Do Evil In Return

23

The cypresses that lined the walk fought the wind, bent and convulsed in fury like mad boneless dancers.

The veranda lights were lit, as if Lewis had deliberately turned them on like a good host, to welcome the guest he expected, Easter. Bold shafts of light struck the garden, and Charlotte could see that it was no longer Gwen’s garden, formal and precise. The lawn was a clutter of broken flowers, and palm fronds and dry prickly oak leaves and little mauve dots, like confetti, that had once been part of jacaranda clusters. The wind had beaten the flowers. The stocks and dahlias cringed, half naked, on the ground; the foxgloves had toppled like poles and their pink bells rolled silently across the lawn.

The collies, herded together at the fence gate, made nervous little noises, as if they would have liked to bark but didn’t dare, knowing that Gwen would appear with a folded newspaper in her hand and tap the wire fence with it warningly. They feared the newspaper and Gwen’s displeasure more than they feared the lunatic wind, the unquiet night.

They went up the front steps in silence — Charlotte holding her coat collar over her face to shield it from the grinding dust, and Easter with his hands in his pockets, unaware of wind or dust.

The drapes of the living room had been pulled back all the way. Charlotte wondered whether this, like the veranda lights, was a gesture of welcome, an invitation to stop, to look in. On her first visit tonight the drapes had been closed, the house blacked out, and Gwen upstairs in her room with a bruised throat.

The bruise was hidden now in a froth of blue lace; and the woman who had received it, and the fear and pain it had caused, they were all hidden as rocks are hidden under a high tide.

Through the window Charlotte could see them both clearly, Gwen and Lewis. Gwen sat knitting, her feet resting on the little petit-point footstool, a silver tea service on the table beside her. The three collies huddled together on the davenport, uncomfortable and restless, but refusing to give up this special privilege. Lewis was standing by the fireplace, with an unopened magazine in his hand, as if he had picked it up and meant to read it when Gwen had finished talking.

The fire was lit. Its flames danced in the silver teapot and in the copper bowl filled with scarlet berries. The room looked gay as Christmas, the people natural, the scene commonplace: “More tea, dear?” “No thanks, it’s getting late.” “Why, so it is, nearly midnight, and you have to get up for work in the morning.”

In the morning, if there was a morning.

“Please,” Charlotte said, “let me go in alone first.”

“I can’t. I didn’t want you even to come along. It’s too dangerous.”

“Not for me.”

“Especially for you.” Easter pressed the door chime.

A scurry of dogs in the hall inside, a single sharp bark, then Gwen’s quick footsteps, the click of her heels on the parquet floor.

The door opened and Gwen stood on the threshold, bracing herself against the wind.

“Why, it’s Dr. Keating — Charlotte!” she said with an excited little laugh. “My goodness, how nice to see you. Come out and see who’s here, Lewis.”

Lewis appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. He had changed his clothes and shaved. His face was as blank as a shuttered window. Only his eyes showed pain; they looked across the hall at Charlotte as if across an immense and unbridgeable canyon.

Gwen was flushed and smiling, as delighted as a child at unexpected company. “And you’ve brought a friend with you, Charlotte. How nice. Oh, this is fun, I think. Having company at this hour — it makes me feel so pleasantly wicked. Come in, come in, please do.” She didn’t recognize Easter until he took off his hat. “Why, I know you, of course. You’re the policeman who was here this afternoon. Mr. Easter, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Ballard.”

“Well, Lewis, look who’s here, a real policeman. I hope you haven’t done anything, darling!”

The two men didn’t look at each other.

“Well, my goodness,” Gwen cried. “Everyone’s so quiet. I haven’t said anything wrong, have I?” She sighed, and turned back to Easter. “I guess I have. I always do. Please give me your hat and come in and sit down. Lewis and I were just having a chat and a cup of tea before going to bed. I adore tea. Charlotte scolds me, but...” She smiled nervously at Easter as he gave her his hat. One of the collies came over and sniffed at the hat and then at the cuffs of Easter’s trousers. She tapped the dog’s nose with her forefinger. “Go and lie down, Laddie. I... well, this is fun, isn’t it? Come into the parlor. That’s what I used to call it when I was a little girl — my parlor. And I still think it’s a prettier word than sitting room or drawing room, don’t you?”

