The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing
Anna noticed, for the first time, that her friend’s cap of rough gold hair had streaks of grey; and that around her direct but sad eyes were dark hollows, where the bones showed, thin and sharp. “I think you should dye your hair,” said Anna. “What’s the point?” said Molly, angry. Then she made herself laugh, and said: “I can hear him now: I’d come up the stairs with ever-such a posh hair-do, and I’d be so pleased with myself, and Tommy’d smell the dye or something, just sense the vibrations, and he’d say: Mother, have you had your hair dyed? Well, I’m glad you’re not letting yourself go.” “Well I’ll be glad if you don’t, even if he wouldn’t be.” “I expect I’ll be sensible again when I’ve got used to it all…I was thinking yesterday about that—the words, getting used to it, I mean. That’s what life is, getting used to things that are really intolerable…” Her eyes reddened and filled, and again she determinedly blinked them clear.
A few days later Molly telephoned from a telephone box to say: “Anna, something very odd’s happening. Marion’s started dropping in all hours of the day to see Tommy.”
“How is she?”
“She’s hardly drunk anything since Tommy’s accident.”
“Who told you?”
“She told Tommy and Tommy told me.”
“Oh. What did he say?”
Molly imitated her son’s slow pedantic voice: “‘Marion’s really doing quite well, on the whole. She’s coming on quite nicely.’”
“He didn’t?”
“Oh yes he did.”
“Well at least Richard must be pleased.”
“He’s furious. He writes me long furious letters—and when I open one of them, even if I’ve ten other letters by the same post, Tommy says: And what does my father have to say?—Marion comes nearly every day and spends hours with him. He’s like an elderly professor welcoming his favorite pupil.”
“Well…” said Anna helplessly. “Well.”
“Yes, I know.”
Anna was summoned to Richard’s office a few days later. He telephoned, brusque with hostility, to say: “I’d like to see you. I could come to your place if you want.” “But obviously you don’t want.” “I daresay I could spare an hour or two tomorrow afternoon.” “Oh no, I’m sure you really haven’t the time. I’ll come to you. Shall we make an appointment?” “Would three o’clock tomorrow suit you?” “Three it is,” said Anna, conscious she was pleased Richard was not coming to her flat. During the last months she had been haunted by the memory of Tommy standing over her notebooks, turning page after page, on the evening he had tried to kill himself. She had made few entries recently; and then with effort. She felt as if the boy, his hot dark eyes accusing, stood at her elbow. She felt that her room was no longer her own. And having Richard in it would have made things worse.
At precisely three o’clock she was presenting herself to Richard’s secretary, telling herself that of course he would make a point of keeping her waiting. About ten minutes she judged would be the amount of time necessary to feed his vanity. Fifteen minutes later she was informed she might enter.
As Tommy had said, Richard behind his desk was impressive in a way she would never have expected possible. The head offices of this empire occupied four floors of an ancient and ugly building in the City. These offices were of course not where the actual business was done; but rather a showcase for the personalities of Richard and his associates. The decor was tactful and international. One would not have been surprised to see it anywhere in the world. From the moment one entered the great front door, the lift, corridors, waiting rooms, were a long but discreet preparation for the moment one finally entered Richard’s office. The floor was six inches deep in thick dark pile. The walls were of dark glass between white panels. It was lit unemphatically; and apparently from behind the various wall plants that trailed well-tended greenery from level to level. Richard, his sullen and obstinate body cancelled by anonymous suiting, sat behind a desk that looked like a tomb in greenish marble.
Anna had been examining the secretary while she was waiting; and had noted that she was in type similar to Marion: another nut-brown maid, tending to glossy and lively untidiness. She took care to watch how Richard and this girl behaved together in the few seconds it took to usher in herself, caught a glance between them, and understood they were having an affair. Richard saw that Anna had come to conclusions, and said: “I don’t want any of your lectures, Anna. I want to talk seriously.”
“But that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”
He was suppressing annoyance. Anna refused the seat opposite his desk which he offered her, and sat on a window ledge some distance from him. Before he could speak, a green light went up on the panel of his office telephone, and he excused himself to speak into it. “Excuse me a moment,” he said again; and an inner door opened and a young man came in with a file, which he laid in the most unobtrusively charming manner possible on the marbled stone before Richard, almost bowing, before tiptoeing out again.
Richard hastily laid open the file, made a pencil note, was about to press another button, when he saw Anna’s face and said: “Anything especially funny?”
“Not especially. I remember someone saying that the importance of any public man can be gauged by the number of mellifluous young men he has about him.”
“Molly, I suppose.”
“Well yes, actually. How many do you have, as a matter of interest?”
“A couple of dozen, I suppose.”
“The Prime Minister couldn’t say as much.”
“I dare say not. Anna, do you have to?”
“I was just making conversation.”
