A Season in Purgatory (38 page)

“When will we be able to see him?” asked the reporter.

“Soon, I think. He should be getting out in a day or so. It wasn’t a bit serious.”

Since Constant’s accident on the Montauk Highway, Charlotte had been dutiful in her hospital visits to her husband. She arrived each day, gifts in hand, and spoke charmingly to one persistent reporter who waited each day for news, always engaging her in conversation. She did not know that the reporter was named Gus Bailey. She did not know that Gus Bailey had once firmly believed that a cover-up had taken place in the investigation of the murder of Winifred Utley years back in Scarborough Hill. She did not know that because of his persistence Gus Bailey had lost his job at the Scarborough Hill
Times
, which had mysteriously been bought
and closed down. She did not know that Gus Bailey had moved away and resided for sixteen years in Los Angeles. She did not know that her husband had once been questioned during the investigation of the murder of Winifred Utley. She did not even know that there had been such a person as Winifred Utley.

The fact that Constant had been drunk and that he had had in the car with him a woman named Wanda Symanski, who had been transferred to a hospital in Garden City, had not appeared in the newspapers. Inside, in Constant’s room, Charlotte sat each time for fifteen minutes before returning to her car. In those fifteen minutes, she rarely spoke to her husband unless there was a nurse or doctor in the room. Instead, she watched the news on television or read a magazine until the appropriate time for a hospital visit was over.

The rest of the family had returned from their various afternoon pursuits. Drinks were being passed in the loggia.

“Any calls, Bridey?” asked Jerry, when he returned from the movies.

“No, sir,” said Bridey.

“Any callers?” he asked.

“No. Were you expecting someone?”

“No, no. Just curious.”

“Did you see Harrison, Bridey?” asked Kitt.

“No, Miss Kitt. I haven’t seen him since he went out to go swimming at about two,” said Bridey.

“Surely, he should be back by now,” said Kitt. She glanced at her watch.

“Jerry, you didn’t go to see that disgusting movie again? I don’t believe it,” said Maureen. “Freddy and I walked out on it last night.”

“Father Bill said that the Vatican asked Catholics not to see her concerts in Italy,” said Grace.

“That only sold more tickets, Ma,” said Jerry. “How was the golf, Pa?”

“The senator was the big winner today,” said Gerald, making an expansive gesture toward Sandro. He and his son were playing backgammon. “I wish you could have seen our friend from next door, Mr. Webster Pryde. He was in a foursome playing just behind us. Then, on the fourth hole, some charming lady recognized Sandro and insisted on getting his autograph. And then she wanted him to meet her husband, and we had to wait until his golf cart caught up with us, and all the time Webster was waiting to play. He was furious. It did my heart good.”

“I guess I’m in the wrong business,” said Des. “No one asks doctors for their autographs. You have to be a movie star or a senator, I guess.”

“If you’d listened to your old man way back when, you’d have them lined up getting your autograph,” said Gerald. “I wanted all my boys to be in politics.”

“Oh, Pa, don’t start that again,” said Des.

“I don’t understand why Harrison isn’t back,” said Kitt. “It’s not possible to swim this long. You can’t swim for four hours.”

“Maybe he went to visit Constant in the hospital,” said Grace. “Isn’t he supposed to write a book or something? Wasn’t that the whole point of having him here? Didn’t someone tell me that?”

“Yes, that’s probably where he is, at the hospital,” said Jerry. “Charlotte can bring him back.”

“I must admit,” said Grace, “that I am very disappointed that Harrison has given up his religion. I was really quite shocked last night when he told me that. And he’s separated from his wife, and there’s two little children. Can you imagine? It probably has something to do with that business with his family, his parents being murdered, and all that, and
no brothers and sisters. He never had a proper family life. Except for us, I suppose. Did you know he married Claire Rafferty? Did you know that, Maureen?”

“Yes, Ma, I knew,” said Maureen.

“The thing about marriage is, you just work it out,” said Grace. “You just don’t run off and separate every time you have a little spat.”

“I’ve never been such a fan of Harrison’s as you have, Ma,” said Maureen. “I think he’s a user. I think he’s used all of us in this family to get ahead. Beware of scholarship students who get too friendly is what I always say. Jerry and I have been on to Harrison for years, haven’t we, Jerry?”

“I never liked the guy,” said Jerry.

“You see?” said Maureen.

“You are hateful, Maureen,” said Kitt, in a low voice. “You are really hateful.”

