This sounded so grotesque that Mor had to look up to see whether the old man was serious. ‘I’ll never be important,’ said Mor, ‘so don’t worry!’ He felt too moved to reply seriously.
‘I’m immensely glad,’ said Demoyte. ‘You’ll get out of this hole, away from pious Evvy and dreary Prewett, and dotty Bledyard, up to London, where you’ll meet all sorts of people. And women. Out of this hole, where all one can do is pass the hours until it’s time to die.’
Nan had called Demoyte morbid. Mor himself knew something of the old man’s moods, and of the melancholy which afflicted him when he was alone. He said briskly, ‘Come, sir, none of that. I certainly don’t despise this place. I only hope I’ll be up to the other job. And by the way, please don’t mention this to anyone just yet, not till it’s officially made public.’
‘With an M.P.’s salary,’ said Demoyte doggedly, ‘you can send Felicity to college.’
‘That’s just what I think I can’t do,’ said Mor. ‘It’s too risky. In my present situation at least I know exactly how much money I can reckon on. But in that job, with unpredictable expenses, it’ll be a long time before I know where I stand. Anyhow, Nan would never agree. It’ll be hard enough to get her to accept the M.P. plan at all - and she’d never agree if we were going to run this extra financial risk as well. I might get away with one of these things, but not with both.’ As he put it thus, it occurred to Mor that in a way he was sacrificing Felicity’s future to his own. This was an extremely unpleasant thought.
‘Oh, Nan, Nan, Nan!’ said Demoyte. ‘I’m tired of that woman’s name. Who is she that she has to be consulted about every damn thing that you do?’
‘She’s my wife,’ said Mor.
‘You’re as timid as a water-snail,’ said Demoyte, ‘and a meaner man with money I never encountered. Pah! I despise this meanness. Felicity must have her chance. Listen, and don’t turn down this proposal because I’ve been rude and you feel you have to put up a show of pride. Think of your daughter’s future instead. I’ll pay for Felicity to go to the university. She’ll get a county grant anyway, so it won’t be much. I’ve got a pile of money in the bank, and there’s nothing to spend it on in this God-forsaken backwater, and as you know I hate travelling, and as you also know I’ll very shortly be dead. So let’s have no false reluctance or other posturing. I want that girl to go to college and there’s an end to the matter. I shall be wretched if she doesn’t. Don’t cross me here.’
Mor sat rigid, leaning forward and still staring into his glass. He suddenly felt as if he wanted to weep. He didn’t dare to look at Demoyte. ‘You are immensely good, sir,’ he said, ‘and I am very moved indeed, I think you know how much, by your saying this. I won’t pretend that I just couldn’t accept the offer. But it needs some thinking over. I might be able to afford it myself. Also, quite honestly, I’m not sure that Nan would agree to our accepting money from you.’
‘Oh, give me patience!’ said Demoyte. ‘Then deceive her, boy! Tell her it’s a bonus from Evvy, tell her you found it in the street, tell her you won it on a horse race! Deceive her, deceive her! Only don’t bother me with this nonsense.’
‘I’ll think it over, sir,’ said Mor. Demoyte then filled up Mor’s glass and they began to talk about something else.
It was about an hour later that, rather full of brandy, Mor decided that he must go home. Demoyte was already getting sleepy, and Mor saw him up the stairs to his bedroom. Then he came down again, put on his coat, and let himself quietly out of the front door.
