Iris Murdoch - The Bell

Toby woke up and pushed Murphy off. He hadn’t been asleep more than a moment, to be sure, but now it was time to swim, his body so baked that it seemed it must sizzle as it entered the glossy water. The pike had gone away. The water lazed thickly at the foot of the ramp and the pale stones were not visible under it. There would be little point in underwater swimming here; the water would be too opaque to see anything. He stood, poised on the brink, looking down. The centre of the lake was glittering, colourlessly brilliant, but along the edge the green banks could be seen reflected and the blue sky, the colours clear yet strangely altered into the colours of a dimmer and more obscure world: the charm of swimming in still waters, that sense of passing through the looking-glass, of disturbing and yet entering that other scene that grows out of the roots of this one. Toby took a step or two and hurled himself in.

For a while he swam quietly about, waiting for the ripples to subside and the surface to re-form as a taut silky sheet touching his chin, enjoying as he did so the exquisite sensation of his body continuing to be hot in the cool water. It was as if a silver film covered him, caressing his limbs. He came back and lay like a stranded fish upon the ramp, his head and shoulders out of the water; and he could feel his skin being dried at once by the burning sun. The mask and breathing tube were within reach, and lying where he was he slipped them on and turned to crawl down the ramp, holding onto the edge of it, his head submerged. It was difficult to keep under water as the mask was buoyant and the stones provided no good hand-hold. He could see very little, but apprehended that the ramp extended at least eight feet under the surface. He threw the mask and tube back, and sank into the water again. This time he tried walking down the ramp but found himself out of his depth before he reached the end of it. He was joined by Murphy who swam round him in a dignified fashion, contriving to keep his fluffy side-whiskers and most of his brown beard high and dry out of the water.

Toby was sorry it was too dark to see under the water. He thought he would swim down all the same and see if he could touch the bottom of the ramp, to find whether it ended before it reached the floor of the lake. He did not know how deep the lake was just here. Toby was a strong underwater swimmer. Upending himself he dived vertically and found the side of the stone slope with his hand as he began to straighten out under the water. He opened his eyes and saw the opaque green sunlight-penetrated water and the paler stone of the ramp, speckled with moving light from the ripples on the surface. In a moment the ramp had ended, disappearing into the ooze of the lake bottom. Toby’s hand plunged into the mud. He withdrew it quickly and shot up to the surface again. After all, the lake was not very deep.

He swam a little farther out and then dived again so that he went vertically down to where the ramp ended and then swam out along the soft lake floor. He opened his eyes, but now there was nothing to be seen except an obscure green light. Fascinated, he clove the very soft ooze with his hands as he glided along. It was so soft, almost as soft and giving as the water, and yet somehow sinister. Supposing he were to find a corpse or something, a human form half buried in that deep ancient deposit? As he thought this thought Toby’s hand encountered something hard and rough. Half a-larmed he rose to the surface and swam in a circle, panting. He had been under for quite a long time. He got his breath back. What he had touched was doubtless an old tin can, and he examined his hand to make sure he hadn’t cut himself. He knew from experience that one can wound oneself quite seriously under water without noticing it. He seemed to be intact. It must be nearly time now to go back to lunch.

He thought he would dive just once more to see what it was that he had touched. He went down like a plummet, opening his eyes.and spreading his hands wide over the bottom. He shovelled the ooze about a little and then felt a hard projecting surface. He got his fingers underneath it and pulled. The thing, whatever it was, must be quite large and deeply embedded in the mud. The water, even thicker now with the disturbance of the bottom, was entirely opaque. Toby held on to the thing with one hand, keeping himself down, while with the other he explored it. He felt a thick arc-shaped rim raised above the ooze and descending into it on both sides. It might be a large vase; only the arc was too wide for a vase. The thing must be big: an old boiler perhaps. He felt the outside surface of it cautiously behind the rim. It seemed to be pitted and fretted, perhaps with rust or with some watery vegetation. His breath gave out and he had to surface again.

As he trod water, quietly inhaling, he heard across the Abbey grounds the hand bell ringing the Angélus. That meant that he ought to go almost at once if he didn’t want to have to run all the way back. He determined to dive just once more and try to dig the thing out. He dived, and found it at once this time, and began to shovel away the ooze from all round it, holding onto the massive rim with one hand. The upper half of it seemed to emerge quite easily from the mud. The rim to which he had attached himself was the widest part, and now he could feel more of the arc he reckoned it must be several feet across. It appeared to be circular, the lower part of the circle being still submerged. Within the rim it seemed to be hollow, becoming narrower. It occurred to Toby that it might possibly be a large bell. By this time he was breathless again and had to let go.

He swam in to the ramp and rested for a moment. The investigation had been quite strenuous. He reached a dripping hand up to his clothes and fished his wrist watch out of his trousers pockets. Heavens, it was late! He scrambled quickly out of the water, dried himself summarily, and began to dress. It had been a splendid expedition; he would certainly come back again soon. It would be fun to explore that thing down in the water, though it probably wasn’t really anything very exciting. Meanwhile, he resolved he would say nothing to the others about this delightful place but keep it privately for himself.

IT was James Tayper Pace who suggested to Michael that he should take Toby with him in the Land-Rover. Michael was going in to Swindon to buy the mechanical cultivator. Though several days had elapsed since the Meeting, and Michael was longing for his toy, he had not had time to make the journey. Now it was Wednesday, and he was determined to go, come what might, in the late afternoon. The shop would be shut by the time he arrived, but he had made his arrangements by telephone and the shop people, with whom he had already done a lot of business, said he might pick the thing up any time before seven.

“Why not take young Toby with you?” said James. They were leaving the estate office together. “It’ll just mean his knocking off half an hour early. Let him see a bit of the countryside. He’s been working like a black.”

This would not have occurred to Michael; but it seemed a splendid idea, and when he was nearly ready to go he went to look for Toby in the kitchen garden.

He found him, with Patchway, hoeing the brussels sprouts.

“Don’t be so careful wi’ ‘em,” Patchway was saying.“Knock ‘em around! Does them good.”

Toby straightened up to greet Michael. The boy was well bronzed now and oily with sweat. Patchway, stripped to the waist, was still wearing his redoubtable trilby.

“I was wondering if Toby would care to come with me into Swindon, just for the ride,” said Michael to Patchway, “if you can spare him.”

Patchway grunted and looked at Toby, who said, “I’d love to, if that’s all right!”