The Magus, A Revised Version (83 page)

Perhaps I was over-bitter about the school during those days. The examinations had taken place; and it promised in the prospectus that
‘
each student is examined personally in written English by the native English professor
’
. This meant that I had two hundred papers or so to correct. In one way I didn
’
t mind. It kept other anxieties and suspenses at bay.

I realized a subtle but profound shift was taking place in me. I knew I could no longer trust the girls
–
the screw had been turned once too often for that. Julie
’
s harking-back, just before she was
‘
kidnapped
’
, to my supposed attraction
for June was in retrospect the
worst false note of all. If I hadn
’
t been so besotted by her, I should have picked it up at the time. It seemed clear that they were still doing what Conchis wanted; which must mean that they knew, had known from the beginning, what lay behind it all. But if that was one reasonable assumption, I had to add another: that Julie did feel a very real attraction for me. Put the two together, and I had to conclude that she was in some way playing on both sides … deceiving me for the old man
’
s sake, but also deceiving him for mine. That in turn meant she must know I was not to be denied her in the end, that the teasing would one day stop. I regretted not having told her about Alison when I had had the chance, since that must, if her feeling for me had any decency at all, have brought the absurd hide-and-seek to an abrupt close. But at least my silence there killed one past fear. She could not have known the truth
and
continued with the charade.

Wednesday had been a sultry day with a veiled sun, an end-of-the-world day, very un-Aegean. That night I sat down for a really long session of correcting. Thursday was the deadline for handing in papers to the assistant headmaster. The air was very heavy, and about half past ten I heard distant rumbles. Rain was mercifully coming. An hour later, when I had worked about one-third of the way through the pile of foolscap, there was a knock on the door. I shouted. I thought it was one of the other masters or perhaps one of the sixth-form leavers who had come cadging advance results.

But it was Barba Vassili, from the gate. He was smiling under his white walrus moustache; and his first words made me jump from my desk.

‘
Sygnonri, kyrie, ma
m
ia thespoinis
…
’

⁵⁸

‘
Excuse me, sir, but a young lady

‘
Where?
’

He gestured back towards the gate. I was tearing on a coat.
‘
A very beautiful young lady. A foreigner, she
–’

But I was already past him and running down the corridor. I called back to his grinning face
–
‘
To phos
!
’
–
to make him turn out the light, then I leapt down the stairs, raced out of the building and along the path towards the gate. There was a bare bulb above Barba Vassili
’
s window; a pool of white light. I expected to see her standing in it, but there was no one. The gate was locked at that time of night, since we masters all had pass-keys. I felt in my pockets and remembered that I had left mine in the old jacket I wore in class. I looked through the bars. There was no one in the road, no one on the thistly wasteland that ran down to the sea fifty yards away, no one by the water. I called in a low voice.

But no quick shape appeared from behind the walls. I turned exasperatedly. Barba Vassili was hobbling slowly down through the trees from the masters
’
block.

‘
Isn
’
t she there?
’

He seemed to take ages to unlock the side-gate used in the evening. We went out into the road. The old man pointed away from the village.

‘
That way?
’

‘
I think.
’

I began to smell more games. There was something in the old man
’
s smile; the thundery air, the deserted road
–
and yet I didn
’
t care what happened, as long as something happened.

‘
May I have your key, Barba?
’

But he wouldn
’
t let me have the one in his hand; had to return inside Iris lodge and rummage to find another. He seemed to be delaying me, and when he at last turned round with a spare key, I snatched it out of his hand.

I walked quickly down the roa
d away from the village. To the
east lightning shuddered. After seventy or eighty yards the school wall turned inland at right angles. I thought Julie might be waiting round the corner of it. She wasn
’
t. The road did not go much more than a quarter of a mile farther; beyond the wall it looped a little away from the sea to cross a dried-out torrent. There was a small bridge and a hundred yards to the left and inland of that, another of the countless island chapels, linked to the road by an avenue of tall cypresses. The moon was completely obscured by a dense veil of high cloud, but there was a grey Palmeresque light over the landscape. I came to the bridge and hesitated, torn between following the road and turning back towards the village, the much more plausible way for her to have gone. Then I heard her call my name.

