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CHAPTER 9

Mother and Daughter

and the Pregnant Weather of the Hu Home

Cleo and Margaret were not in such a state of shock following the epochal confrontation with Hu, as he himself was soon found to be. For his part, the peril of his position might have been accepted if it had not contradicted the most cherished visions of his heart; but for theirs, it was grossly apparent. The man had ceased categorically to be accessible by reason, hung by his own teleological tirades and impossible dreams, as surely as if they had been formal hangmen.

What should they do ? Never at a loss for wit, Margaret conceived the plan of treating him absolutely as normal, neither needlessly arousing his delusive dynamic, nor supinely allowing him to rant which, after all, was not likely, for his recent baring of his withered soul was far from usual. He would undoubtedly retract, not what he thought, but the brazen openness with which he had exposed it. In this way, there might be hope that the sheer precipice of deceit which he was attempting to climb with his wizened spiritual muscles and wandering mind would daunt him, and the normalcy of things might induce him to seek relief and to move towards some semblance of sanity.

Cleo, however, perhaps like her famous namesake, felt more dramatically inclined.

Margaret, she asserted, I don't think you quite realise the severity of this spiritual attack in Hu's mental framework. In my view, the man, though he is my husband, is to all intents and purposes mad. If we set about seeking medical help, say when he goes for his prostate operation in a few months, there might be more hope. After all, the specialist might be able to induce him to talk, and give him some tonic ideas!

Mother, Margaret responded in a way which made Cleo all but wonder if she had been too lax with Margaret before she became Dr Margaret, what doctor will reach him where we don't ? It is not theories of the soul, dressed in white coats and wandering around with pills and philosophic pap which we need for Hu, but Christ. We don't need spiritual treatment from people who are quite likely not to realise the spirit is there, like people operating on intestines who do not know they exist (the intestines, that is); we need action from Hu's source. His life car is off the road.

True, my dear, her mother mused, yet if we do not get outside help, he may go the way of all flesh, except in his case, dying with a sort of intense, immense mortality before his time, so that his body will be a sort of individual mausoleum for the dead person within.

Why don't you talk to him about the Lord ? That is the crucial outside help.

It is because I have done so quite often before, and there is a cyclone warning in his eyes every time I raise the issue. It reminds me of Hosea, Ephraim is joined with his idols, let him alone - you know,  Hosea 4:17.

Only the Lord can dissolve that super-glue that fixes him, stickier in his heart to bond it to ruin, than any spider's web for the fly awaiting the devouring lust of the captor.

YOU talk to him. He cannot divorce you.

Mother, are you afraid of that ?

No, my dear, for in a way it would be a deliverance; but I have to be a prudent wife, and to arouse the ire in his super-sensitive and arrogant heart, as it has now become, so soon after that meeting would be like lighting a bow-torch after an oil tanker had just ruptured, leaving a million gallons on the water.

Perhaps then I'll await an opportunity. At least, I have no need to be in his house as much as you.

You'll have my blessing in that, dear.

Margaret had the flair of battle in her eye, and on returning to her apartment, listened to Handel's Messiah in its chaste but exuberant beauty, sensing the chasm between this continuity with truth and Hu's intoxicated happy hour, himself a friend of strange fire, burning so destructively as to render him a mere effigy of himself. What should she do ?

The next day she had an unexpected visit from an old school friend, and on condition of secrecy, shared the problem; and as they were both keen evangelical Christians, they prayed concerning it. They felt Margaret should wait at least a month, and then approach the subject in some gracious seeming situation, so that the danger of mere reaction might be minimised, and time allowed for him to ponder in himself all the things he had said - if he had any mind for it. Sometimes, they agreed, conscience could be more effective than a thousand voices, and reality could come like the light of morning after a night storm.

