patrick’s reach. Patrick was definitely in touch with things out there in the Unseen.

  ‘Patrick,’ said Freda, ‘has the power to do—’

  ‘Freda my dear, I must go. Mounds of homework.’

  He sulked for a moment after he had put down the receiver, then he rose fatly, and presently stood up tall so that his hips lost their broadness. He tidied his room for the night. He put this away and that in its
place, and sighed for his superannuation.

  Marlene sat in her indignation, awaiting the meeting of the Interior Spiral. Everyone was late. It was a quarter to nine and the meeting had been called for half-past eight. The six coffee cups and the plate of biscuits stood on the tray like messages of regret for inability to attend. Ewart Thornton had said he would not come. Still, one had hoped… Tim, to whom had been offered this unique opportunity of becoming acquainted with the Interior Spiral, was out. Out —she had seen her solicitor that morning and Tim was out of her Will. Five others had promised, were expected, might still come, would surely… Patrick himself, why was he late? The two retired spinsters, the Cottons from round the corner, where were they? Disloyally attending those life classes they had recently taken up, Marlene had no doubt. She had told them of the urgency. Billy Raines, the photographer? Osbert Jacob? Jacynthe — The door bell rang.

  It was Patrick.

  ‘I’m sorry to be late,’ he uttered in his half-voice, ‘but Alice, I’ve had trouble with Alice. Keeps talking of suicide… one day… suicide. It’s sure to happen.’

  ‘That girl should be in a home,’ Marlene said. ‘You are too good to her, Patrick. She is only after what she can get. You are too good.’

  She placed her arm round his shoulders and he rested his head upon her bosom of bones.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘take your coat off, Patrick. It is nine o’clock and no-one has come. I fear we are deserted, but we are not a sinking ship. Not yet. I told everyone of the urgency, and what was to be discussed. After all I have done for the Infinity. My own nephew, my own flesh and blood, has—” The door bell rang.

  At first she thought it was the Rector of Dees coming up the stairs. She had not expected the Rector of Dees, since he was getting on in years and the trains were so irregular. But she had written to him. And now he had come. ‘In my hour of need,’ she called down the stairs. ‘Dear Rector.’

  He looked up from his wide-brimmed hat. It was not the Rector of Dees, it was Father Socket of the enemy faction, protector of Dr. Garland so-called.

  ‘Well,’ said Marlene, blocking the doorway.

  Father Socket removed his hat and looked humble. ‘May I come and break bread with you?’ he said.

  ‘Come this way,’ Marlene said.

  She took him into her sitting room where Patrick stood by the fire. Father Socket held out his hand to Patrick.

  ‘I have come to make my peace,’ he said.

  Patrick placed his effortless hand in the strong white-hairy one of Father Socket. White hairs bristled on Father Socket’s face. He had not shaved.

  ‘Dear lady,’ he said to Marlene. ‘I have been through the deep waters.’

  ‘Did you say you were hungry?’ said she, perceiving he had come as an ally.

  ‘It was a manner of speaking,’ he said. ‘I have come to ask you to accept what assistance I can offer in your courageous efforts to—”

  ‘You want to witness for Patrick at the trial?’

  ‘I do. I have been greatly deceived in my clairvoyant protégé, Dr. Garland. The serpent’s—”

  ‘He is no clairvoyant,’ said Marlene, ‘and he is no doctor.’

  ‘You are right,’ said Father Socket. ‘And would that I had known it earlier. He is tonight under arrest for activities the nature of which I will not sully my lips by describing. I myself have just come from the police station where I was given to understand that attempts had been made to implicate myself in these activities. Fortunately——’

  ‘What were the activities?’

  ‘Young women were involved. I say no more,’ said Father Socket. ‘Fortunately there is no shred of evidence against me. I have been away for some days, and I find on my return this afternoon that my flat has been searched in my absence. Needless to say, nothing of the least incriminating nature was found. My name is clear. I have come straight to you to offer my services in atonement for the harm done to Mr. Seton by Dr. Garland.’

  ‘Doctor so-called,’ said Marlene.

  ‘A very wise move,’ Patrick said meekly to Father Socket.

  Father Socket looked at him, opened his mouth and closed it again.

  ‘We must have our refreshments,’ said Marlene. ‘The Interior Spiral goes on!’ She went to heat the coffee.

  ‘A very wise move,’ Patrick said to Father Socket.

  ‘The police have no evidence against me,’ Socket said.

  ‘Not unless I lay it before them,’ Patrick said meekly, ‘because I have proof of the facts.’

  ‘I have come to offer my services, my son,’ said Socket. ‘I cannot do more. Under the influence of my cloth, my evidence___’

  ‘Come now,’ Marlene said, bearing in the coffeepot, ‘we shall refresh ourselves while we discuss the details. How glad I am, after all, that the members of our little Interior have defected! They were not worth their salt. All things work together for good. Do you take sugar, Father?’

  ‘No, nor coffee at this hour, if I may be excused.’