No one answered. No one had to. Gwen didn’t seem to expect or want an answer.

The parlor was stifling. The heat had withered the berries in the copper bowl, and the dogs sprawled in the doorway in the hope of a draft, their tongues out.

“I feel quite gay,” Gwen said, pouring Charlotte a cup of tea. “Unexpected company, and Lewis home again, it’s wonderful. You both know that Lewis has been very naughty. He stayed away for two whole days all because of a little quarrel we had. But now he’s home for good, aren’t you darling?”

Lewis spoke for the first time. “Yes, Gwen.”

“Where on earth did you stay, darling?”

“On Vern’s boat.”

“Now isn’t that absurd, staying on a wobbly old boat when you had your own nice house to come back to!”

“Absurd. Yes, I guess it was.”

“And Lewis, dear, you must remember your manners. Perhaps Mr. Easter doesn’t want tea but something stronger.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Easter said.

“You make me feel like a very poor hostess. You won’t even sit down. I... well, it’s been a lovely summer so far, hasn’t it? I do hope it keeps up.”

The wind pressed against the windows and the walls, until the whole house seemed to shake, ready to tear loose from its foundations and blow across the lawn like the silent bells of the foxgloves. A blast came down the chimney; the flames leaped and a log jumped nervously and fell against the side of the grate.

Gwen jumped too, at the noisy shower of sparks. “Oh. Oh, that scared me. The wind — I know it’s silly, but I hate the wind. Charlotte, I bet you’re sitting there thinking how neurotic I am.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“I bet you are, really. I know Lewis thinks I’m neurotic. Every time I get an ache or a little spell of forgetfulness Lewis thinks it’s my mind, which is — which — which...” She paused, blinking. “This isn’t a very gay party, I must say. Back home in Louisville we used to have the gayest parties. Daddy was very strict, though; everyone had to leave at twelve like Cinderella. Lewis dear, you remember.”

“I only went to one,” he answered.

“Oh, you were awfully handsome in those days; you were handsome and I was pretty. Like a Dresden doll, people used to say. Like a — a Dresden doll. Oh, quite, quite different from you, Charlotte, quite different. I was very small and my bones were so delicate Daddy was always afraid of me falling and breaking one.” Her hands fussed with her hair. Charlotte saw that they had a spastic trembling, and the unpainted nails were bluish at the tips. “I never thought in those days that the world could be so cruel, so ugly and cruel and — it was a great shock to me when I found out, a great shock — a hell, a terrible hell — a...”

“Gwen,” Lewis said.

She tinned and frowned at him. “You mustn’t interrupt me all the time. It’s not polite. One of the things Daddy taught me at home was never to interrupt. Oh, we used to have some sessions on manners, I can tell you! We’d go over and over things until I’d learned everything perfectly. Daddy would pretend that he was somebody like the Duke of Gloucester, say, and then he’d knock on the parlor door, rap, rap, rap, and say: ‘The Duke of Gloucester presents his compliments to Miss Gwendolyn Ann Marshall!’... Lewis dear, isn’t that someone knocking at the front door?”

“It’s only the wind,” Lewis said.

“You’re quite mistaken. You’re always mistaken, Lewis. You don’t realize it but you’re always making...” She went to the front door and opened it, and came back smiling, shaking her head. “Just as I said, it’s the wind. Lewis, you owe me an apology.” Lewis turned his face away. It was ghastly in the firelight, distorted, bloodless, like a wax mask found by a child and pinched and mauled beyond recognition.

“Lewis, dear.”

“Yes.”

“You really should apologize. You’ve made another of your mistakes.”

“I apologize.”

“Well, you aren’t very gracious about it.”

“I... for God’s sake, Gwen.”

“And swearing at me in front of guests, that’s very vulgar.” She looked appealingly at Easter. “That man swore at me too, that awful little man.”

“Voss,” Easter said.

“Voss, that’s it, that’s his name. I told him how vulgar it was to swear in front of a lady but he only laughed at me.”

“Gwen,” Lewis said again. “Be quiet.”

“I won’t be quiet.”

“He’s a policeman.”