The voice came from the avenue of cypresses. I walked quickly up between them. Halfway to the chapel there was a movement to my left. She was standing ten feet away, hidden from the road, between two of the largest trees. A dark summer mackintosh, a headscarf, trousers, a seemingly black shirt; the paler oval of her face. In spite of what I first said, I knew at once: there was something about the way she waited, with her hands in her mackintosh pockets.

‘
Julie?
’

‘
It
’
s me. June. Thank God you
’
ve come.
’

I went close to her.
‘
Where
’
sJulie?
’

She looked at me a long moment, then let her head sink.

‘
I thought you
’
d realized.
’

‘
Realized what?
’

‘
What
’
s going on.
’
She met my eyes.
‘
Between her and Maurice.
’

I left a silence, and she looked down again.

‘
What the hell do you all take me for?
’
She said nothing.
‘
You seem to have forgotten I
’
ve been through the rich man
’
s mistress farce already.
’

She shook her head.
‘
I didn
’
t mean that. Just that she
’
ll … do whatever he asks. In other ways.
’

Her head remained down, and I had my choice then. I should have turned straight on my heel and walked back to the school, my room, my desk, my examination-marking; because I knew I had returned to the
beginning
as regards the masque. In terms of hard fact I knew no more of this girl than when I had first set eyes on her naked figure running in the night below the terr
ace at Bourani. Yet I also knew
that I could no more turn on my heel than a dropped stone can fly back into the hand.

‘
And what exactly are
you
doing here?
’

‘
I don
’
t think it
’
s fair any more.
’

‘
What isn
’
t fair?
’

She glanced up at me.
‘
It was all planned. Her being snatched away from you like that. She knew all along it would happen.
’

‘
And this isn
’
t planned?
’

She stared resignedly beyond me, into the night.

‘
I don
’
t blame you for supposing it is.
’

‘
You haven
’
t told me where Julie is.
’

‘
In Athens. With Maurice.
’

‘
From where you
’
ve just come?
’
She nodded.
‘
Why this extraordinary hour?
’

‘
I didn
’
t get here till dusk.
’

I searched her expression. It contrived, with her stance, an air of hurt i
nn
ocence, of reproach at my suspicion. She was transparently playing a part.

‘
Why didn
’
t you wait at the gate?
’

‘
I panicked. He was gone such a long time.
’

Lightning flickered again. There was a waft of air, the smell of coming rain, and an almost continuous and increasingly ominous rumble from the east.

‘
What
’
s there to panic about?
’

‘
I
’
ve run away, Nicholas. They must have guessed where.
’

‘
Why didn
’
t you go to the police
–
the embassy?
’

‘
It
’
s not a criminal
off
ence. Making someone fall in love with you under false pretences. And she is my sister.
’
She added,
‘
It
’
s not what Maurice is doing. But what Julie is.
’

There were
telltale
little pauses between the sentences, as if she had to have each one swallowed by me before she could go on. I did not leave her with my eyes. In the darkness she looked hallucinatorily like her sister.

She said,
‘
I
’
ve only come to warn you. That
’
s all.
’

‘
And console me?
’

She was saved from answering by the sound of a low voice from the road. We both looked round the cypress. Three dim shapes, men, were pacing slowly down it towards the bridge, talking in Greek.

People, villagers, masters, often strolled to the end of the road and back in the evening, for the coolness. June gave me what was meant to be a frightened look. That also did not convince me.

‘
You came on the noon boat?
’

But she avoided that trap.
‘
I found a way by land. By Kranidi.
’

Occasionally thalassophobic parents used that route
–
it meant changing at Corinth, and taking a taxi from Kranidi and then hiring a boat to bring one across from the mainland; a full day
’
s journey; and difficult if you didn
’
t speak reasonable Greek.

‘
Why?
’

‘
Because Maurice has spies everywhere here. In the village.
’

‘
I
’
ll believe that part of it.
’

I looked down again towards the road. The three men were strolling calmly on past the avenue of trees, their backs to us; the the greyish strip of road, the black scrub beyond, the dark sea. They were plainly exactly what they seemed.

I said,
‘
Look, I
’
m getting bloody tired of this. Games, okay. But not with people
’
s emotions.
’

‘
Perhaps I feel exactly the same.
’

‘
Once too often. Sorry. It won
’
t wash.
’

She said in a low voice,
‘
She really has fooled you, hasn
’
t she?
’