“In that case I’ll save you the trouble. It’s about Marion. Did you know she was spending all her time with Tommy?”
“Molly told me. She also told me she had stopped drinking.”
“She comes into town every morning. She buys all the newspapers, and spends the time reading them to Tommy. She gets back home at seven or eight. All she can talk about is Tommy and politics.”
“She’s stopped drinking,” Anna said again.
“And what about her children? She sees them at breakfast, and if they’re lucky for an hour in the evening. I don’t suppose she even remembers they exist, half the time.”
“I think you should employ someone for the time being.”
“Look, Anna, I asked you here to discuss it seriously.”
“I am serious. I suggest you employ some nice sort of woman to be with the boys until—things sort themselves out.”
“My God, what’s that going to cost…” But here Richard stopped himself, frowning, embarrassed.
“You mean you don’t want a strange woman around the house, even temporarily? It can’t possibly be the money. Marion says you earn thirty thousand a year even before you start on the perks and the expenses.”
“What Marion says about money is usually nonsense. All right then, I don’t want a strange woman around the house. The whole thing’s impossible! Marion’s never given a thought to politics. Suddenly she cuts bits out of the newspapers and spouts out of the New Statesman.”
Anna laughed. “Richard, what’s really the matter? Well, what is it? Marion was drinking herself silly. She’s stopped. Surely that’s worth almost anything? I should imagine she’s a better mother than she was.”
“Well that’s certainly saying a lot!”
Richard’s lips actually trembled; and his whole face swelled and reddened. Seeing Anna’s face, which openly diagnosed self-pity, he restored himself by again pressing the buzzer, and when the discreetly attentive young man entered—another one—handed over the file and said: “Telephone Sir Jason and ask him to lunch with me on Wednesday or Thursday at the club.”
“Who is Sir Jason?”
“You know quite well you don’t care.”
“I’m interested.”
“He’s a very charming man.”
“Good.”
“He’s also an opera fan—knows everything abo
“Delightful.”
“And we are about to buy a controlling interest in his company.”
“Well that’s all very satisfactory, isn’t it? I do wish you’d come to the point, Richard. What’s really on your mind?”
“If I paid a woman to come in and take Marion’s place with the children it would turn my whole life upside-down. Apart from the cost,” he could not prevent himself adding.
“It occurs to me that you’re so extraordinary about money because of your bohemian phase in the ’thirties? I’ve never before met a man who was born rich who had your attitude to money. I suppose when your family cut you off with that shilling it was a real shock to you? You go on like a suburban factory manager who’s done better than he expected.”
“Yes, you’re right. It was a shock. It was the first time in my life I realised what money was worth. I’ve never forgotten it. And I agree—I’ve got the attitude to money of someone who’s had to make it. Marion has never understood that—and you and Molly keep telling me she’s so intelligent!”
This last was on such a note of aggrieved righteousness that Anna laughed again, genuinely. “Richard, you are funny. Well you really are. All right, let’s not argue. You suffered a deep trauma when your family took your flirtation with communism seriously; as a result of which you can never enjoy money. And you’ve always been ever so unlucky with your women. Molly and Marion are both rather stupid, and their characters are disastrous.”
Richard now faced Anna with his characteristic stubbornness: “That’s how I see it, yes.”
“Good. And now?”
But now Richard let his eyes move away from hers; and sat frowning at a stream of delicate green leaves mirrored in dark glass. It occurred to Anna that he wanted to see her—not for the usual reason, to attack Molly through her, but to announce a new plan.
“What do you have in mind, Richard? Are you going to pension off Marion? Is that it? Are you planning that Marion and Molly should live out their old age together somewhere while you…” Anna saw that this flight of fancy was in fact stumbling on the truth. “Oh Richard,” she said. “You can’t abandon Marion now. Particularly when she’s just begun to cope with her drinking.”
Richard said hotly: “She doesn’t care for me. She has no time for me. I might just as well not be there at all.” Wounded vanity rang in his voice. And Anna was amazed. For he was genuinely wounded. Marion’s escape from her position as prisoner, or fellow-victim, had left him alone and hurt.
“For God’s sake Richard! You’ve ignored her for years. You’ve simply used her as…”
Again his lips were hotly trembling and his full dark eyes swelling with tears.
“Good Lord!” said Anna, simply. She was thinking: Molly and I are very stupid, after all. It amounts to this, that’s his way of loving someone, and he doesn’t understand anything else. And it’s probably what Marion understands too.
She said: “What’s your plan then? I got the impression you’re involved with that girl out there. Is that it?”
“Yes, that is it. She loves me, at least.”
“Richard,” said Anna helplessly.
“Well it’s true. I might as well not exist as far as Marion is concerned.”