“Well, I know he’s a policeman. I’m not stupid. I’m not afraid of him, anyway. I haven’t done anything wrong, except drive without my license.”

“When did you drive without your license, Mrs. Ballard?” Easter asked, quietly.

“Now, that’s childish, trying to trap me like that. I won’t tell you, so there.”

The dog Laddie, suddenly rose on his haunches. Without warning he pointed his nose in the air and began to howl, a terrifying, mournful sound that seemed to come, not from the dog’s throat but from the very origins of time. Twice he stopped to draw a new breath, and begin again; and when he had finished he slunk back into the hall as if in shame, his tail between his legs.

The smile had vanished from Gwen’s face. “Someone has just died.” She sipped the cold, bitter syrup left in the bottom of her cup. “I’m glad it’s not me.”

Charlotte glanced uneasily at Easter. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even shifted his weight from one foot to another. He seemed satisfied to let Gwen continue talking while he picked out a fact here, a fact there, from her uneven flow of words.

Charlotte went over to Easter and said in a hurried whisper, “She’s confused, irrational. Anything she says is...”

“Let me handle this.”

“I heard that, Charlotte,” Gwen cried. “I heard what you said.”

“I was only...”

“You said something about me. Well, I’ve got something to say about you, too.” She crossed the room towards Charlotte, with a slow graceful glide, as if she had suddenly remembered the times at home when she had walked with a book balanced on her head to improve her carriage.

“You want to hear it?”

“Yes.”

“Trollop,” she said. “Trollop.”

Lewis called her back. “Gwen. Please, Gwen.”

“Please, Gwen. You keep out of this, lecher. A trollop and a lecher. A fine pair, aren’t they, Mr. Easter? And so clever at fooling poor old Gwen, so terribly clever that I’ve known all about the two of them for months and months. But I’ve had my revenges, little ones and big ones. Oh, when I think of the times Charlotte came here to attend me and I’d tell her how honest she was, how trustworthy, then I’d tell her all about Lewis. Her face — oh dear, it was really quite funny!”

Charlotte had backed away quietly, leaving the two of them facing each other, Gwen, like a doll suddenly endowed with a voice and blurting out anything and everything that had been stored up in its stuffed head during the years of silence; and Easter, a giant by contrast, cunning, dispassionate.

“And the big revenge?” he said.

“Gwen,” Lewis said. “I warn you, anything you say now will be used...”

“I...” She tossed her head contemptuously: “I don’t take advice from a lecher. The big revenge, well, don’t you think it was a big revenge, Mr. Easter?”

“I’m not sure yet what it was, or how you managed it.”

“You can’t be very clever.”

“I’m not.”

“You could at least try to guess. You’ll never get ahead in your work if you don’t try.”

“I’ll try.”

“Well, I should think so. Go on.”

“My guess is that Violet came here last Monday afternoon to see your husband. She saw you instead.”

“That’s right. You remember Violet, don’t you, Lewis?”

Lewis didn’t look at her. “I... yes.”

“Well, you should. She was carrying your baby, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it funny, you gave her a baby but not me, not me, and I’m the one who wanted it!”

“I’m sorry.”

“There isn’t any baby now, is there, Lewis?”

“No — no!”

“And no Violet either. You and Charlotte killed her.”

“No!”

“Well, morally you did. I was only the instrument. You and Charlotte are the real murderers.”

“Leave Charlotte out of it.”

“Why should I? I put her in. I sent the girl to her. You hear that, Lewis? I sent her! I thought what a wonderful thing it would be to bring your two trollops together.”

The room was cooling as the fire died.

“Such a good idea, I thought. But it didn’t work out as I planned. I wanted Charlotte to find out what kind of man Lewis really was. And I wanted, too, for her to get rid of Violet’s baby, to spare me the disgrace and scandal of her bringing suit against Lewis, dragging my good name through the courts and the newspapers. But Charlotte refused. And that night after dinner Violet came back to me again. I was in the garden... Have you seen my garden, Mr. Easter?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Very beautiful.” Flowers beaten to the ground, wind-stripped trees, broken cypress. “Was she alone when she came the second time?”

