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Dame Muriel Spark delivers a delightfully alarming novel, full of high society and low cunning.
One October evening five posh London couples gather for a dinner party, enjoying "the pheasant (flambe in cognac as it is)" and waiting for the imminent arrival of the late-coming guest Hilda Damien, who has been unavoidably detained due to the fact that she is being murdered at this very moment143 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1990
“Many families have at least one fairly mad member, whether in or out of an institution. But the families do not normally consult the mad people even if they have lucid periods; the families do not go to them for advice. The Murchies were different.”
"Do you think I have got the evil eye?”
“Think it? - I know it. It’s quite obvious. Even your block-headed parents and sister have begun to notice.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Margaret, “I’m tired of being the passive carrier of disaster. I feel frustrated. I almost think it’s time for me to take my life and destiny in my own hands, and actively make disasters come about. I would like to do something like that.” She sat on the sofa beside Magnus, tossing her red hair, rather like a newly graduated student seriously discussing her future with her college tutor.
“Perpetrate evil?” Magnus offered.
“Yes. I think I could do it.”
“The wish alone is evil,” said Magnus, with the distant equanimity of a college tutor who has two or three other students to see that afternoon.
“Glad to hear it,” said Margaret.
'Sometimes I wonder, Magnus, if you advise us right.'I guess I have a soft spot for the wisdom of 'the mad'.
'Who else have you got?' Magnus bellowed. 'Third-rate lawyers, timid little bankers from London. No guide whatsoever for a Scot.'
'Magnus, keep your voice lower. Hush it.'
Magnus lowered his voice. 'Who do you have,' he said, 'but me? Out of my misfortune, out of my affliction I prognosticate and foreshadow. My divine affliction is your only guide.'
“Your mother’s coming on after dinner,” Chris says to William Damien.
“Good,” says Hurley.
But Hilda Damien will not come in after dinner. She is dying, now, as they speak.
Destiny, my destiny, thought Hilda. Is she going to poison me? What is she plotting? She is plotting something. This is a nightmare.