Fry". But on top of that, she's enamelled - the only one of
the three that is. And the colours aren't at all like those of
most of the Girl-in-a-Swing factory toys that we have. The
hair, for instance - one would expect to see that streaky
chocolate colour that you get with the toys; but it isn't it's
yellow. So almost certainly some different man must
have enamelled her. It wasn't the hair I was principally
looking at, though: it's that blue bodice. I wonder whether
by any chance you know the candlestick in the London
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Museum - the one known as "Bird Looking to the Right"?'
'No, I'm afraid I don't.'
'Well, that's Girl-in-a-Swing all right; and in that, too,
the enamelling includes this blue colour, which is characteristic
of Bow rather than Chelsea. One piece corroborates the
other.'
I found my tongue. 'I suggest, as the barristers say, that
John Fry had a porcelain factory at Bow which was a subsidiary
of the Bow factory proper, and that that subsidiary
was in fact the Girl-in-a-Swing factory.'
There was a further pause.
'Well,' said Mallet slowly, 'I suppose we'll never know for
certain, will we? It's an interesting notion. One must always
beware of jumping from "may" to "is", simply because we'd
all like to be sure. I'll stick to my task, Mr Desland, which is
the very pleasant one of telling you that this figure is undoubtedly
genuine and that it's unique in being enamelled.
It's certainly going to set a lot of people talking, don't you
think?' he added with a chuckle.
'Thank you very much. I know it's - well - distasteful in
a way to talk about monetary value, and 1 know that neither
you nor any other museum will value pieces - quite rightly.
But might I just ask you whether you think it's valuable?
No more than that.'
'This has got to be quite off the record, of course, and
please don't quote me, but speaking purely as a private
individual I'd say that if you were to decide to put it into
auction it would be almost bound to go for something in
six figures. And it could well be quite a long way up that
range.'
I stepped out through the doors of the V. & A. into a world
grown strange. As when snow has fallen, the commonplace
had undergone a universal transformation; yet this, unlike
that brought about by snow, lay not in my surroundings
but in my own apprehension of them. Everything seemed
changed; that is, my impression of everything - the sharp,
black shadows on the pavements, the great leaves of the
291
plane trees hanging limp and motionless as though cut out
of cardboard, the traffic, the people walking slowly in the
intense heat. It was as though they and I had been mysteriously
drawn apart from one another, so that I might have
been observing a scene in the past, or the future. They no
longer seemed familiar, but like things seen for the first time.
I suppose most people have known what it is to experience
from time to time such trance-like states, but usually they
pass quickly and ordinary perception returns. Now, however,
the sense of unreality did not leave me. I stood staring about
me, thinking it strange that none stared at me. Like someone
suffering from partial amnesia, I remembered vaguely
that I had a purpose and then that I had a destination: but
only after a little was I able to recall what these were.
I had an hour and a quarter until my train, but there was
nowhere I wanted to go and nothing I wanted to do. I wondered
whether to telephone Kathe, but decided not to. I
would tell her the news face to face, at home.
To myself I seemed solitary, but in the way that a teacher
is solitary in a playground full of children, or a night-sister
in a hospital ward. I alone possessed a certain knowledge
conferring a unique view of everything about me. Even
though the two halves of one truth that I knew - namely,
that I was Kathe's lover and that I carried with me a ceramic
discovery of major importance - might not be communicable
or indeed of the least interest to the passers-by or the policeman
on the corner, nevertheless both had a value beyond
self-interest; and power to enrich, indirectly, the whole
world. When Man is at one, I thought, God is one. He needs
us as much as we need Him. It was not the thought of money
which preoccupied me as I walked up the Brompton Road.
And yet, seeing a ragged, broken-down creature hunched on
a wall against the railings, I muttered, 'Will you have a
drink?', thrust a pound into his hand and hurried away
before he could speak. It was for my relief, not his.
I took a taxi to Paddington and for half an hour walked
slowly about the station, looking at the people, the trains,
the porters loading wicker baskets for Fishguard, the bronzeblack
figure of the young soldier, his tin hat pushed back on
292
his head, for ever reading his letter where he stands on the
plinth of the war memorial. I've done something for you all
now, I thought: I've done something for you now. I had done
nothing for them, yet I was not deluding myself. I had done
what I came to do, and I had not done it for gain alone.
In the train I sat in a corner seat, holding the box on my
knees, neither reading nor paying attention to the other
passengers. It cannot have been altogether silent in the
carriage, yet to me it seemed so. The trees, the fields and
streams speeding past in the tranquil evening outside - it
was I alone who could truly perceive them - a remote, bright
world through which I was racing on, as it were with wings
on my feet, towards my lover. I might have been under water,
looking through my glass mask at a submerged brilliance
never before seen.
I was almost carried on beyond the station, coming to
myself just in time to stumble out on the platform as the
guard was blowing his whistle. Yet this - as though I were
playing a part which required it of me - seemed entirely
right. When I gave up my ticket at the barrier the collector,
taking it from me, dropped it and then stooped to pick it up.
I had known he would, and had known, too, that my key
would stick for a moment in the door-lock of the car.
