The Magus, A Revised Version (45 page)

Metaphorically, if not literally, I bit my lips.

‘
But surely if we all know now that she can
’
t be Lily … ?
’

‘
That is dropped. I am become an eccentric millionaire. She and her sister are a pair of young actresses I have brought here
–
she will no doubt invent some outlandish reason
–
for what she will perhaps lead you to believe are very wicked purposes. They may well be of some suspect sexual nature. You will demand evidence, proof…
‘
he waved his hand, as if my part in all this was too manifest now to need specifying in detail.

‘
What happens if she tries a repeat of last year
–
tries to make me help her escape?
’

He gave me a briskly warning look.
‘
You must tell me at once. But I do not think it is likely. She learnt her lesson with Mitford. And remember, however much she may appear to trust you, she does not. You will of course maintain that you never told me a word of what happened on your last visit.
’

I smiled.
‘
Of course.
’

‘
I
am sure you see where I am driving. I wish to bring the poor child to a realization of her own true problem by forcing her to recognize the nature of the artificial situation we are creating together here. She will make her first valid step back towards normality when one day she stops and says, This is not the real world. These are not real relationships.
’

‘
What are her chances?
’

‘
Small. But they exist. Especially if you play your part well. She may not trust you. But she is attracted to you.
’

‘
I
’
ll do my best.
’

‘
Thank you. I have great confidence in you, Nicholas.
’
He held out his hand.
‘
I am delighted to have you back.
’

We parted, but I looked back after a few steps to see which way he had taken. It was apparently down towards Moutsa. I did not believe he was going for a constitutional. He walked far too much like a man with someone else to meet, something to arrange. Once again I was shaken. I had come to Bourani determined, after so many useless hours of speculation, to be equally doubting of both him and Julie. But I knew I would have to watch her like a hawk now. The old man had been involved in psychiatry, he could hypnotize-those were proven facts; and nothing she had said about herself had been backed by any hard evidence. There was also the increasingly strong possibility that they were acting in league to gull me; in which case Julie Holmes was no more her real self than Lily Montgomery had been.

No one was visible as I approached the house, as I crossed the gravel. I leapt up the steps and walked quietly round the corner on to the wide tiling under the front of the colonnade.

She was standing in one of the arches facing the sea, half in sun, half in shadow; and
–
it was a shock, though I might have guessed -in contemporary clothes. A navy blue shortsleeved shirt, a pair of white beach trousers with a red belt
–
she was barefooted, her long hair down, a girl who might have adorned the terrace of any smart Mediterranean hotel. One thing was decided at once: she was as desirable in modern dress as in costume, an arrestingly beautiful young woman; in no way less attractive for being less artificial now.

She turned as I appeared, and there was a strange silence, a doubt in both our looks across the space between us. She seemed faintly surprised, as if she had half decided I would not come; was relieved, yet almost at once distancing. There was a tiny air about her of having been caught out of costume, and not being sure of my reaction to this new appearance
–
like a woman showing a new dress for the first time to the man who has to pay for it. She looked down from my eyes. On my side I knew the ghost of Alison, of what had happened on Parnassus; a flicker of adultery, a moment
’
s guilt. We remained like that for several seconds. Then she looked up again to where I stood twenty feet away, with the duffel-bag in my hand. I noticed something else new about
her; the beginning of a tan, a
honeyed skin now. I tried to read her psychologically, psychiatrically; and gave up.

I said,
‘
They suit you. Modern clothes.
’

Still she seemed at a loss, as if the days apart had given her countless second thoughts.

‘
Did you meet him?
’

‘
Meet who?
’
But that was a mistake, there was something impatient in her stare.
‘
The old man? Yes. He was just going for a walk.
’

Her suspicion was not assuaged, and she stared at me a moment more. Then she said, with a perceptible indifference,
‘
Do you want some tea?
’

‘
That
’
d be nice.
’

She moved in barefooted silence across the tiles to the table. I saw a pair of red espadrilles by the music-room doors. I watched her strike a inatch and light the spirit-lamp, then set the kettle on its stand. She avoided my eyes, fiddling with the muslin covers over the food; the scar on her wrist. There was almost a sullenness about her. I dropped my bag by the wall and went closer.

