The Magus, A Revised Version (30 page)

I was given no time to doze
off
. I had not been there five minutes before I heard a rustle and, simultaneously, smelt the sandalwood perfume. I pretended to be asleep. The rustle came closer. I heard the tiny crepitation of pine-needles. Her feet were just behind my head. There was a louder rustle; she had sat down, and very close behind me. I thought she would drop a cone, tickle my nose. But in a very low voice she began to recite Shakespeare.

‘
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices

That, if I then had wak
’
d after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak
’
d,

I cried to dream again.
’

All the time I was silent, and kept my eyes closed. She teased the words, giving them double meanings. Her dry-sweet voice, the wind in the pines above. She ended, but I kept my eyes closed.

I murmured,
‘
Go on.
’

‘
A spirit of his comes to torment you.
’

I opened my eyes. A fiendish green-and-black face, with protuberant fire-red eyes, glared down at me. I twisted up. She was holding a Chinese carnival mask on a stick, in her left hand. I saw the scar. She had changed into a long-sleeved white blouse and a long grey skirt and her hair was tied back by a black velvet bow. I pushed the mask aside.

‘
You make a rotten Caliban.
’

‘
Then perhaps you shall take the part.
’

‘
I was rather hoping for Ferdinand.
’

She half-raised the mask again and quizzed me over the top of it with a decided dryness. We were evidently still playing games, but in a different, rather franker key.

‘
Are you sure you have the skill for it?
’

‘
What I lack in skill I
’
ll try to make up for in feeling.
’

A tiny mocking glint stayed in her eyes.
‘
Forbidden.
’

‘
By
Prospero?
’

‘
Perhaps.
’

‘
That
’
s how it began in Shakespeare. By being forbidden.
’
She looked down.
‘
Although of course his Miranda was a lot more innocent.
’

‘
And his Ferdinand.
’

‘
Except I tell you the truth. And you tell me nothing but lies.
’

Her eyes were still downcast, but she bit her lips.
‘
I have told you some truths.
’

‘
Such as that black dog you so kindly warned me about?
’
I added quickly,
‘
And for God
’
s sake don
’
t ask me which black dog.
’

She put her hands round her enskirted knees and leant back and stared into the trees behind me. She was wearing absurd black lace-up boots. The echo now was of some antiquated village schoolroom, or perhaps of Mrs Pankhurst, a first timid attempt at female emancipation. She left a long pause.

‘
Which black dog?
’

‘
The one your twin sister was out with this morning.
’

‘
I have no sister.
’

‘
Balls.
’
I reclined back on an elbow, smiling at her.
‘
Where did you hide?
’

‘
I went home.
’

It was no good; she wouldn
’
t lay down the other mask. I examined her guarded face and then reached for my cigarettes. She watched me strike the match and inhale a couple of times, then unexpectedly reached out her hand. I passed her the cigarette. She pecked out her lips at it in the characteristic way of first smokers; took a little puff, then a bigger one, which made her cough. She buried her head in her knees, holding the cigarette out for me to take back; coughed again. I looked at the nape of her neck, her slim shoulders; and remembered that naked nymph of the night before, who had also been slim, small-breasted, the same height.

I said,
‘
Where did you train?
’

‘
Train?
’

‘
Which drama school? RADA?
’
That received no answer. I tried another line of attack.
‘
You
’
re trying
–
very successfully
–
to captivate me. Why?
’

She made no attempt this time to be
off
ended. One realized progress more by omissions than anything else; by pretences dropped. She raised her head, and sat back propped on one arm, slightly turned away. Then she picked up the mask and held it like a yashmak again.

‘
I am Astarte, mother of mystery.
’

The piquant grey-violet eyes dilated, and I smiled, but thinly. I wanted her to know that she was getting very near the bottom of the locker in her improvisings.

‘
Sorry, I
’
m an atheist.
’

She put down the mask.

‘
Then I shall have to teach you faith.
’

‘
In mystification?
’

‘
Among other things.
’

I heard the sound of a boat-engine out at sea. She must have heard it as well, but her eyes revealed nothing.

‘
I wish I could meet you away from here.
’

She looked up from the ground and through the trees to the south. There was suddenly a much more contemporary tone in her voice.

‘
Next weekend perhaps?
’

I guessed at once that she had been told about Alison; but two could play at false ignorance.