A doorbell rang.

“That’s probably Harrison,” said Grace. “Wouldn’t you think he’d just walk in and not ring the doorbell? Now, you must stop talking about him, Maureen. And you too, Jerry. I’ve always had a soft spot for Harrison, and I know one day he’ll come back to the Church. They always do.”

Bridey walked into the room. “It’s a taxi. Did someone order a taxi?” she asked. “He said he was told to come here to this address.”

Murmurs of no went through the room. “There’s some mistake, Bridey,” said Grace. “Why in the world would someone need a taxi in this house with all those cars out there? Unless it’s one of the maids. Is one of the maids going into the city, Bridey?”

“No, ma’am,” said Bridey. “Not that I know of. I’m sure I would have been told. Not since Maureen fired Nanny the day before yesterday. She ordered a taxi.”

Down the stairs walked Harrison carrying his two bags.
“I ordered the taxi, Bridey,” he said. “I’m catching the seven-oh-two train into the city.”

“I didn’t know you were in the house, Harrison,” said Bridey. “When did you come back?”

“Oh, a while ago. There was no one around, so I went right upstairs.”

Jerry, stunned, looked at Harrison and then over at his father.

“Harrison,” said Kitt, “we’ve all been worried about you. I was about to call out the Coast Guard. I just finished saying no one could swim for four hours.”

“Could you give these bags to the driver, Bridey,” said Harrison as he walked into the room and over to Grace. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Bradley,” he said. He ignored Gerald Bradley. He ignored Maureen. He walked over to Kitt. “Good-bye, Kitt,” he said.

“I don’t understand, Harrison,” said Kitt. “I’ll drive you back to the city. There’s no reason for you to take the train.”

“No, thank you, Kitt. I’m going to go on the train.” He walked out of the room to the hall.

Kitt followed him. “Harrison, what’s happened? Something’s wrong. I can tell.”

“Ask him,” said Harrison, pointing to Jerry. He walked out the front door.

“What is it, Jerry?” asked Kitt.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” said Jerry. Jerry, ashen, followed Harrison outside.

Harrison opened the door of the cab. “The railroad station,” he said to the driver as he got in. He rolled down the window and looked out at Jerry. Gerald and Kitt were behind him. “Do you remember when we used to be shocked by murder, before it became an everyday thing, Jerry?”

Jerry stared at Harrison.

“Your friend Johnny Fuselli ought to wash up in
Shinnecock Bay by tomorrow morning, Jerry. I believe that was the direction of the tide. That is, if he hasn’t been eaten by sharks. I thought for a moment he was a shark. He came from behind and below me. He grabbed my leg. He pulled me under. He held his hand on my head to keep me from surfacing, but my rage to live exceeded his strength. I kicked him pretty hard and broke his nose. He was bleeding badly.”

Jerry, speechless, listened openmouthed to what was told him, scarcely able to believe his ears.

“Then, after we talked, he had a heart attack in the water,” said Harrison. “All that swimming at his age. That was quite an assignment you gave him, Jerry. You sent him on a mission his heart wasn’t in. Even people like Johnny have their limits. We had a very nice talk there in the water, in the last minutes of his life. I would like to have brought him in, but I wasn’t sure I was going to make it in myself, I was so tired out from the struggle. He said he understood. Nice fellow, Johnny.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Kitt, moving to the door of the taxi. “What are you saying, Harrison?”

“Go into the house, Kitt,” said Gerald.

“No, I won’t go into the house,” she replied.

“
Go into the house. Now
,” screamed Gerald.

Kitt, shocked, looked at her father. He had never spoken to her in such a fashion before. The sound of his harsh voice speaking so loudly brought several maids to the windows of the house. Then Kitt turned to Harrison, trying to understand what had been said. She turned and walked back to the house, where she stood in the hall and looked back.

“Oh, for your records, Jerry, when you confess this to Father Bill next Saturday, so you can receive Communion on Sunday, Johnny drowned bravely,” said Harrison. “ ‘Say hi to Maxine’ were his final words before he went under. We had a mutual friend, Johnny and I, in Arizona, called Maxine
Lonergan. I believe your father knew her, too. Didn’t you, Mr. Bradley? She was celebrated for her oral expertise.”

“Did he say that Fuselli drowned?” Gerald asked Jerry, ignoring Harrison.

“Yes,” replied Jerry.

