The Magus, A Revised Version (54 page)

June stood as I got near and came to meet me. She had her hair down, like her sister; golden skin, an even deeper tan than I had realized the previous night; and there was a facial difference at close range, a greater openness, even a touch of impudent tomboyishness. Behind her Julie watched us meet. She was noticeably unsmiling and holding herself aloof. June grinned.

‘
I told her you said you didn
’
t care which of us you met this morning.
’

‘
That was kind of you.
’

She took my hand and led me to the foot of the hummock.

‘
Here
’
s your knight in shining armour.
’

Julie looked coolly down at me.
‘
Hallo.
’

Her sister said,
‘
She knows all.
’

Julie slid a look at her.
‘
I also know whose fault it was.
’

But then she stood and came down beside us. The reproof in her eyes gave way to concern.

‘
Did you get back all right?
’

I told them what had happened, the spitting. The first moments of sisterly banter rapidly disappeared. I had the benefit of two pairs of disturbed blue-grey eyes. Then they looked at each other, as if this confirmed something they had been discussing. Julie spoke first.

‘
Have you seen Maurice this morning?
’

‘
Not a sign.
’

There was another exchanged glance.

June said,
‘
Nor have we.
’

‘
The whole place seems deserted. I
’
ve been looking everywhere for you.
’

June glanced behind me, into the trees.
‘
It may seem. But I bet it isn t.

‘
Who is that damned black man?
’

‘
Maurice calls him his valet. When you
’
re not here he even serves at table. He
’
s supposed to look after us when we
’
re in hiding. Actually he gives us both the creeps.
’

‘
Is he really a mute?
’

‘
You may well ask. We suspect not. He just sits and stares. As if he could say worlds.
’

‘
He
’
snever … ?
’

Julie shook her head.
‘
He hardly even seems aware we
’
re female.
’

‘
He must be blind as well.
’

June made a little grimace.
‘
It would be insulting if it wasn
’
t such a relief.
’

‘
The old man must know what happened last night.
’

‘
That
’
s what we
’
re trying to work out.
’

June added,
‘
The mystery of the dog that
didn
’
t
bark in the night.
’

I looked at her.
‘
I thought you and I weren
’
t supposed to meet
off
icially.
’

‘
We were always going to, today. I was supposed to back Maurice
’
s story.
’

Julie added, After I
’
d put on another of my celebrated madwoman acts.
’

‘
But he must …
‘

‘
That
’
s what puzzles us. The trouble is he hasn
’
t told us the next chapter. What we
’
re supposed to be when you
’
ve seen through the schizophrenia.
’

June said,
‘
So we
’
ve decided to be ourselves. And see what happens.
’

‘
You must tell me all you know now.
’

Julie gave her sister a dry look. June gave a little start of mock surprise.

Tm not
de trop
by any chance?
’

‘
You can go and improve your nauseating tan. We
’
ll perhaps tolerate you at lunch.
’

June made a little curtsey, then went and picked up the basket; but as she came back, she raised a warning finger.
‘
I shall want to hear all that concerns me.
’

I smiled, then belatedly realized, as June walked away, that I was getting a cool and wide-eyed look from Julie.

‘
It was so dark. The same clothes, I …
‘

Tm very angry with her. Things are quite complicated enough without that.
’

‘
She
’
s very different from you.
’

‘
We
’
ve rather cultivated that.
’
But then her voice was gentler, more honest.
‘
We
’
re very close, really.
’

I took her hand.
‘
I prefer you.
’

But she wouldn
’
t let me pull her close, though the hand was not withdrawn.
‘
I
’
ve found a place along the cliff. Where at least we can talk without being seen.
’

We went through the trees to the east.

