Iris Murdoch - The Bell

“I liked your service,” said Dora, for something to say. She wanted to get into the sun, and began to walk slowly down the steps. Catherine walked with her.

“Yes,” said Catherine. “It’s quite simple, but it suits us. It’s difficult, you know, for a lay community where nothing’s ordained. It all has to be invented as you go along.”

They began to walk across the grass, taking the path towards the causeway.

“You’ve tried different things?” said Dora vaguely.

“Oh yes,” said Catherine. “At first we had it that everyone said the whole Office privately every day. But it was too much of a strain/

Dora, who had very little conception of what the Office was, heartily agreed. It sounded awful.

They walked out a little on to the causeway. The sun cast their shadows onto the water. The bricks, overgrown with moss and small plants, were warm underfoot; Dora could feel the warmth through her light shoes. The strong sense she now had of her companion’s shyness and nervousness set her at ease. She felt less afraid of Catherine, glad to be with her.

“It’s so hot,” she said, “it makes one want to swim. I can’t swim – I wish I could. I expect you can. Everyone can except me.”

“I never go into the water,” said Catherine. “I can swim, but not at all well, and I don’t like it. I think I must be afraid of water. I often dream about drowning.” She looked rather sombrely down at the lake: in the shadow of the causeway it was obscure and green, the water thick, full of weeds and floating matter.

“Do you? How funny. I never do,” said Dora. She turned to look at Catherine. It came to her how very melancholy she looked; and Dora, her imagination abruptly set in motion, wondered for a moment whether Catherine could possibly really want to be a nun.

“You can’t really want to go in there!” said Dora suddenly. “To shut yourself up like that, when you’re so young and so beautiful. I’m sorry, this is very rude and awful, I know. But it makes me quite miserable to think of you in there!”

Catherine looked up, surprised, and then smiled very kindly, looking straight at Dora for the first time. “There are things one doesn’t choose,” she said. “I don’t mean they’re forced on one. But one doesn’t choose them. These are often the best things.”

I was right, thought Dora, triumphantly. She doesn’t want to go in. It’s a sort of conspiracy against her. They’ve all been saying for so long that she’s going in, and calling her their little saint and so on, and now she can’t get out of it. And stuff like what James was saying this morning.

She was about to reply to Catherine when to her irritation she saw Paul coming towards them across the grass. He couldn’t leave her alone even for five minutes. Catherine saw him and with a murmur to Dora and an apologetic wave she turned and walked on across the causeway, leaving Dora standing.

Paul came up to her. “I couldn’t think where you’d got to,” he said.

“I wish you’d leave me alone sometimes,” said Dora.“I was having an interesting conversation with Catherine.”

“I can’t think what you and Catherine could find to say to each other,” said Paid. “You seem to have rather different interests!”

“Why shouldn’t I talk to Catherine?” said Dora. “Do you think I’m not worthy to, or something?”

“I didn’t say so,” said Paul, “but you evidently feel something of the sort! If you want my view, I think Catherine is everything that a woman should be – lovely, gentle, modest, and chaste.”

“You don’t respect me,” said Dora, her voice trembling.

“Of course I don’t respect you,” said Paul. “Have I any reason to? I’m in love with you, unfortunately, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s unfortunate for me too,” said Dora, starting to cry.

“Oh, stop it!” said Paul, “Stop it!”

Catherine had reached the other side of the lake and walked along under the Abbey wall. She passed the first door into the parlours, and went in by the door that led into the visitors’chapel. It seemed to Dora afterwards that she closed it behind her with a bang.

TOBY pushed open the door of the Lodge. There was ample time after the Service and before lunch to have a swim. When he had opened the door and stepped half inside he paused, as he always did, wondering where Nick Fawley was. Murphy came forward wagging his tail and jumped up rather lazily, presenting his two forelegs to the boy to hold. Toby held him for a moment, nuzzling down onto the soft warm head, and then straightened up. No sign of Nick. He was probably out. With a feeling of relief Toby bounded noisily up the stairs and got his bathing trunks. Admonished by James he had got some cheaply in the village. He took his towel, which was rather grimy and rébarbative by now with the mud of frequent swims, but still serving.

As he emerged onto the landing he heard Nick’s voice calling him from the next room. He went to the door and looked in. Nick was in bed. This was not unusual; he ought to have thought that Nick might be in bed.

“Who was spouting?” said Nick. He was propped up on his pillows and had been reading a detective story.

“James was,” said Toby. He was impatient to be away.

“Any good?” said Nick.

“Yes, jolly good,” said Toby. He felt embarrassed talking about this to Nick.

“What was it about?” said Nick.

“Oh, innocence and all that,” said Toby.

Nick, still in pyjamas, his plump face puffed out on the pillows, the long greasy wig of his hair descending on either side, suddenly looked to Toby like the Wolf pretending to be Grandmamma in the story. He smiled at the thought and felt less embarrassed.

“I’ll give you a sermon one day,” said Nick. “They haven’t asked me to spout, so I’ll give you a private one.”

Toby could think of nothing to say to this. He wondered how to take his leave, and said “Shall I take Murphy swimming with me?”

“If Murphy wants to come”, said Nick, “he’ll come even if you don’t want him, and if he doesn’t want to come he won’t even if you do.”

This was true enough. Toby said “Ah, well,” and rather ponderously raised his hand in a vague salute. Nick continued to stare at him till he turned and departed. It could not be said to have been a successful conversation.

Released, Toby ran quickly downstairs and out across the grass, calling to Murphy who seemed only too eager to come. Toby had with him his underwater swimming gear, the mask and the breathing tube, which he hoped he might find some chance to use somewhere in the lake. The river pools where he had swum so far, though deliciously clear, were rather shallow. Today Toby thought he would go toward the farther end of the lake, beyond the Abbey, where he had not yet explored. From the causeway he had seen in the distance what looked like a gravelly beach, on the Court side of the lake. Round about there the water might be clearer. He decided he would make a reconnaissance before lunch and come back again for longer later on. He had been saving up this expedition. He did not want to exhaust the mysteries of Imber too quickly.

He crossed in the ferry. Murphy elected on this occasion to ride in the boat, walking around boldly in the bottom of it, and making it rock by planting his paws on the edge. On reaching the other side Toby began to “run across the open grass by the Court, and passing the end of the causeway, took the lakeside path towards the wood. He was longing to be in the water and didn’t want to be delayed by meeting anyone. As he neared the wood he saw Dr and Mrs Greenfield. They seemed to be disputing about something, and when they saw him they turned away along the path that led inland toward the kitchen garden. Once inside the wood Toby ran even faster, but now for sheer delight, jumping over the long strands of bramble and the hummocks of grass which were growing freely on what used to be the path. Evidently no one came along this way.