The Magus, A Revised Version (111 page)

‘
Oh God now, I meant to ask you about that. Do you remember, just as we said goodbye

‘
Yes.
’
He gave me a tightly cautious look.
‘
Never went to a bay called Moutsa? Rather jolly, over on the south side?
’

‘
Of course. I know it.
’

‘
Ever notice the villa on the cape to the east?
’

‘
Yes. It was always shut up. I was told.
’

‘
Ah. Interesting. Very interesting.
’
He looked reminiscently across the lounge; left me in suspense. I watched him lift, an infuriating upward arc, his cigarette to his lips; the gentleman connoisseur of fine Virginia; then fume smoke through his nostrils.
‘
Well that was it, old boy. Nothing really.
’

‘
But why beware?
’

‘
Oh it
’
s nothing. Nothing at all.
’

‘
Then you can tell me.
’

‘
I did, actually.
’

‘
You did!
’

‘
Row with collaborationist. Remember?
’

‘
Yes.
’

‘
Same man who has the villa.
’

‘
Oh but …
‘
I flicked my fingers …
‘
wait a moment. What was his name?
’

‘
Conchis.
’
He had an amused smile on his face, as if he knew what I was going to say. He touched his moustache; always preening his moustache.

‘
But I thought he did something rather fine during the resistance.
’

‘
Not on your nelly. Actually he did a deal with the Germans. Personally organized the shooting of eighty villagers. Then got his kraut chums to line him up with them. See. As if he was all brave and innocent.
’

‘
But wasn
’
t he badly wounded, or something?
’

He blew out smoke, despising my innocence.
‘
You don
’
t survive a German execution, old boy. No, the bugger pulled a very fast one. Acted like a traitor and got treated like a bloody hero. Even forged a phoney German report on the incident. One of the neatest little cover-up jobs of the war.
’

I looked sharply at him. A dreadful new suspicion crossed my mind. New corridors in the labyrinth.

‘
But hasn
’
t anyone … ?
’

Mitford made the Greek corruption gesture; thumb and forefinger.

I said,
‘
You still haven
’
t explained the waiting-room business.
’

‘
His name for the villa. Waiting for death or something. Had it nailed up on a tree in Frog.
’
His finger traced a line.
‘
Salle d
’
attente.
’

‘
What happened between you?
’

‘
Nothing, old boy. Absolutely nothing.
’

‘
Come on.
’
I smiled ingenuously.
‘
Now I know the place.
’

I remembered as a very small boy lying on the bough of a willow over a Hampshire stream; I was watching my father casting for
a trout. It was his one delicacy, casting a dry fly, posing it on the water
as soft as thistledown. I could see the t
rout he was trying to coax into
a rise. And I remembered that moment when the fish floated slowly up and hovered beneath the fly, a moment endlessly prolonged in a heart-stopping excitement; then the sudden swift kick of the tail and the lightning switch of my father
’
s strike; the ratcheting of the reel.

‘
It
’
s nothing, old boy. Really.
’

‘
Of for God
’
s sake. What
’
s it matter?
’

‘
All damned absurd.
’
The fish took the fly.
‘
Actually I was out walking one day. May or June, can
’
t remember. Bit browned
off
at the school. Went over to Moutsa to swim and well, I came down, you know the place, through the trees and what did I see—not just a couple of girls. But a couple of girls in next to nothing. Quick recce. Niftiest beeline I knew how towards them, said something in Greek, and damn me they answered in English. They
were
English. Gorgeous creatures. Twins.
’

‘
Good Lord. Let me get you another gin.
’

I stood at the bar waiting for the drinks and watched myself in the mirror; gave myself the smallest wink.

‘
Sygeia.
Well, you can imagine, I moved in
poly
fast. Consolidated position. Found out who they were. Old boy
’
s godchildren up at the villa. Bang out of the top drawer, finished in Switzerland, All that. Said they were there for the summer and that the old boy would very much like to meet me, why didn
’
t I come up for tea. Nuff said.
Off
we trotted. Meet the old boy. Tea.
’

He had the same old habit of stretching his neck up, as if his collar was too tight; to make himself look a man of the world.

