'Hilary, are you really going to Australia?'

'Hilary is a hero.'

'We'd all like to go to Australia only we haven't Hilary's courage.'

'Hilary is a great man.'

'Goodness gracious, Arthur, whatever have you done?'

It was Tuesday evening and I was round at Arthur's place. I had come via a longish session at Sloane Square. I avoided Liverpool Street on Tuesdays for fear of meeting Tommy coming back from King's Lynn. The usual grub was ready and waiting on the table; tongue, mashed potatoes and peas, biscuits and cheese, bananas. I had brought the wine.

Arthur had, since I had seen him in the morning, shaved off his moustache. It improved his appearance remarkably. He looked younger and more intelligent.

'You suggested it.'

'Did I?'

'Yes. I said could I change myself, and you said I could shave off my moustache.'

'I wasn't serious. However, I think you look better without it. Don't you? Why, what's all this stuff?'

Arthur's shiny sideboard and art deco aeroplane armchair were covered with gaily coloured travel brochures. Sydney harbour, Sydney opera house, miles of sunny beaches, water ski-ing, surfing, kangaroos ...

'I don't feel stuck here,' said Arthur. 'I thought I might consider coming too, if you didn't object.'

'Coming where?'

To Australia.'

I began to laugh. I felt, for the moment, curiously free, carefree, with the freedom and insouciance of despair. The thought that I would see Kitty on Thursday, even the thought that I would see Kitty for the last time on Thursday, cast a lurid life-sustaining radiance. Another blessed merciful interim. And after that let the world end. I felt too an odd grim satisfaction at the prospect of playing policeman to Gunnar tomorrow. Gunnar might feel that he could exorcize Anne by seeing me and exorcize Crystal by seeing Crystal, but he could not get rid of and had not yet exorcized me. I was still there. Perhaps we should end up fighting after all.

'That was a joke too,' I said. 'I'm not going to Australia.'

'Oh,' said Arthur, looking relieved. 'I've been thinking about Australia ever since.'

'Well you can stop now.'

He began to collect up the brochures and stack them neatly on the sideboard. We sat down to supper.

I felt a kind of relief in Arthur's presence. It was partly the feeling which I had had last night that in spite of horrors in one's life a routine could persist. It was Tuesday, I was with Arthur. And there was something more. Arthur was a little untalented unambitious man, destined to spend his life in a cupboard, but there was in a quite important sense no harm in him. He was kind, guileless, harmless and he had had the wit to love Crystal, to see Crystal, to see her value. I felt, for this, a pure gratitude to Arthur which shed a little light upon him. More practically, he was someone to whom I could talk of my situation. Indeed he was the only person to whom I could talk of my situation since with Crystal it was too painful and Clifford only made spiteful jokes.

'How's Crystal?' said Arthur.

'Fine.'

'I wanted to say to you - don't worry, I won't go on about it - I'm still hoping, I can't help it. I'll always be there. Will you tell her just - Arthur will always be there?'

'Yes. Sure.'

'Do you think there's any chance - '

'Well, no - '

'I suppose - ah well - I wondered - I don't know whether you want to talk about that other business, how it's going?'

'That other business is going sensationally,' I told him. How was it going? There could be many different ways of explaining how it was going, many different tones. With Arthur I decided to use the sensational. Why? I felt the need of a crude cleansing briskness. There were lingering residues of sentiment and weak regret, the 'mush' to which Gunnar had alluded, illusory rubbish to be cleared away, rubbish towards which Arthur's silly sentimental innocent mind was already homing.

'Oh - do tell - '

'I saw Gunnar.'

'Oh good - oh I'm so glad - so glad - And you made it up?'

What a phrase. 'Made it up? Made that up? Don't be daft.'

'What happened then?'

'We established comfortably that we detested each other.'

'But you don't detest him. You like him, anyway you wish him well and you want him to forgive you. If not, what's it all for?'

What indeed. 'A lot has happened since I told you that story, in fact the story's old hat by now. Shall I put you in the picture? I saw Kitty - '

'Lady Kitty?'

'Yes, we're great friends, we meet and discuss Gunnar. Gunnar doesn't know of course. I've quite fallen for her.'

'I suppose this is another of your jokes?' said Arthur.

'No, it's not a joke unless everything is. She sends me secret letters by her maid. We have clandestine meetings beside the river. We're having one on Thursday. It's ever so exciting. I suppose that's another reason for detesting her husband.'

'Hilary, you can't mean this - ' Arthur threw down his fork.