“Two men drove her here in a car. The little one brought her across the lawn to where I was sitting on the swing. He said he was Violet’s uncle and he thought Violet and I should talk about terms while we were waiting for Lewis. That was the word he used — terms. He left her there with me. She began to cry. Tears don’t affect me any more — I’ve cried too much myself — but I was kind to her. I was brought up to be kind to everyone, especially my inferiors.”

“Did she mention money?”

“No, I did. I asked her how much she’d take to leave town and never come back. She got hysterical then. She kept saying over and over again that Voss was trying to force her to take money but she didn’t want any money. All she wanted was to get rid of the baby, to be ‘ordinary’ again, she called it. She talked as if the baby was a terrible disease.”

Charlotte remembered the scene Violet had made in her office, the way she’d struck her thighs with her fists and cried: “I’ll kill myself!.. I don’t even want money. I only want to be the way I was before, with nothing growing inside me.”

Gwen’s hands were fidgeting with the lace around her throat. “She asked to see Lewis, and when I said he wasn’t here she accused me of lying, of trying to protect him. I told her I wasn’t lying, that Lewis had gone on a fishing trip. She misunderstood what kind of fishing trip it was, and she threatened to go down to the wharf and wait for him. I said, ‘All right, I’ll go with you.’”

“And you did,” Easter said.

“I did? Yes, I must have. I don’t know how, though. Do you think we walked?”

“It’s not far.”

“Yes, I guess we walked. I’m not a very good driver. It was cold and foggy down there and there was a bad smell. I can’t stand it,” she kept saying, ‘I’ll kill myself.’ And she did. She did kill herself.

“No.”

“She must have. I can’t remember.”

“Try.”

“I won’t try. I don’t want to remember. Lewis, Lewis, help me! Don’t let him make me remember! Lewis — Daddy!”

“It’s all right,” Easter said. “You don’t have to remember if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t?”

“No. Forget Violet.”

“Yes. Yes, I think I’ll forget all about her. She was an ignorant girl with no manners.”

“You don’t mind remembering about Voss though, do you? You don’t like Voss. He swore at you.”

“Yes, he did. He swore at me.”

“You saw him again later that night?”

“I think so. I think it was that night. He came to call for Violet, and I told him she was on her way home.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m... I’m getting confused. I shouldn’t be telling you all this, should I? Lewis is looking at me funny. Stop, Lewis, stop looking at me like that.”

“I... all right, Gwen,” Lewis said. “All right.”

“You’re mad at me for borrowing your gun.”

“No, I’m not, Gwen. You couldn’t help it.”

“That’s right, I really couldn’t. There wasn’t any other gun and I had to have one to protect myself.”

“Mrs. Ballard,” Easter said. “On Monday night when Voss came to get Violet, did he believe you when you told him she was on her way home?”

“No. He said he’d been here earlier and when no one answered the door he drove around a little while, and then he — he saw me walking with Violet down towards the wharf. He said he waited and watched, and I came back alone. He accused me — he said bad things...”

“That’s when you gave him money?”

“I had to. All the money I had, the housekeeping money and the six hundred dollars I’d gotten on Saturday for the pair of blue merles I sold, and two rings and a necklace. He promised he’d keep quiet and go away and not come back.”

“But he came back,” Easter said.

“Yes, early this morning. Very early. It was still almost dark. Lewis hadn’t phoned or anything. I was worried and couldn’t sleep. I heard the car and looked out the window and saw them, Voss and the other man, walking across the driveway. I put on my shoes and coat, and then I went into Lewis’ study and got one of the guns and hid it in the pocket of my coat.

“I went downstairs and opened the front door. I said, what do you want? And Voss said something new had come up, that he and Eddie needed more money so they could get out of the country for good. ‘We can’t talk here,’ I said, ‘Lewis is upstairs in bed, he’ll hear us.’ “

Charlotte looked across the room at Lewis, and she knew from the tragic regret in his eyes that his thoughts were like her own: he should have been upstairs in bed that early morning and he should have been at home when Violet first came. If he had been, all four of them would still be alive, still have a future, Eddie and Violet and Voss, and Gwen herself. For Gwen the road ahead was dark and twisted, with here and there a patch of light and an arrow pointing back, back, back to the gay parties, to Daddy and the teddy bear and the smiling French doll, back to the kinder years, further back, and further, until the end of the road was the beginning.