“But if you divorce Marion now it might crack her up altogether.” “I doubt if she’d even notice it. Anyway, I didn’t mean to do anything suddenly. That’s why I wanted to see you. I want to suggest that Marion and Tommy should go off on some holiday together. After all, they spend all their time together as it is. I’d send them anywhere they want to go. For as long as they like. Anything they like. And while they were away, I’d introduce Jean to the children—gradually. They know her of course, and they like her, but I’d ease them into the idea of my marrying her in due course.”
Anna sat silent until he insisted: “Well, what do you say?”
“You mean, what would Molly say?”
“I’m asking you, Anna. I can see it might be a shock for Molly.”
“It wouldn’t be a shock to Molly at all. Nothing you did would. You know that. So what is it you really want to know?”
Refusing to help him, not only out of dislike for him, but out of dislike for herself—sitting there judging, critical and cool while he looked so unhappy—Anna continued to sit hunched up on the window sill, smoking.
“Well Anna?”
“If you asked Molly, I think she’d be relieved if Marion and Tommy went away for a while.”
“Of course she would. She’d be rid of the burden!”
“Look, Richard, you can abuse Molly to other people, but not to me.”
“Then what’s the problem, if Molly wouldn’t mind?”
“Well, obviously, Tommy.”
“Why? Marion tells me that it’s evident he doesn’t even like having Molly in the room—he’s only happy with her. With Marion, I mean.”
Anna hesitated, then said: “Tommy’s set everything up so that he has his mother in the house, not next to him, but close. As his prisoner. And he’s not likely to give that up. He might consider, as a great favour, going away for a holiday with Marion, provided Molly tagged along well under control…”
Richard exploded into fury: “God, I might have known. You’re a filthy-minded, loathsome, cold-brained pair of…” He spluttered into inarticulate silence, breathing heavily. Yet he was watching her curiously, he was waiting to hear what she would say.
“You asked me here so that I should say what I’ve said, in order that you could call me names. Or call Molly names. And now I’ve obliged you by saying it and I’m going home.” Anna slid off the high window ledge on to her feet and stood ready to go. She was full of self-dislike, thinking: Of course Richard asked me here for the usual reasons—so that I would eventually abuse him. But I must have known that. So I’m here because I need to abuse him and what he stands for. I’m part of the whole stupid game and I should be ashamed of myself. But although she was thinking this, and it was genuine, Richard was standing opposite her in the pose of someone waiting to be whipped and she went on: “There are people who need victims, dear Richard. Surely you understand that? After all, he is your son.” She went towards the door she came in at. But the door was blank without a handle. In this office it would open only at the touch of a button either outside or from Richard’s desk.
“What am I going to do, Anna?”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to do anything.”
“I’m not going to be outwitted by Marion!” Again Anna was startled into laughter. “Richard, do stop it! Marion’s had enough, that’s all. Even the softest-willed people have escape routes. Marion’s turned towards Tommy because he needs her. That’s all. I’m sure she’s never planned anything—to use the word outwit of Marion is so…”
“All the same, she knows quite well, she’s glorying in it. Do you know what she said to me a month ago? She said: You can sleep alone Richard and…” But he stopped on the verge of finishing what she had said.
“But Richard, you were complaining of having to share a bed with her at all!”
“I might just as well not be married at all. Marion’s got her own room now. And she’s never at home. Why should I be cheated out of a normal life?”
“But Richard…” Futility stopped her. But he was still waiting, wanting to hear what she would say. She said: “But you’ve got Jean, Richard. Surely you must see some connection somewhere. You’ve got your secretary.”
“She’s not going to hang around forever. She wants to get married.”
“But Richard, the supply of secretaries is unlimited. Oh don’t look so wounded. You’ve had affairs with at least a dozen of your secretaries, haven’t you?”
“I want to marry Jean.”
“Well I don’t think it’s going to be easy. Tommy won’t let it be, even if Marion divorces you.”
“She said she wouldn’t divorce me.”
“Give her time then.”
“Time. I’m not gettin
“You should be talking to Tommy. Surely you can see that he’s the key to everything?”
“A lot of sympathy I’ll get from him. He’s always been on Marion’s side.”
“Perhaps you should try to get him on to yours?”
“There’s no chance of that.”
“No, I don’t think there is. I think you’ll have to dance to Tommy’s tune. Just as Molly is, and Marion too.”
“Just what I expected from you—the boy’s a cripple and you talk of him as if he’s a sort of criminal.”
“Yes I know it was what you expected. I can’t forgive myself for supplying it. Please let me go home Richard. Open the door.” She stood by it, waiting for him to let it open.
“And you’re even laughing, at this awful pitiful mess.”
“I’m laughing, as you know quite well, at the sight of one of the financial powers of this our great country dancing with rage like a child of three in the middle of his ever-so-expensive carpet. Please let me out Richard.”
Richard with an effort took himself to his desk, pushed a button, and the door swung open.
“If I were you, I’d wait a few months and offer Tommy a job here. A nice important one.”