'She's a marvellous woman. Gunnar was vile to me when we met. It wasn't a meeting of human beings. He simply wanted to use me. He made it clear that he hated me and that he didn't propose to stop. There's nothing more natural of course, nothing to be surprised at. But if he hates me what's the use? Kitty says he's been obsessed with the past, obsessed with dreams of revenge. He's had analysis and all that crap. I think she imagined that if he saw me it would all fall away. Perhaps it has, but not in the way that I expected, I thought there'd be something in it for me, I didn't realize it would be like a bloody clinic. Kitty still thinks I can do something wonderful for him, but that's because being a woman she wants some sort of feast of the emotions, and because being a woman she believes in magic. But all her magic has done so far is make me fall in love with her. No, it's all over already between me and Gunnar. I was a dolt to imagine that we could help each other in that way. I've learnt a good deal in this last fortnight, I can tell you. I've jettisoned a lot of sentimental nonsense that I'm better without. I don't really feel sorry about the past at all, one can't, it's bound to be false or mixed up with a hundred other things. Regret, remorse, that's the most selfish thing of all. I wanted some sort of soothing experience, some sort of symbolic reassurance, I wanted him to say, "It's all right, Hilary, it's all right." But how can he say that? Perhaps if I could have imposed my will on him I might have got something, some suitable little drama. As it was he imposed his will upon me, and of course I had to let him. That was in the contract. Really there's no live connection with the past, the past is gone, that's obvious when you come to think of it, it doesn't exist any more. What remains are emotions which can be manipulated mechanically. That was what my meeting with Gunnar was, an exercise in mechanical manipulation. I only hope he found it satisfactory.'

'But, Hilary, perhaps you were wrong to let it happen, perhaps you should have been more positive, more sort of inventive - '

'Inventive?'

'Yes, I mean thinking what to say to him, to appeal to him, to touch him, to help him - I mean, why should he do it all - I mean, imagine what it was like for him meeting you, he wasn't to know what you felt - '

'He didn't want to know. He said so.'

'He said so, but people often say what they don't mean, especially - '

'No, no, I've had Gunnar. The thing that's really happened to me is Kitty, that's something, that's alive all right.'

'But that's terrible, and you can't - He doesn't know you meet her?'

'Kitty adores secrets.'

'But, Hilary, no, you can't, you can't - ' Arthur pushed his chair back, his younger-looking face pink with emotion. 'You know you oughtn't to meet his wife secretly.'

'Why? Because nobody ought ever to meet anybody else's wife secretly.'

'There are things one mustn't do - and think if he found out - you mustn't destroy your chance to do some good here. You say it was almost mechanical when you met but I bet it was your fault, you probably became dry and sarcastic - '

'Like I usually am. Well one has to defend oneself.'

'Why? You said it was in the contract that he should decide things, I'm not even sure about that, but wasn't it also in the contract that you should be open and simple with him and sort of humble and - '

'Don't make me sick, Arthur. And do you imagine it's easy to be open and simple when you're being shot at - ?'

'You haven't even tried, and you've got to try. Why don't you write to him?'

'Saying what?'

'Saying you're sorry and - '

'Oh really - '

'Well, why not, isn't that the main thing? Of course emotions are mechanical, but one's got to get past mechanism. It's worth having a go. You say your life's been wrecked. You say he's been to analysts. No one goes to them unless things are awful.'

'Things have been awful for him it seems.'

'Then you must try. Reconciliation must be possible, it must be.'

'Why must it be? You talk like a bloody theologian. You believe in a sort of thing called reconciliation. Perhaps I believed in it once. I don't now. You think there is a sort of place reserved where reconciliation happens. That seems to me like belief in God. But there is no God. And that's the point. It's not a negative thing, it's a positive thing that there is no God.'

'All right, I don't believe in God either. But I think one should try to stick to simplicity and truth. There may be no God, but there's decency and - and there's truth and trying to stay there, I mean to stay in it, in its sort of light, and trying to do a good thing and to hold onto what you know to be a good thing even if it seems stupid when you come to do it. You could help yourself and Crystal, you could help him, but it can only be done by holding onto the good thing and believing in it and holding on, it can only be done sort of - simply - without any dignity or - drama - or - magic - '

'You are eloquent, my dear Arthur, but not very clear.'

'And you mustn't imagine you're in love with his wife.'

'I'm not imagining it.'

'Yes you are, that's rubbish, that's irrelevant, it must be - '

'A lot of things "must be" in your arguments.'

'You mustn't discuss him with his wife and see her secretly, it's not your place to do that, it's not your job, it can't do good, don't you see it makes the other thing impossible, you mustn't have muddles and secrets, and - and excitement - you must only have faithful sort of - good will and - truthfulness and - some sort of simple old idea like - you know - but you're just running away from it into a sort of complicated - '

'I like your "simple old idea", my simple old dear fellow.'