Gerald, gray faced, suddenly looked old and sickly. “Good God,” he said. Years before, Gerald Bradley had hired the brash Johnny Fuselli away from Salvatore Cabrini when he was in charge of the slot-machine operations in Atlantic City. It was the habit of Grace Bradley never to acknowledge Johnny Fuselli’s presence and to instruct her daughters to do the same, but over the years Gerald Bradley had developed an affection for Johnny, although he had failed ever to tell him so.

“Is your father suggesting I should have allowed myself to be drowned so that Fuselli could carry out your orders successfully?” Harrison asked Jerry, ignoring Gerald, in the manner and voice that Gerald had just ignored him.

Jerry nervously looked toward the taxi driver to see if he had heard.

“Third World. Don’t worry,” said Harrison, indicating the driver with a movement of his head.

“I wish you had never come here,” cried Jerry.

“Your father shouldn’t have insisted when I declined his offer,” replied Harrison.

“I mean, in the first place—back in Scarborough Hill!”

“So do I. Finally, Jerry, you and I agree on something.”

“Get out. Stay out. We don’t ever want to see you again. I am speaking for my sister, Kitt, as well. Stay away from her. Right, Pa?”

Gerald Bradley, watching the exchange, suddenly toppled over and fell onto the gravel driveway. “Pa!” screamed Jerry.

Kitt ran to the porch, down the flower-bordered path,
and onto the driveway where her father was lying. “Pa!
Pa!
” she cried. The sound of her troubled voice carried. Charlie heard it in the chauffeur’s quarters above the garage. From elsewhere in the house, maids came running, as did the maids and gardener from the Webster Pryde house next door.

Gerald lay on the ground muttering something, but his tongue had become useless. His stern and forbidding expression had altered to one of fright and submission. His eyebrows twitched. His eyes, fearful, looked timidly and uneasily at the people looking down on him. He saw them exchanging glances. Then his eyes closed. Charlie, the chauffeur, crossed himself in the Catholic manner with an automatic movement of his right hand, knelt on the ground, and with downcast eyes bowed his head in prayer.

“Get up, get
up
!” snapped Jerry. “Don’t let him see you like that, Charlie, for God’s sake.”

Gerald, hearing, slowly opened his eyes. Seeing his children, he moved his lips to speak but only a choked sound came out, its meaning unintelligible. Again his eyelids drooped.

“I’ll get Ma,” said Kitt, quickly.

“No,” said Jerry. “We’ll carry him inside. Charlie, come here and help. Will you help, too?” he asked the Prydes’ gardener, who was standing watching the family drama. “Please, take a leg, will you?” he said to one of the maids. Gerald moaned piteously, and there was difficulty raising him.

“I read somewhere you’re not supposed to move them until the ambulance comes,” said the Prydes’ gardener.

“Just lift him!” snapped Jerry. “I know what I’m doing.”

“It said you could get sued if something goes wrong,” insisted the gardener.

All this Harrison watched from the interior of the taxi. Kitt looked over at him beseechingly.

“You gonna miss train,” said the driver.

Harrison reached into his pocket and took out a ten-dollar bill. “Here,” he said to the driver. “I’m getting out. Get my bags out.” He walked over to where Gerald was lying on the ground and took the leg that the Prydes’ gardener was reluctant to lift.

Slowly, they lifted Gerald by his shoulders and legs and carried him inside. Grace, standing at the doorway with Bridey, watched as her husband was carried past her.

Gerald looked at Grace imploringly and tried but failed to hold out his hand for her to take.

“Call Father Bill at the parish house,” Grace said calmly to Bridey. “Tell him to come quickly.” Bridey turned and ran toward the kitchen. “Bridey,” Grace called out after her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

Grace spoke in a loud whisper. “Tell him the last rites.”

“He’s wet his pants,” said Jerry, as they lifted him toward a long sofa.

“Don’t put him there, for heaven’s sake,” said Grace. “That’s just come back from the upholsterers. Put him there on the cane seat. Get some paper towels, Kitt. Don’t you think perhaps an ambulance, Jerry?”

“Yes, yes, an ambulance is coming, Ma,” said Jerry.

“Your mother doesn’t appear to be grieving too much,” said Harrison, as they waited for the ambulance.

“Oh, but she is, in her own way,” replied Kitt, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, as a slight scowl appeared, clouding the clearness of her forehead. He had seen that look before, on Constant’s face. It appeared whenever there was what was perceived to be a criticism of anyone in the family.