‘
This what
’
s-his-name spoke English?
’

‘
Perfect. Moved round Europe all his life, best society and all that. Well, actually I found one of the twins a shade
off
. Not my type. Rather marked the other for my area of ops. Okay, the old man and the not-on twin faded away after tea and this girl, June, that was her name, took me round the property.
’

‘
Nice work.
’

‘
Didn
’
t actually get round to unarmed combat at that point, but I sort of felt she was ready and willing. You know how it was on the island. Full magazine on and nothing to shoot at.
’

‘
Rather.
’

He flexed his arm, caressed the back of his hair.
‘
Right. I trotted off
back to the school. Tender farewell. Invitation to dinner the next weekend. Week passes, I present myself over there in my number ones. Other necessary equipment. Drinks, girls looking smashing. But then.
’
He gave me a taut, suspenseful look.
‘
Well, as a matter of fact the other girl, not June, got stinkers.
’

‘
Christ.
’

‘
I
’
d got her number the week before. One of these bloody intellectual girls. Pretend to be as tough as nuts, but a couple of gins put
‘
em out stone cold. Well, it got pretty bloody dicey during dinner. Damned embarrassing. This Julie girl took against me. Didn
’
t take much notice at first. I thought, well, the girl
’
s a bit squiffy. Time of the month or something. But … actually she began, well she began to make fun of me in a damn silly sort of way.
’

‘
How?
’

‘
Oh … you know, copied my voice. Way I say things. I suppose she was quite good at it. Damned
off
ensive all the same.
’

‘
But what was she saying?
’

‘
Oh a load of stupid cock about pacifism and the bomb. You know the type. And I just wasn
’
t having any.
’

‘
Didn
’
t the others
join in?
’

‘
Hardly said a word. Too damn embarrassed. Well anyway suddenly wham this Julie girl shouted a whole string of really bloody nasty insults. Lost her temper completely. And then all hell broke loose. This other June girl got up and went for her. The old man flapped his hands like a wounded crow. Then the Julie one rushed away. Then her sister. I was left sitting there with the old man. He started talking about them being orphans. Load of guff. Sort of apology.
’

‘
What were these insults she shouted?
’

‘
Old boy, I can
’
t remember now. The girl was pissed.
’
He dredged his memory.
‘
Called me a Nazi, actually.
’

‘
A Nazi!
’

‘
One of the things we were rowing about was Mosley.
’

‘
You
’
re not a—
’

‘
Of course not, old boy. Good God.
’
He laughed, then flicked a look at me.
‘
But let
’
s face it, not all Mosley says is rot. If you ask me this country
has
got bloody sloppy.
’
He stretched his neck.
‘
Bit more discipline. National pride …
‘

‘
Maybe, but Mosley?
’

‘
Old man, don
’
t get me wrong. Who the hell do you think I was fighting against in the war? It
’
s just that… well, take your Spain. Look what Franco
’
s done for Spain.
’

‘
I thought all he
’
d done was build a lot of dungeons in Barcelona.
’

‘
Ever been to Spain, old man?
’

‘
No, I haven
’
t, as a matter of fact.
’

‘
Well, till you have I
’
d keep quiet about what Franco has and hasn
’
t done.
’

1 silently counted five.

‘
Sorry. Forget it. Do go on.
’

‘
As it happens I
’
ve read some of Mosley
’
s stuff, and a lot of it makes sense.
’
He articulated the words with curt clarity.
‘
Quite a lot ofsense.
’

I m sure.

He metaphorically preened his ruffled feathers and went on.

‘
My twin came back, the old bloke left us for a few minutes and actually she was, seemed, damn sweet. Course I played up the hurt line and sort of indicated that a little stroll in the moonlight later would help me get back to normal. And then, she said wham—Stroll? How about a swim? And believe me, old boy, you only had to hear her say it to see swimming might lead to very interesting other activities. Midnight on the dot, at the gate. Okay, we go to bed at eleven, I sit round waiting for zero-hour. Slip out of the house. No problems. Get to the gate. Five minutes later, along she comes. And old man, I can tell you, I
’
ve been in some clinches in my time, but that girl lit up like a bomb. Began to think Operation Midnight Swim was going to be cancelled for a more important exercise. But she said she wanted to cool
off
for a while.
’

‘
I
’
m glad you didn
’
t tell me all this before I went. The disappointment would have killed me.
’

He smiled condescendingly.
‘
We got down to the beach. She says, I haven
’
t got a costume, do you mind going in first. I think, well maybe she
’
s shy, m
aybe she wants to do the necessary. Fine. Operation undress. She retires into the trees. Charley does exactly what he
’
s told, swims out fifty yards, treads water, waits two minutes, three, four, actually in the end about ten, begins to feel damn cold. Still no girl.
’