'You're deliberately destroying your power to make things better, like a soldier deliberately making himself unfit for duty, it's a crime - '

'Perhaps I am a gentleman volunteer after all.'

'If you could only go to him quietly - '

'It's just that, precisely that, Arthur, that illusion, that simple old fiction, which is sentimentality. Gunnar has given me a jolly lesson in causation. You speak of truth. Well this is a matter of science, and science is truth isn't it. There are no miracles, no redemptions, no moments of healing, no transfiguring changes in one's relation to the past. There is ago nothing but accepting the beastliness and defending oneself. When I was a little child I believed that Christ died for my sins. Only of course because he was God he didn't really die. That was magic all right. He suffered and then somehow everything was made well. And nothing can be more consoling than that, to think that suffering can blot out sin, can really erase it completely, and that there is no death at the end of it all. Not only that, but there is no damage done on the way either, since every little thing can be changed and washed, everything can be saved, everything, what a marvellous myth, and they teach it to little defenceless children, and what a bloody awful lie, this denial of causation and death, this changing of death into a fairytale of constructive suffering! Who minds suffering if there's no death and the past can be altered? One might even want to suffer if it could automatically wipe out one's crimes. Whoopee. Only it ain't so. And in all my thinking in all these years about Gunnar and about that whole business there was just a tiny grain of that sentimental old lie still left, not that I could do anything with it, I couldn't use it to change my life or Crystal's, which isn't surprising, you can't make any good use of a fib like that, but when he turned up again, Gunnar I mean, it all blazed up into a sort of stupid hope - '

'It's not a stupid hope - '

'Into a sort of stupid hope of somehow being rewarded at last for having been so unhappy, for having had one's career ruined and one's talents wasted - that's what it came to, I suppose - no one could really help me except him, no one could really help him except me - and I somehow imagined that we could get together and say hey presto and the bad stuff would all fall away and be changed in the twinkling of an eye like in the Jesus Christ story, only life isn't like that, it's too deep, it's too causal, we're too old. Of course it seems ridiculous now, it seems stupid, to have suffered so much because of something so accidental and sort of frail which didn't have to happen and so very nearly didn't, and of course guilt is irrational, that was partly what made me think it would all vanish. But the irrationality is of the essence, it goes all the way through, it isn't any sort of fulcrum or escape route, it's the lot - I was destined to suffer stupidly, my mother suffered stupidly, my father suffered stupidly, my sister suffers stupidly, it's what we were made for - Gunnar was just a mechanical part of my destiny just as I was a mechanical part of his - '

'Wait, stop, Hilary, stop, you're saying it all wrong, you've been drinking too much, you often do, you went to the pub before you came here - '

'You make me feel I'm back in the north, back in the old Precious Blood Mission Hall. You're drunker than I am. Look at that wine bottle.'

'It isn't like that, you make it as if it's got to be all one thing or all the other, you're all muddled - '

'You sound pretty muddled too if it comes to that. All right, you tell me what to do.'

'Stop seeing Lady Kitty. Write and tell her you won't come on Thursday. Tell her you feel it isn't right. That's one step, and if you take it you may see another. She'll understand, she'll respect you for it. She must know herself that - it's a sort of false thing - it'll lead to something bad - '

'As for bad, we're knee deep in that already. Bad breeds bad. I can't think why you attach so much importance to this. Of course it's important to me - '

'She's a silly bad frivolous woman.'

'Come, come, Arthur. You don't know anything about her.'

'I've seen her in the office.'

'I see. That's what's behind all this moral tirade. You took against her. Or are you in love with her yourself?'

'She's a coquette, a sort of classy flirt, one can see it, she wears perfume - '

'And a mink coat. Really, Arthur, I regard myself as a simple unsophisticated boy from the provinces, but you are being perfectly childish. She is a beautiful stylish woman, the sort of woman you and I would never normally come within a hundred miles of, there's nothing wrong in that, there's no need to hate her for it!'

'I don't like that sort of vain upper class woman, she's spoilt and silly and I wouldn't trust her - '

'How much do you know about women, my dear Arthur? Well, I suppose Crystal's rather blunter simpler charms are more up your street.'

'Please don't speak like that about Crystal.'

'Well, she is my sister and I wouldn't at all mind seeing her in mink, some decent clothes might do something for her appearance. I suppose I'm allowed to be realistic enough to see that she dresses like a guy and has a face like the back of a cab. If I realize she's ugly that doesn't mean I don't love her.'

'She isn't ugly!'

'Your illusion is touching. Now Kitty - '

'I won't have you talking here about Kitty this and Kitty that - I won't have you speaking of that woman in the same sentence as Crystal - '

'It wasn't the same sentence, it was a different sentence. As I was saying, now Kitty -'

'Get out, please, get out.'