  ‘Details,’ said Marlene. ‘Now, it is a question, before we see Patrick’s counsel, of what you were doing on the morning of the twelfth of August. You were at Patrick’s rooms on that morning, receiving a private séance. Patrick was in a trance… You saw a police car pull up outside just as you were leaving the premises… his statement… in a trance.

  By midnight they were rehearsed.

  ‘Before you leave,’ Marlene said, ‘shall we go into the Sanctuary for a few moments’ spiritual repose?’

  In the Sanctuary a dim green light was burning. Patrick automatically took the carved oak séance chair while Marlene and Socket sat facing him.

  They breathed deeply. Suddenly Patrick’s head jerked backwards. Marlene whispered to Socket, ‘Take my hand. He is going into a trance. He may prophesy.’

  Patrick gurgled. His eyes rolled upward. Water began to run from the sides of his mouth which at last he opened wide. In a voice not his, he pronounced,

  ‘I creep.’

  Marlene’s arms went rigid. Socket tried to release his hand but could not.

  Patrick’s mouth was foaming. His head drooped and his eyes closed. He breathed loudly. His fingers twitched on the end of the chair-arm. Presently he lifted up his head again and his eyes opened into slits.

  Marlene said, ‘He’s coming round.’

  They left the Sanctuary of Light, Marlene assisting Patrick.

  ‘Did I give utterance?’ Patrick said. ‘What did I say?’

  Walter Prett leaned his bulk over the bar of the wine club in Hampstead. It had just opened and he was the first customer. He said to the barmaid, ‘I say, Chloe, you know everyone, don’t you?’

  ‘Just about,’ she said.

  ‘Do you know Isobel Billows?’

  ‘Now who is she?’ Chloe said, concentrating her sharp young face on the subject.

  ‘She was married to Carr Billows of Billows Flour.’

  ‘Oh, Flourbags?’

  ‘Yes, his first wife.’

  ‘I don’t know of her,’ Chloe said. ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s got lots of money. I broke her china the other day.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean, you naughty boy?’

  ‘I’ll have another,’ Walter said.

  ‘You broke her china?’

  ‘Yes, all her china tea cups. They were on a tray. I smashed the lot.’

  ‘Why d’you do that?’ Chloe said, polishing the glasses on the counter so that her time should not be not altogether wasted.

  ‘Why? That’s what I ask myself between opening times. I love that woman, Chloe. And yet I go and behave like a hog.’

  ‘Just a minute,’ said Chloe, drawing inspiration from the embossed cornice. ‘Just a minute. Haven’t I heard that she’s got a barrister friend?’

  ‘She has indeed. Martin Bowles. Do you know him?’

  ‘No, I don’t think’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t know him. He’s nobody. Only he hangs round Isobel for her m
oney. He’s the financial wizard, you see. And lines his own pocket on the right side of the law. A common little, vulgar little—”

  ‘Now don’t start that,’ Chloe said, ‘Walter, please. Not at this hour of the evening. Hallo, Eccie,’ she said as Francis Eccles came in.

  ‘And he’s bald,’ said Walter. ‘At least I’ve got a good head of hair.’ He shook his white mane.

  ‘You could do with a trim,’ said Chloe.

  ‘I’ve resigned from the British Council,’ said Eccie. Walter hugged him like a bear and embraced him on both cheeks. He drew from his pocket three five-pound notes and gave one to Eccie. ‘What’s this for?’ Eccie said.

  ‘A congratulatory gift.’

  ‘The return of a loan,’ said Chloe. ‘I remember the last time you were here—”

  ‘Vulgar little lower-middle-class ideas you have, Chloe. I do not borrow and return. I take. I give.’

  ‘You can give me sixteen and six and clear out,’ Chloe said. ‘I won’t be talked to like that.’

  Walter beamed at her.

  ‘Yes, it’s all right when you’re in the right mood,’ Chloe said, ‘but you turn about like the weather.’

  ‘My lectures,’ said Eccie, ‘were designed to reveal the essence of art from Botticelli to Kandinski, with reference to the lives of the artists themselves, supported by coloured plates, excellent reproductions. Those lectures have stood the test—”

  ‘I should leave out the lives of the artists,’ Walter said. ‘They don’t bear looking into.’

  ‘Oh, come, I wouldn’t say that.’

  ‘They break up ladies’ china cups,’ Walter said mournfully.

  ‘Since when were you an artist?’ Chloe said.

  Walter looked dangerous.

  ‘Walter, now, Walter,’ said Eccie, ‘don’t do anything.’

  ‘I have spent a long time not doing anything,’ Walter said. ‘The sins of the artist are sins of omission. You should do a lecture on that, Eccie, with reference to the lives of the art-critics.’

  ‘Well, as I was saying,’ Eccie said, ‘this chap called me in, and he said’

  ‘I pray,’ said Alice, ‘day and night. I go into churches and pray if the doors are open, and I pray that Patrick will be saved from prison.’