‘
You
’
re not seriously angry?
’

‘
Did you enjoy kissing her?
’

‘
Only because I thought it was you.
’

‘
How long did it last?
’

‘
A few seconds.
’

She jerked on my hand.
‘
Liar.
’

But there was a hidden smile on her face. She led the way round an outcrop of rock; a solitary pine, then the steep slope down to the cliff-edge. The outcrop formed a natural wall shielding us from eyes inland, behind us. Another basket stood on a dark green rug spread in the thin shade of the wind-bent t
ree. I glanced round, then took
Julie in my arms. This time she let me kiss her, but only briefly before she turned her head away.

‘
I so wanted to come last night.
’

‘
It was awful.
’

‘
I had to let her meet you.
’
There was a little outbreath.
‘
She complains I have all the excitement, apart from anything else.
’

‘
It doesn
’
t matter. Now we
’
ve got all day.
’

She kissed my shoulder through my damp shirt.
‘
We must talk.
’

She slipped out of her flat-heeled shoes, then sat down on the rug with her legs curled beside her. The pale-blue stockings ended just below her bare knees. The dress was really white, but thick-sewn with a close pattern of tiny roses. It was cut deep round the neck, to where the breasts began to swell apart. The clothes gave her a kind of sensual innocence, a schoolgirlishness. The sun-wind teased the ends of her hair against her back, as when she had been
‘
Lily
’
on the beach
–
but all that side of her had drained away, like water between stones. I sat beside her, and she turned away and reached for the basket. The fabric tightened over the breasts, the small waist. She faced back and our eyes met; those fine grey-hyacinth eyes, tilted corners, lingering a little in mine.

‘
Go on. Ask me anything.
’

‘
What did you read at Cambridge?
’

‘
Classics.
’
She saw my surprise.
‘
My father
’
s subject. He was like you. A schoolmaster.
’

‘
Was?
’

‘
He died in the war. In India.
’

‘
And June as well?
’

She smiled.
‘
I was the sacrificial lamb. She was allowed to do what she liked. Modern languages.
’

‘
When did you come down?
’

‘
Last year.
’
She opened her mouth, then changed her mind, and set the basket between us.
‘
I
’
ve brought all I could. I
’
m so scared they
’
ll see what I
’
m doing.
’
I looked round, but the natural wall protected us completely. Only someone on top of it could have observed us. She produced a book. It was small, half bound in black leather, with green marbled-paper sides; rubbed and worn. I looked at the title-page:
Quintus Horatius Flaccus, Parisiis.

‘
It
’
s a Didot A
î
n
é
.
’

‘
Who
’
s he?
’
I saw the date 1800.

‘
A famous French printer.
’

She turned me back to the flyleaf. On it, in very neat writing,
was an inscription:
From the
‘
idiots
’
of IVB
to their lovely teacher, Miss
Julia Holmes.
Underneath were fifteen or so signatures:
Penny
O
’
Brien, Susan Smith, Susan Mowbray, Jane Willings, Lea Gluckstein,
Jean Ann M
off
at…

‘
Where was this?
’

‘
Please look at these first.
’

Six or seven envelopes. Three were addressed to
‘
Miss Julia and Miss June Holmes, c/o Maurice Conchis, Esquire, Bourani, Phraxos, Greece
’
. They had English stamps and recent postmarks, all from Dorset.

‘
Read one.
’

I took out a letter from the top envelope. It was on headed paper,
Ansty Cottage, Cerne Abbas, Dorset.
It began in a rapid scrawl:

Darlings, I
’
ve been frantically busy with all the doodah for the Show, on top of that Mr Arnold
’
s been in and he wants to do the painting as soon as possible. Also guess who
–
Roger rang up, he
’
s at Bovington now, and asked himself over for the weekend. He was so disappointed you were both abroad -hadn
’
t heard. I think he
’
s much nicer
–
not nearly so pompous. And a captain!! I didn
’
t know what on earth to do with him so I asked the Drayton girl and her brother round for supper and I think it went
off
rather well. Billy is getting so fat, old Tom says it
’
s all the grass, so I asked the D. girl if she
’
d like to give him a ride or two, I knew you wouldn
’
t mind …