He had to pause immediately when he got outside, so brilliant and heavily perfumed was the night. The moon was rising, and was visible as a great source of light behind the trees, and there was an immense concourse of stars, crowding up towards the milky way. It was one of those nights, so rare in England, when the stars give positive light to the earth. The garden was present on either side of him, dearly visible and, although he could feel no breeze, rustling softly. He looked up and could see the light on in Demoyte’s room, above the door on the left. The right-hand window was the end window of the library, which stood above Handy’s boudoir. It was dark. Mor walked across the gravel on to the grass and passed through the door which led to the big lawn at the side of the house, outside the drawing-room window. As he walked, the moon rose above the trees and cast his shadow before him. He paused, enjoying the sensation of walking quite silently upon the moonlit grass, and turned to see his footsteps left behind him, clearly marked in the dew and revealed by the moon. He felt an extreme lightness, as if he had become a spirit. Very distantly the traffic rumbled upon the main road. But here the silence hung in the air like an odour. He moved out into the middle of the lawn and looked up at the house.
The room at the end of the house to his right, which adjoined the library and had one window looking out at the back and one window looking on to the lawn, was the best guest-room. There was a light on in this room. The curtains were tightly drawn. That must be Miss Carter’s room, thought Mor. She hasn’t gone to bed after all. It must have been a fiction, about being tired. She must have been fed up with Demoyte. Or with me, he thought ruefully. Then quite unexpectedly Mor was struck with a dolorous pain. He was really unsure at first whether it was a physical pain or some sort of thought, so quickly did it come upon him. He realized in a moment that it was an agonizing wish to see Miss Carter again, to see her soon, to see her now. Mor stood quite still, breathing rather fast. I’m drunk, he said to himself. He never remembered feeling quite like this before. He wanted terribly, desperately, to see Miss Carter. I must be ill, thought Mor. He wondered what to do. It was all so inexplicable. He thought, it would be quite easy to go back into the house. The front door is still unlocked. And go up the stairs and along the corridor and knock at her bedroom door. At the thought that this was possible and that absolutely nothing stopped him from doing it if he wished Mor felt so amazed that he swayed and almost fell. The pain of knowing that it was possible was for a moment extreme.
As he recovered himself and turned slightly he saw that someone was watching him, standing in the shadow of one of the trees. Mor froze with fear and indecision. He took a step or two back. Then the figure began to move and come towards him, gliding forward noiselessly across the grass. For one wild moment Mor thought that it was Miss Carter. He tried to say something, but the silence stifled his voice. Then he saw that the figure was too tall. It was Miss Handforth.
‘Why, it’s Mr Mor!’ said Miss Handforth in her sonorous voice, scattering the moonlit night about her in fragments. ‘You gave me quite a turn, standing there so quiet.’
Mor turned about and began to walk quickly back towards the front of the house. He didn’t, above all, want Miss Carter’s attention drawn to the fact that he had been standing outside looking up at her window. The strange sensation had quite gone. Now he only wanted to get away, and not to have to hear Miss Handforth’s brassy voice echoing through the darkness.
She followed him, still talking. ‘I saw you out of the drawing-room window as I was pulling back the curtains, and I said to myself, there’s an intruder out there on the lawn. So I had to come out and see who it was.’
‘That was very brave of you, Handy,’ said Mor in a low voice. They had reached the front of the house now, and Mor had gone a little way down the drive, followed by Miss Handforth. He saw that Demoyte’s light was out.
‘You can’t be too careful,’ said Miss Handforth. ‘There really are some odd characters about. There’s someone been reported hanging around this vicinity lately, a vagabond man, a gipsy. Probably waiting to see who he can rob.’
‘I hope you lock the house up well at night,’ said Mor. He felt that he was being shown off the premises. They had almost reached the end of the drive.
‘He won’t steal anything from our house!’ said Miss Handforth. ‘Good night, Mr Mor.’
‘Good night, Handy,’ said Mor. He felt extremely disconsolate. He decided to walk back by the main road.
Chap
ter Eight
YOU can’t behave anyhow to people and expect them to love you just the same!‘ said Nan to Felicity.
‘That’s just what I do expect,’ said Felicity sulkily, and went back into her bedroom.
Mor, overhearing this exchange from downstairs, thought, she is right, that is just what we do expect. He looked at his watch. He was teaching at two-fifteen. It was time to go. He called good-bye, and as no one answered, left the house, banging the front door behind him.