“We went out to the car,” Gwen said. “Voss got in the front seat and the other one, Eddie, got in the back with me, and he drove out past the cemetery. Eddie laughed as we went past and said, ‘People are just dying to get in there.’ I laughed too, and then I shot him. I shot him two or three times. Voss stopped the car. I told him I was going to shoot him, too. He asked me not to, but I did, anyway.”

One of the dogs began to dream; tail twitched, paws moved in pursuit.

“He was a little man, not much bigger than I am, but he was heavy. I put my hands under his armpits and pulled him over into the back on top of Eddie. Then I got behind the wheel and started the car. I thought of driving it over a cliff, but I didn’t want to kill myself because then who would look after the dogs? You understand?”

Easter nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, then I remembered that Charlotte was away, and I thought, what a clever idea to drive the car into her garage and leave it there. I thought how surprised she’d be when she came back. And you were surprised, weren’t you, Charlotte?”

“Yes,” Charlotte said gravely. “Very surprised.”

“I wish I’d been there to see your race. I’ve never liked your face anyway. Liar’s face. Trollop’s face. I’d like to split it open with a knife. I’d like to...”

“Gwen,” Lewis said.

She turned to him. Her expression changed suddenly and completely. “Yes, Daddy?”

“Remember your manners.”

“I’ll try to, Daddy. Do forgive me for telling you the truth, Charlotte, trollop, please have another cup of tea, it’s quite fresh, refreshing and — I have a headache. I’m nervous. Lewis, I’m so nervous.”

“I know,” he said.

“People oughtn’t to make me nervous, ought they?”

“No, Gwen.”

“But they do. You must stop them.”

“I will.” He went over to her and put his hands on her trembling shoulders.

“You love me, Lewis?”

“Yes.”

“You always have?”

“Yes.”

“And you hate her, don’t you? You despise her. You hate her face. You’d like to split it open with a knife, wouldn’t you?”

“Gwen — oh God.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it.”

“I... hate her.”

“And her face, what would you like to do with it?”

“Split — it open — with a knife.”

“There. You see, Charlotte? Two against one. We must hate you, Lewis and I. Isn’t that right, Mr. Easter? Why, where’s Mr. Easter?”

“He’s using the telephone,” Lewis said. “He had a call to make.

She held one of his hands against her cheek. “We don’t care, do we?”

“No, Gwen.”

“Why, it’s like old times. Carry me upstairs the way you used to.”

“Not yet.”

“Yes, now. I am tired. I’ve danced all night.”

He picked her up gently and carried her out into the hall. The tears that fell from his eyes lost themselves in her fading yellow curls. He went slowly up the stairs. She was tired — she had danced all night — and she fell asleep in his arms.

The wind had vanished, as if a great hole had opened in the sky and all the winds in the world had been sucked up into the hole.

Easter opened the wooden gate. The police had come and gone, the car had been driven away, and the glow of morning was in the East.

“Good-bye, Charlotte.”

“Good-bye.”

“Get some rest.”

“No, I don’t want any, I’m not tired.” I haven’t danced all night.

He touched her hand. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.”

“It’s my own fault. I asked for it.” Split it open with a knife.

“I’m sorry about Ballard, too. I did him an injustice; he’s a better man than I thought he was. He’ll stick by her, and perhaps some day she’ll be cured.”

“Perhaps. Yes, perhaps.”

“This isn’t the time or place to tell you that I love you but I’m telling you, anyway. There are tough days ahead. Perhaps my love might be a comfort to you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Will it be?”

“Yes. A — great comfort.” Tears pressed behind her eyes like cruel thumbs, until her eyeballs seemed ready to burst.

“Cry if you want to,” he said.

“I never — I never cry.”

“Cry now, long and hard. It will make things easier for you.”

“I can t.”

“You will, though.” He bent down and kissed both of her tearless eyes. “Good-bye, Charlotte.”

“Good-bye.”

The gate closed, softly, like the leaf of a book falling into place.

She went back into her house and sat for a long time in Lewis’ chair by the window, watching the brightening sky. She wasn’t sure at what moment the city lights went out and morning came.