‘
Why not?
’

‘
Maurice would never allow it.
’

‘
You
’
re past the age of consent.
’

‘
I understood you were to be in Athens.
’

I left a pause.
‘
I don
’
t find one aspect of your antics here quite so amusing as the others.
’

Now she too lay on an elbow, with her back to me. When at last she spoke it was in a lower voice.

‘
Your sentiments are not altogether unshared.
’

I felt a jab of excitement
–
this really was progress. I sat up, so that I could at least observe the side of her face. It was closed, reluctant, but it seemed to be acting no longer.

‘
Then you admit it is a game?
’

‘
Part of it.
’

‘
If you really feel the same, the remedy
’
s simple
–
tell me what
’
s going on. Why my private life has to be spied on like this.
’

She shook her head.
‘
Not spied on. It was mentioned. That was all
’

‘
I
’
m not going to Athens. It
’
s all over between us.
’
She said nothing.
‘
It
’
s partly why I came here. To Greece. To get away from what was becoming messy.
’
I said,
‘
She
’
s Australian. An air hostess.
’

‘
And you no longer … ?
’

‘
No longer what?
’

‘
Love her?
’

‘
It wasn
’
t that kind of relationship.
’
Again she said nothing. She had picked up a cone, and was looking down at it, fiddling with it, as if she found all this embarrassing. But there seemed to be something truly shy about her now, not just to do with her role; and suspicious, as if she did not know whether to believe me. I said,
‘
I don
’
t know what the old man
’
s told you.
’

‘
Only that she wishes to meet you again.
’

‘
We
’
re just friends now. We both knew it couldn
’
t last. We write from time to time.
’
I added,
‘
You know what Australians are like.
’
She shook her head.
‘
They
’
re terribly half-baked culturally. They don
’
t really know who they are, where they belong. Part of her was very … gauche. Anti-British. Another side … I suppose I felt sorry for her, basically.
’

‘
You … lived together as man and wife?
’

‘
If you must put it in that absurd way. For a few weeks.
’
She nodded gravely, as if in gratitude for this intimate information.
‘
And I
’
d very much like to know why you
’
re so interested.
’

All she did was to move her head sideways, in the way people do when they acknowledge that they can
’
t really answer your question; but such simplicity seemed a more natural response than words. She did not know why she was interested. So I went on.

‘
I haven
’
t been very happy on Phraxos. Not until I came here, as a matter of fact. I
’
ve been, well, pretty lonely. I know I don
’
t love … this other girl. It
’
s just that she
’
s been the only person. That
’
s all.
’

‘
Perhaps to her
you
seem the only person.
’

I gave a little sniff of amusement.
‘
There are dozens of other men in her life. Honestly. At least three since I left England.
’
A runner ant zigzagged neurotically up the white back of her blouse and I reached and flicked it
off
. She must have felt me do it, but she did not turn.
‘
And I wish you
’
d stop play-acting. There must have been affaires like that in your own real life.
’

‘
No.
’
Once more she shook her head.

‘
But you admit you have a real life. Pretending to be shocked is absurd.
’

‘
I did not mean to pry.
’

‘
You also know I
’
ve seen through your role. This is getting moronic
’

She was silent a moment, then she
sat and faced me. She gave two
glances to either side, then one straight into my eyes; it was searching and uncertain, but at least it partly conceded what I had just said.
Meanwhile the invisible boat had been coming closer. It was definitely
heading for the cove.

I said,
‘
We
’
re being watched?
’

She made the ghost of a shrug.
‘
Everything is watched here.
’

I looked round, but I could see nothing. I stared at her again.
‘
Maybe. But I
’
m not going to believe that everything is heard.
’

She put her elbows on her knees, and cupped her chin in her hands, stared beyond me.

‘
It is like hide-and-seek, Nicholas. One has to be sure the seeker wants to play. One also has to stay in hiding. Or there is no game.
’

‘
There
’
s also no game when you won
’
t concede you
’
ve been found. When you have.
’
I said,
‘
You are not Lily Montgomery. If she ever existed in the first place.
’

She gave me a little look.
‘
She did exist.
’

‘
But even the old man admits it wasn
’
t you. And how are you so sure?
’

‘
Because I exist myself
.’

‘
You
’
re her daughter now?
’