Nan pursued Felicity into her bedroom. ‘You have a good look in here,’ she said, ‘and you’ll probably find it. It can’t have gone very far. If you don’t see it, you’d better look in my room again. I don’t want to discover it in my slippers or in my bed.’
‘It’s no good,’ said Felicity miserably, ‘it must have crawled away into some crack in the floorboards and it’ll die in there!’ She began to cry.
Nan looked on exasperated. ‘What possessed you to bring a nasty slug into the house, anyway?’ she said.
‘It wasn’t nasty,’ said Felicity. ‘It was very sweet when it stretched itself out, it was so long and smooth, and its horns were so nice. I only left it for a moment. It was curled up into a ball, like a lump of jelly, and it kept moving to and fro, but wouldn’t bring its horns out. I thought it was stuck, and I went for some water to wash it with, and when I came back it was gone.’
‘Well, let’s hope it went out of the window,’ said Nan.
‘I’m sure it didn’t. It’s just lost inside the house somewhere. I’ll never find it now.’ Felicity blew her nose.
‘You’ve changed your room back again,’ said Nan with disapproval.
‘I like it better this way,’ said Felicity. She threw herself on the bed and went on crying.
‘Oh, stop it, dear,’ said Nan, ‘do stop it, there’s absolutely nothing to cry about. Just pull yourself together and do something practical. I’ve told you several times to leave out your summer frocks for washing. If I don’t do them today they won’t be ready in time for going to Dorset’ She went away downstairs.
Felicity went on crying for a while. Then she dried her tears and began searching again for the slug. It was not to be found anywhere. A few more tears fell as she pictured its fate. It was all my fault, thought Felicity. It was so happy out there in the garden eating the plants - and I had to go and bring it indoors, away from its world. I won’t ever do such a thing again.
Felicity went into the bathroom and examined her eyes. They were rather red. She washed her face in cold water. Then she decided that she would go into school and look for Don. This was something which was strictly forbidden by all the authorities concerned. Her presence in his room could bring quite dire penalties down upon Donald - and Felicity herself had frequently been told by her parents never to enter the precincts of St Bride’s except when officially authorized to do so. Felicity, though strongly endowed with a sense of right and wrong, did not have any particularly reverential attitude towards authority, and her conscience functioned vigorously enough in complete detachment from the adult world of prohibition and exhortation which surrounded her, and which she often failed completely to make sense of. Felicity could not see that there was anything innately wrong in her going into St Bride’s to see her brother - and this being so, the only remaining question was whether she could do so with impunity. She changed her dress, and combed her hair, making herself look as pleasant as possible. Then she ran downstairs and prepared to leave the house.
‘Where are you off to, dear?’ asked Nan from the kitchen.
‘To the library,’ said Felicity at random, and leaving the house she ran along towards the main road.
As she ran she whistled softly to Liffey, who soon came bounding up to run beside her, turning to look at her every now and then, and smiling as dogs do. She never came into the house now, or entered any human habitation. Since the dissolution of her material body Liffey had become rather larger, and now had black ears and a black tail, to signalize her infernal origin. There was as yet no sign of Angus, but Felicity knew, now that Liffey had come, that it would not be long before she saw him, in one or other of his disguises. Felicity passed the main gate of St Bride’s and began walking down the hill. A dried-up grass verge separated her from the dual carriageway. Up and down the hills the cars roared, going from London to the coast or from the coast back to London. They came savagely up like bulls and sped carelessly down like birds, and the swiftness of their passage made the air rock, so that as Felicity walked along her dress flapped in a perpetual breeze. Towards the top of the hill the school was shut in by a high wall, with broken glass on it, above which could be seen the upper windows of the Phys and Gym building. Half-way down the hill, the wall was changed for a high and well-made fence, above which could be seen the red-tiled roof of one of the houses, Prewett’s in fact, where Donald lived, and then lower down the tree tops of the wood. After this, there was to be seen the green-glass roof of the squash court, and to be heard the frantic shouts and splashing from the swimming pool. Here the edge of the school domain began to swing a little farther away from the road, and a grass verge appeared on the inside of the pavement, and widened gradually as the arterial road and the grounds of the school parted company. By now the white walls and slated roof of Mr Everard’s house were plainly visible at the bottom of the hill.