‘
What
’
s wrong?
’

‘
Nothing.
’

‘
I
haven
’
t betrayed you in any way. Whatever he may have said.
’
She gave me the briefest glance, but then stared down at the table again. I tried small talk.
‘
Where
’
ve you been?
’

‘
On the yacht.
’

‘
Where?
’

‘
Cruising. In the Cyclades.
’

‘
I
’
ve missed you.
’

She said nothing. She would not look at me. I had anticipated various kinds of reception, but not this apparent wishing that I hadn
’
t come at all. There stole through me a little chill of fear
–
something fraught about her, lost; and with a girl as pretty as this, only the reason I did not want to believe could account for the apparent lack of other men in her life.

‘
I
gather Lily
’
s dead.
’

She spoke to the table.
‘
You don
’
t seem very surprised.
’

‘
Nothing surprises me here. Any more.
’
She drew a breath; I had
made another wrong answer.
‘
So what are you
off
icially playing now?
’

She sat down. The kettle must
have been boiled once already,
because it began to hiss. Suddenly she looked up at me. The question was transparently accusing.

‘
Did you enjoy Athens?
’

‘
No. And I didn
’
t meet my friend.
’

‘
Maurice told us you had.
’

I silently cursed him, and had a touch of liar
’
s nightmare.
‘
That
’
s odd. He didn
’
t know five minutes ago. Since he asked me himself if I
’
d met her.
’

She looked down.
‘
Why didn
’
t you?
’

‘
For the reasons I told you. It
’
s all over.
’

She tipped a little hot water into the tea-pot, then crossed the colonnade to empty it over the edge. As she came back, I said,
‘
And because I knew I was going to see you again.
’

She sat, and spooned some tea from a caddy into the pot.
‘
Start eating. If you
’
re hungry.
’

‘
I
’
m much more hungry to know why we
’
re behaving like total strangers.
’

‘
Because that
’
s precisely what we are.
’

‘
Why won
’
t you answer my question about your new role?
’

‘
Because you already know the answer.
’

Her grey-hyacinth eyes were on me, and they were very direct. The kettle boiled, and she lifted it and filled the pot. As she put it back on its stand and turned out the flame beneath, she said,
‘
I wouldn
’
t really blame you for thinking I was mad. I begin to wonder increasingly myself if I
’
m not.
’
Her voice grew drier still.
‘
Sorry if I
’
ve spoilt a prepared scene.
’
Then she smiled up without humour.
‘
Do you want this foul goat
’
s milk or lemon?
’

‘
Lemon.
’

I felt a great relief then. She had just done the one thing she would never do, if the old man had been telling me the truth
–
unless she was so insanely cunning, or cunningly insane, that she was beating him at his own game. I remembered Occam
’
s razor: always believe the simplest of several explanations. But I played safe.

‘
Why should I think you
’
re mad?
’

‘
Why should I think you
’
re not what you say you are?
’

‘
Why indeed?
’

‘
Because the question you
’
ve just asked proves you aren
’
t.
’
She pushed a cup towards me.
‘
Your tea.
’

I stared at it, then up at her.
‘
Okay. I don
’
t believe you
’
re a famous case of schizophrenia.
’

She eyed me, still unwon.
‘
Will you not partake of a sandwich … Mr Urfe?
’

I did not smile, and I left a silence.

‘
Julie, this is absurd. We
’
re falling into every trap he sets. I thought we agreed last time. We don
’
t have to lie to each other out of his hearing.
’

Without warning she stood and walked slowly to the far end of the colonnade, where steps led down to the vegetable terrace to the west. She leant against the wall of the house, her back to me, staring out towards the distant mountains of the Peloponnesus. After a moment I stood and went behind her. She did not turn to look at me.

‘
I
’
m not blaming you. If he
’
s told you as many lies about me as he has me about you …
‘
I reached and touched her shoulder.
‘
Come on. We did establish some sort of trust last time.
’
There was no response to my hand, and I let it drop.

‘
I suppose you want to kiss me again.
’

The naive abruptness of that took me by surprise.

‘
Is that a crime?
’

Suddenly she folded her arms, turned her back to the wall, faced me with an intense look.