The garden was lying still as a lake in the heat - the cornfield,
the downs, all still. I walked into the house and called,
and sure enough there was no reply. I put the Girl in her
place, went upstairs, changed into an old shirt and trousers
and came down into the garden.
And here an even deeper intensity of solitude absorbed
me into itself. The garden I had always known in every detail
was unchanged. Yet it was changed, as a theatre is changed
when the play begins; filled, by a spiritual superimposition,
with a latent and still unrevealed meaning. Intuitively, I
knew that it was not possible, now, for anything to interrupt
&nb
sp; or intrude upon this place. Supposing that there might
happen to be someone making his way towards it at this
moment, he would not arrive. Bemused in the bright evening,
I stood looking about me, knowing only that there was something
which I was appointed to do.
293
I walked slowly down the lawn. As I came to the farther
end the silence was suddenly broken by a tumbling flock of
sparrows. Out of the hornbeam hedge they flew, twittering
together, and disappeared through the bushes in the wilderness.
I followed them, and as I pushed open the gate behind
the flowerbeds a hare leapt out of the grass and dashed away
in the direction of the field. I had never seen a hare in the
garden before.
Step by step - for I was now in fear - I made my way between
the rhododendrons and came to where the tap stood
upright in the grass. The little hollow beneath was filled with
water - a warm, shallow pool as big as one's body - and into
this the tap was still dripping, drop by hollow drop in the
stillness. On the surface floated a scattering of rose petals.
I was not startled when I saw Kathe. She was sitting naked
in the swing, an arm raised to either rope, barely moving
back and forth as she sat watching me. Her breasts and
shoulders, glistening with drops of water, were shaded by her
wide, green-ribboned straw hat, but her belly and thighs, as
the swing moved, were flame-coloured by the sunset gleaming
between the cob-nut trees.
I went towards her. She arched herself forward, dropped
to the ground and we stood facing one another, I with the
day's heat still upon me, she smooth and cool, bare-footed
in the grass. I might have fled, for I was very much afraid:
or I might have knelt before her; but she grasped my hand.
'You know now?'
'Yes.'
'Who I am?'
'You are not to be named. You have many names.'
'And yet I have need of you, my subject, my lord.'
Then, making me naked, she knelt before me, and having
for a while done as she pleased, drew me down with her on
the green, sun-baked sky.
Our being travelled very far, for, as I could see clearly,
the blades of grass above my eyes and close beside her head
were in reality forests hundreds of feet below us. The green
beetle clambering astray through them had leagues to go,
and wisely flew off across the distant-rolling plains. I per294
ceived also that the red clouds and one emergent star beneath
me, alternately hidden and revealed by her plunging
shoulders, had been landmarks well-known to Theodora,
Phryne and Semiramis. I myself, dizzy at that great depth,
became lost for a time, striving half-frenzied in a marshy
wood close beside that same sea where the bull swam with
Europa on his back: but then by good luck I came upon a
white, winged mare grazing by the shore, mounted her and
spurred away until we came to a city at the end of the world,
where there was no time and men's minds and bodies were
dissolved in an enchanted pool from which they were re-born
to bless others by their grief, though unable to give any
account of what they had undergone. After that drowning I
was carried home asleep, across many miles of ocean, in one
of the Phaeacian ships of King Alcinous.
When I woke the stars were shining in a clear night sky,
Jupiter so bright as almost to cast a shadow. I was sprawled
alone in the grass, my shirt and trousers crumpled on the
ground beside me. I felt cold. The cross-tree of the swing
stood grim and lonely against the starlight, the little pool
had drained away into the ground and an owl was calling
from the far side of the garden. I got up, gathered my
clothes and walked, naked as I was, back across the lawn
and in through the French windows.
Kathe was in bed, sleeping sound as a leafless tree. For a
moment I bent my head close to hers, but did not kiss her.
Her breath smelt fresh and faintly sweet, like apples, and
one bare arm was lying outside the sheet. Without washing
or cleaning my teeth I lay down beside her and crept into
sleep like a hunted beast seeking refuge among thick fern.
22
I WOKE with a headache, and in a few minutes realized that
I was not well. It hurt to move. I tried telling myself that this
wouldn't do and I must take a firm line, but could neither
295
summon the will to sit up nor bring my mind to bear on the
coming day. Swallowing, I felt pain in my throat and the
passages of my ears.
I could hear Kathe in the bathroom and called out to her.
She came in at once, still wet, with a towel round her shoulders,
and sat down on the bed.
'Oh, Alan, do I look dreadful? Don't you like me undressed
this morning?'
'Why d'you say that?*
'Well, you shut your eyes and turned your head away.'
'I'm so sorry, darling; forgive me, it was quite unconscious.
I called because I'm afraid I don't feel very well. I
think I must have caught a chill last night.'
'Damp night air? My fault - I shouldn't have left you
asleep out there, should I? But it's Wednesday, Liebchen.
You can stay where you are. You'll soon feel better, I'm sure.
I'll pop down on the 'bus and come back at lunch-time. Mrs
Spencer'll be in this morning, anyway, so you won't be all
by yourself. Like a cup of tea?'