Felicity followed primly along the pavement, as if she had no interest at all in the school. Liffey, who had been amusing herself by passing spectrally through the bodies of several other dogs who were coming up the hill, was running along now by the fence, and in an instant had passed through it. Felicity paused and looked about her. Then she left the pavement and began to follow the fence, which was now turning sharply away from the road. At a certain point it met at right angles with another fence which was that of a private garden which belonged to a house in a side road. At the end of this garden, where the garden fence met the school fence, there was a shrubbery. Between the two fences at that point there was a very narrow place through which a slim body could squeeze itself. Felicity’s body, though still of a material nature, was extremely slim, and in a moment she was kneeling among the bushes at the bottom of the private garden.
Here she could work at ease. The school fence was composed of slats of wood, each of them about two feet broad. One summer holiday she and Donald had been at pains to extract the nails which held one of these slats in place, and secure the slat again by means of nails which projected at an angle from the adjoining wood on both sides. Thus, by working the slat a little, it could be slipped out, leaving a gap through which a body similarly slim could pass. After pausing a moment to make sure that there was no one in the garden, Felicity began to tilt the slat until it cleared the nails on one side. The other side then slipped out easily and Felicity slithered through into the grounds of the school. She then reached back through the hole and drew the wood into place again.
She found herself in a dreary gardener’s wilderness of rubbish heaps and abandoned bonfires behind some trees below Mr Everard’s house. She began to walk along to her right so as to come up into the wood on the opposite side from the squash courts. This part of the grounds was less frequented, and if a neglected shrubbery which was part of Evvy’s garden was taken into account, there was good cover all the way up the hill. Liffey, who had been waiting on the inside of the hole, glided noiselessly ahead of her, charming her footsteps to silence. Felicity wondered if she would see Angus now. She had only met him once within the precincts of the school, on an occasion when she had entered illicitly and he came upon her in the form of a man sitting in a tree, who observed her quietly without saying anything, and waited while she went past. That was eerie. Felicity preferred Angus disguised as a bricklayer or the driver of a police car. Remembering this occasion she felt frightened for a moment. Liffey disappeared, as she always did at such times. By now Felicity was in Evvy’s shrubbery, making her way along, still close to the fence, by crawling under bushes and slinking
behind clumps of greenery. The ground rose steeply here into the wood, and Felicity saw distantly between the trees the sunny open expanse of the playing fields. She moved on in the shadows at the edge of the wood. She would not strike dangerously across it until she was nearly level with Prewett’s.
Suddenly she heard movements in the woodland not far in front of her, and then through the leaves she detected the flash of a white shirt. Felicity fell to the ground, and after lying still for a moment began to crawl forward. Liffey, who had appeared again, went before her, waving her black ears magically to silence any sounds which Felicity might make. This was just as well, as there was a good deal of bramble and crackly fern to be slithered through before Felicity could see what manner of creature she was stalking. At last a lucky vista gave her the view she wanted. Through a tunnel of green she could see, as in a crystal, a man sitting on the ground with his legs drawn up in front of him. He seemed to be alone. A book with wide white pages lay beside him. He had probably been sketching. He had laid the book aside now and was staring straight ahead of him, his arms clasped round his knees. She watched him for a long time, nearly five minutes, during which his attitude did not vary. He was a strange-looking man with big hypnotic eyes and rather long hair. She thought that she had seen him before. After a while she remembered that he was the art master. She would have taken him for sure as a manifestation of Angus, except that Angus never appeared in the guise of people that she knew.