THE MISER

New Zealand Listener, Volume 15, Issue 385, 8 November 1946, Page 30

THE MISER

(Written for "The Listener" by

ALLONA

PRIESTLEY

HE trudged resentfully up the hill, basket in hand, tugging at the child who dragged behind her. It was one of those days when nothing would go right. She recognised the feel of it surging up in her, the choking tenseness, the anger. "Oh, do come on," she flung at the child. She knew she was walking too fast, that his arm was tired, but the anger dried up pity. She was unreasonable and hated it, but the anger would not let her alone. It’s not fair, she said to herself. It’s not fair. I don’t get a chance to be a person any more. If you’re a mother you get left out of all the fun, It’s not fair. She reached the house at last. The child was tired and difficult. He defied her till the resentment seemed to choke her, Crossly she dumped him in his cot. For a time his wailing dragged at her like prickly tentacles of sound, but at last he dropped asleep.

Tll feel better after a rest, she thought. ,_ She’ settled with a magazine. The stories were all about rich women with no children, women with careers of their own, women idolised by exciting and virile men. The resentment crouched at | the back of her mind, waiting. The uneasy weight of tasks stretching ahead was like ; smothering cloud. .When at last she forced herself back into time, she was late. Now she would have to hurry all afternoon. * * * "TOO soon the children were home from school. They and their friends came in like a wave, spreading through every part of the house. Impossible to escape them, their noise, the mess. They chattered together, each trying to be the first to tell a piece of news. "Oh, be quiet," she snapped. The chatter faltered, trailed off. Slowly. they went. Soon she heard the radio turned on, heard mounting scuffles and shrieks from the sitting room. She went in savagely. The cushions were flung about.

The children were dancing noisily to the music. "Get out of here," she said. "Get right out of here. I’ve had as much as I can stand." They went before her anger.

Nothing but noise, she thought. Beating at me like blows. Noise and work. That radio .... She went quickly to turn it off. Then she paused, her hand on the switch. It was a choir singing. Clear

high voices echoing through vaulted space, moving and weaving" like colours in a pattern. It's lovely, she thought. I’ve heard it before, I think. It’s lovely. She dropped into the chair beside the radio. The clear high voices rose on wings, beyond time and space. Slowly her tensed body relaxed. Her arms hung heavy, her shoulders lay back against the chair. The taut anger in her face died away. It’s like happy solemn children, she thought. Like children dancing sedately. She thought of her own children dancing. I shouldn’t have snapped at them, Just because I feel like this. But they never let me alone. On. and on wove the voices, deep voices now, moving up and through the pattern of clear high sound. Infinite patterns, weaving surely towards some rest. A new part of her seemed to grow from the music. They never let you alone because .you are always running away, it said. What a queer idea, she thought. But it’s true isn’t it? I. wouldn't like to be single again. The emptiness of the’ good times rushed suddenly at her from the old days. Oh, it was all right them. I was young. But I’ve grown out of that really. This is my life. This is the work for me to do. Why do I keep running away? Up and up soared the voices, carrying her with them. You're afraid, the voices told her. You’re afraid you'll lose something. You’re a miser. You hoard yourself. That’s true, the new part of her cried. Now the voices reached the end to which they had moved, perfect and inevitable. Suddenly she felt that she too had reached an end. She was at rest. The resentment had gone, the hot choking and the anger had gone. She felt serene, completely at peace. "You have been listening . . ." Quickly she switched it off. If it had a name it would just be a piece of music. ‘She would feel she’d been silly. The resentment would come again. * Pe * HE went to the door. The children were playing in the half light. They saw her and checked uncertainly. When she smiled they shouted and went back to play with new zest. She turned back to the dishevelled room. It’s only the cushions, she thought, putting them back. Now the furniture was quiet too, watchful but content, It even seems to affect the house when I’m cross. : She looked at her soiled apron and untidy shoes. I’d better change, she said to herself. The clock struck. She was amazed. But it’s only ten minutes since I sat down. It seems hours. I'll have plenty of time. The serenity glowed in her. It won’t last, she said, hurting herself. But the new part of her said, You'll lose it, but you'll find it again. Once you know it you'll find it again! Over the dinner table her husband looked at her. "What’s made you so pleased?" he wanted to know. , She looked at them all. The children were chattering again, the baby was struggling messily with his plate. "I was thinking what a nice family this is," she said.