I stared at her, feverish and uncomprehending. She appeared
entirely unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Her
kindly, matter-of-fact nonchalance made her seem almost
like a stranger.
'Kathe, what happened last night?'
'What d'you mean, what happened?'
I turned my head again, pressing my hot eyes against the
pillow.
'What - oh, I don't know, I can't think straight - I mean,
what happened?'
'But, dearest, you know what happened! After all, you
were there as well as me.'
The effort of finding words was almost more than I could
make, but I had to do it, just as one has to answer a telephone.
'Kathe, I'm terribly sorry - could you just pretend I've lost
my memory or something, and tell me what happened last
night, just as if I didn't know?'
'I'm beginning to be afraid you really are ill.'
'Please!' It came out in almost a whimper.
296
'Well, all right, dear. Don't get upset. Where shall I start?
It was terribly hot - absolutely baking - and I'd done some
cold meat and salad for supper - which we never had, nor
the Riesling either - and then I thought it might be nice to
go down and fill up the little hollow under the tap, like you
said you and Flick used to do when you were little. So I did
that and lay in it for ages and it was simply gorgeous, and
then I - this all seems very silly, Alan. D'you really want me
to go on?'
'Yes, please.'
'Well, then I sat in the swing and forgot all about th
e time
until I heard you lumping along through the shrubbery. And
then you came round the corner like a sort of human goat
and just raped me - it was sheer heaven, even by our standards
- for about half an hour. Look, I'm all scratched and
torn about, see? here, and here; only I never noticed till later.
And after that you simply went off to sleep as if you'd been
'it on the 'ead 'eavy 'ammer. So I thought - I'm so sorry,
Alan, really I am. I never thought you'd catch a chill - I
thought well, to hell with him, sleeping it off there like the
King of Babylon, and I went off to bed by myself. I really
was feeling quite done up and can you wonder? I shouldn't
have been so ungrateful - you're a marvellous lover, and I
know you need me as much as I need you. But - oh, Alan,
you are being hard on me! I think now I'm beginning to see
the point of all this. You're making me what Mr Steinberg
would call "the heavy", right? You wanted to make me
admit I left you alone out there, is that it?'
'Oh, no, no, no! Honestly not!' It was all going wrong,
and my throat was hurting so abominably. 'But - but Kathe,
dear, what did you say to me? For instance, did you say anything
when I first came up to you by the swing?'
'Well, I expect so, don't you, but how on earth can I
remember now - I mean, d'you really want a blow-by-blow
account? What on earth for?'
"No, darling, no.' I took hold of her hand. 'I just meant well,
I meant, did you experience anything unusual? Anything
out of the ordinary?'
'Oh, rather - I was out of my tiny mind. But Alan, I've
297
already told you you were marvellous - you don't really need
to ask for my praise, surely?'
'Oh, dear! I didn't mean that at all. I meant - the trance
- and you were - you were -' I came to a confused stop.
'The trance? Poor love, I don't think you know what you
do mean just now, do you? Look, you stay there -'
'Kathe; you won't answer me! You're impenetrable!'
'That's one thing I'm most certainly not, as you very well
know. You just stop talking rubbish, now, and stay there,
and I'll go and get you a good, hot cup of tea.'
'Kathe; one more thing-'
'/a?' She stopped in the doorway with the slightest show
of impatience.
'The Girl in a Swing's real. Mallet says so. And she's worth
more than a hundred thousand pounds!'
'Well, good for the White Horse! I'm glad it makes you
happy.' And she turned and went downstairs with as much
apparent concern as if I had told her we had got a mention
in the flower show.
All that day I lay in bed, feeling wretchedly ill. Before she
left for the shop I asked Kathe to draw the curtains. I
couldn't read or listen to the wireless. I slept and woke
and swallowed aspirin and drank tea. When Kathe came
back at lunch-time I asked her to bring up the Girl in a
Swing and put her on the chest of drawers where I could see
her.
I shivered and sweated continually. Utterly exhausted and
spent, to myself I seemed like a shipwrecked survivor lying
prone above the surf; as though escaped, by a miracle, from
some desperate ordeal which no living creature could hope
to undergo and survive. I was afraid of what I remembered
and of all I did not understand. What had happened? Might
it happen again? Did Kathe really know nothing more than
she had said? But I could not get my thoughts together, and
slipped back into sleep.
Next day, although I felt better, Kathe would not allow
me to go down to the shop.
'Alan, if we're going to be so rich it doesn't really matter,
does it, if you miss another day? Deirdre's an absolute tower
298
of strength and I promise you I'll bring back any bills or
letters you ought to see. It's lovely weather. Why don't you
just sit in the garden? - and sit in it, love, don't try to work
in it.'
On Friday morning my temperature was normal - Kathe
had bought a thermometer - and after a late breakfast I
went down to Northbrook Street. Deirdre, of course, had
seen the announcement of my mother's engagement in the
previous day's Newbury News, and was full of excitement
and questions. I chatted to her for a little and then went up
to the office to look at the day's letters. There was not much
in the post, however, and having given Mrs Taswell enough
to keep her busy for the time being, I sat on at my desk,