Margaret however continued her preparations for their journey to the moon, feeling that at least there she might be safe from Hu's machinations; for her suspicion was now thoroughly awakened concerning the two perils which had recently happened to her brother Harry. The fake police 'arrest' in itself was not significant, but when combined with the Niagara incident, this had the air of the surreal, if it was not part of someone's plan. COULD it be his father's ? If so, was it a warning or a madness that would kill his own son ? or both ? Certainly, domestic exposure would be a galling if not actually perilous development for Hu's mania.

Indeed, she warned her mother of the danger to herself, but Cleo simply answered that the Cleopatras of this world did not easily take to their heels. At that, Margaret replied that it seemed her famous namesake had done just that at the crucial time of confrontation with Rome, with Mark Anthony, when she simply sailed off. This, her mother reminded her, is a Christian Cleo, and I am not about to show fear or threaten my husband. You two go off to your moon, for you should be relatively safe there; and while you are on that mission, your profiles will grow, making Hu realise that if he should think of any violence towards me, then there are voices that might be heard quickly from 'up above'!

Cleo certainly had the courage of her convictions and the boldness to match Hu, her daughter conceived as she musingly watched those dark brown eyes of her mother in their sagacity: not smouldering like Hu's when he was roused, but gleaming with a hidden joy and totally without fear. It was, after all, the lady with the auburn hair, maternal figure with the slightly curved nose, the face as if carved in marble with its solidity moulded somehow in a fragility of bone texture which brought to the whole an air of nobility, who had stirred her own adolescent fires. This had helped launch her for the work of medicine, a service for the Lord which could bring spiritual sanity to mental and physical woes.

Mother, Margaret ventured, I know the Lord will look after you. I trust your composure will be kept as you walk in this mine field of Hu's wild dreams in the presence of fawning servitors, pride ministering to pride, ambitious associates only too willing to lead him on to their own imaginary profit, to vault over him if he fall, and taste in either event, a power which has already intoxicated them, before they drain the drink of illusion.

At this precise moment, Hu stormed into the room. Cleo regarded him with that quiet courage and winsome composure which so irritated him when his temper had flared. What are you two discussing
now ? how to run my house! his words came hissing in what was almost a conspiratorial atmosphere.

Not precisely, retorted Cleo. My dear ? is there something I can do for you ?

DO for me! the still angry Hu mocked! You could seek another home.

You do not need a home, in my view, said Margaret, the doctor now, just at present dad.

You would say that to your own father ?

The only other interpretation, dad, would be that you felt it was time to separate from Cleo, and if that was your meaning, it would be unthinkably vulgar to announce it publicly, in my presence, when I am talking to mother.

Suddenly Hu felt alone. Perhaps you are right, he responded. Nevertheless, a further reference to this sort of thing and I shall certainly disinherit you, Margaret, so remember that. There are insults that are past bearing, and your being a doctor is all that has saved you from ...

From what ? precisely .... dad ? asked his daughter, whose coolness in the fire also irritated Hu almost inexpressibly.

Hu glowered ineffectually. Women, he found, were not nearly as manipulable as men; but then, reason reminded him, the men with whom he dealt were often either dependents, in the sense that he could make or break their careers, or else national leaders on their own diplomatic fronts, wanting him to do this or that, so that theirs was a degree of submissiveness in the interests of a better deal. He almost began to wonder if he were, after all, just a very ordinary man who had discovered Manipulation Highway by accident, and who did not know much beyond it.

Margaret, sensing an unusual stunning, for the sobriety of Hu's countenance was readily read by her sharp eye, decided to remain silent. Cleo set about getting lunch, to adorn the occasion of Hu's being home at such an hour. The air hung like an atmospheric greyness, with the brooding feeling of electricity and lightning not far away. It was as if they were in some seaside scene, where huge clouds were beginning to gather, and the very waters seemed ready to bathe in some torrential anointing from above.

It could have become a painting, lurid, pregnant, dark, with a shimmer of light moving quietly here and there as the sun penetrated doubtfully between chinks in the clouds, and wondered if perhaps really, it was time to become obscured totally.