– They wouldn’t miss you, she whispered. Not for a little while.
Patashin laughed out loud. -No chance of seducing you, Irina Natalyevna, he said. If you want a man, You’ll make sure. If not… he grimaced.
– Turn the key in the door, she commanded.
Watching a great man undress is a depressing undertaking; Patashin left his genius with his wing-collar and waistcoat, draped over a chair, and stood before her, white hairs on his chest, leering. She closed her eyes, wishing fervently never to be old.
– I hope it wasn’t painful, he said later.
– No, she said without concern. One of the advantages of riding.
– I must go, he fretted and she watched him regain the stature of his clothes. As he straightened his hair and combed his beard, she said:
– Ravished by genius. What a beginning!
Grigor Patashin said as he left: -Which of us was ravished, I wonder?
That evening with Grigor Patashin did more than give Irina a hatred of old age; it led her directly into the arms of young, beautiful, stupid, young Aleksandr Cherkassov. Thus Patashin was to blame for the disasters of her children. She had married his opposite, and it was his fault. Perhaps, too, on another tack, there was something of her feelings for Masha in her present attitude towards Elfrida. Except for one thing: Elfrida Gribb was beautiful.
One more thing about Grigor Patashin. He left her with a passion for the illicit, because the illicit reminded her of that night, and therefore of being young-
Flapping Eagle was definitely illicit.
Elfrida Edge, she was then. Mrs Edge’s little girl. Dear Elfrida, such a darling one. Her father jumped off a roof, you know, and she saw him falling, past her bedroom window and she thought he was a chimneypot. So well-balanced, it hasn’t damaged her a bit. Lucky with money, of course, rolling in it, that’s what comes of ancestors with cattlefarms down under and worldfamous stamp-collections. Little penny black he called her, pale as a sheet as she is; mad, but the money’s a comfort isn’t it? So poised and self-possessed, little miss snowflake, butter wouldn’t melt, without wishing to be uncharitable, only little girls of nine should cry more. No, Mrs Edge doesn’t live here any more, she’s off somewhere in foreign parts getting done by natives, and why not, she’s still got her looks, you won’t hear a word against merry widows in this neighbourhood. Not since Elfrida grew up, such a treasure, helps the old folks, babysits the young marrieds’ howlers, reads a lot, sews a lot, cooks a lot, but young ladies of eighteen should gad more.
Elfrida Edge
Under the hedge
Plays with herself
Or she plays with Reg.
– O, Elfrida, come down the lane with me.
– No, I don’t think so, thank you.
– I’ll show you my thing if you do.
– I am entirely uninterested in your thing.
– Bet you’ve never seen one.
– Yes I have.
– No you haven’t.
– Yes I have.
– Well your ma has, that’s for sure. Black ones and brown ones and yellow ones and blue ones from those ayrabs who dye themselves.
– Leave Mama out of this.
– If it’s good enough for her it’s good enough for you.
– Reggie Smith you have the filthiest tongue in the school.
– And you’ve got the cleanest knickers.
… the big dirty man with the one-foot prick and an artist to boot lived with bohemian types on a sea-coast so probably very good at It there in bed with her and grunting so she said Why not you never know what you’re missing till you try so he said okay doll and unscrewed it there was a thread in the hole where his prick used to be and he screwed it into hers which had a thread too and she woke up feeling disappointed with the sheets all soaked in sweat…
Just because
Mother does it
Doesn’t mean I have to.
Just because
Daddy did it
Doesn’t mean I want to.
(E.E. aged 16)
When Ignatius Gribb wrote refusing her a place, she knew it was the end of the line. If she couldn’t get into that college, she couldn’t get into college, and that was that. Studious, gadless Elfrida, education ends here. His letter had said: “…if that seems harsh to you, may I attempt to alleviate the hurt by saying how charmingly presentable I found you, and adding that in the event of your failing to secure a University place I should be pleased to offer you the post of secretary in my Faculty Office. Please think about this seriously.”
They were a lost couple, the unfulfilled of the world. It was inevitable that they would marry. With her as his wife, her beauty dazzling the seedy campus, he was treated as a little less of a laughing-stock. With him as her husband, she could believe herself clever-if she could bring herself to believe in him. They knew their limitations and husbanded and wifed each other against the darts and gibes of the world. So Calf Island came as a happy revelation; here he found his self-respect and she nurtured her love. Ignatius, named for the darknighted saint, her centre and love. Love was the thing, to be in love. That was the thing.
The sands of time
Are steeped in new
Beginnings.
Elfrida and Irina, both bruised by youth, the one seeking to retain it by immersing herself in its innocent airs, the other by plunging into thoughts-and sometimes acts-of wickedness. Like and yet unlike. As like, as unlike, as Axona and K.
He had been living for the moment for several days, allowing events to take their course, following the dictates of his uncontrolled emotions, and being in their clutches had put all thoughts of Grimus and Bird-Dog and Virgil from him. Sufficient unto the day…
Living for the moment, a. curiously apt phrase. Later he would recall Virgil saying: -A life always contains a peak. A moment that makes it all worthwhile.
For Flapping Eagle, that moment arrived the seventh time he made love to Irina Cherkassova.
They were in her bed for the first time, Cherkassov was at the Rising Son again, and Irina had seized the opportunity to be comfortable. A single candle provided the only light in the room. Irina was hungry, demanding as an absolute monarch; and Flapping Eagle was in just the mood to fulfil those demands. It was a violent, frenzied thing that night, the two-backed beast; and in the midst of their battle Flapping Eagle saw his vision.
Her face in the candlelight, the face of Elfrida, elfbone pale; her writhing body the body of Elfrida; her moans, Elfrida’s moans. It was as though for that flash the two women had become one, joined by the intercession of his love. Then the vision faded, but the truth of it remained; and when their lovemaking was over Flapping Eagle lay in the yellow light amazed by the miracle.
Because it was so: in the unfettered lusts of Irina he looked for the elegance-yes, the primness-of Elfrida, the saintliness which gave her the edge in beauty over the Countess; and at the same time he longed for Irina’s freedom of the senses to infiltrate Elfrida’s self-denying morality. They were opposite and the same, Elfrida as innocent as Irina was not, Irina as free as Elfrida was trapped. In their relations to their husbands they were opposites. The unifying bond was Flapping Eagle himself. As Elfrida loved him, but would not consummate that love, so Irina lusted after him and acted upon her lust. In themselves, neither was complete; through him, they both attained completion. Their faces, bodies, even souls, superimposed and one in his sight. To make love to Irina was to remove Elfrida’s frustrations; to kiss Elfrida’s cheek was to release Irina’s lust. Elfrina, Irida, Elfrida, Irina.
And the converse, their completion of him, held true also. He lay in Irina’s bed, balanced between love of innocence and lust for experience, between denial and consummation, standing at the peak, from which the only direction was down. Elfrina Eagle. The triangle was not three points but one thing.