Iris Murdoch - Bruno’s Dream

”Yes. It’s terribly hot.”

”I’ll wrap it up in something.”

”No, don’t bother.”

”Do you want another blanket?”

”No, no, I couldn’t stand the weight. Adelaide, could you go out and see if it’s really flooding?”

”Don’t be silly! They’d warn us if it was. It’s just a high tide. They’re always making something out of nothing.”

”Adelaide, please go out and see. Oh God, I wish Danby would come back.”

”I don’t know what you mean go out and see! There’s nothing to see but rain. And if I go out in that I’ll be soaked to the skin.”

”Well, ring up someone, would you, ring up the police-Please, Adelaide-“

”I can’t think what you’re so fussed about. All right, I’ll ring up.”

Adelaide closed Bruno’s door and went down the stairs. The stairs seemed darker than usual. In the hall she fumbled for the telephone book and had to take it into the drawing room to look up the number. The drawing room looked empty and crazy, the big front bow windows black and roaring. Adelaide saw that a stream of water was finding its way in from the window and making a long dark stain upon the carpet. She went back to the telephone and lifted the receiver. She began to dial. Then she realized that there was no dial ling tone. The telephone was dead. She put the receiver down and lifted it again. Still dead.

Adelaide left the telephone. She stood in the dimness of the hall, cramming a hand into her mouth. She went to open the street door, but closed it quickly again as a blast of violent rain screamed against her out of the darkness. The rain was so thick that the street lamps were obscured by it and all seemed dark outside. If only someone could help, she thought, if only someone would come. The neighbours were all elderly people and anyway she scarcely knew them. If only Danby would come. The loneliness, the noise, the terrified Bruno were suddenly intolerable. Adelaide thought, I’ll just go out as far as the King’s Arms on Cheyne Walk. There would be bright lights there and joking people who would laugh at her alarm. She called up the stairs to Bruno, “It’s all right. The police say it’s all right. I’m just going out for a moment to look. I won’t be long.”

She put on her mackintosh and drew a scarf over her head and, holding the latch key in her hand, opened the door. Once she was outside it was quite difficult to close the door again. The sheer weight of the rain and the wind, driving obliquely, pressed the door away from her hand. She pulled it to, went down the few steps and began to go along the street. The gutters were overflowing and the pavements were running with water. The road was like a stream and the water was squelching inside her shoes. After a few steps she paused, already soaked to the skin. The air was a blackness of thick water. It was insane to go through this deluge. But then she thought again of the lights and laughter of the King’s Arms and she began to hurry on.

By the time Adelaide got to the turning into Cremorne Road she was panting with exhaustion and with terror. Her clothes were clinging to her and impeding her movements. The water appeared to be round her ankles. With the rain hissing and splashing so, it was hard to tell. Some way off, be yond the curtain of the downpour, she could now hear a strange awful roaring noise. She stood at the corner, looking towards Cheyne Walk, but the rain was too thick for her to see anything. Someone called to her from a doorstep, then banged the door against the rain. Adelaide could feel the water now, tugging at her ankles, moving with greater force. A man appeared out of the darkness, running or trying to run. He shouted to her, “Don’t go down there!”

”What’s happening?” shouted Adelaide. The noise almost drowned her voice.

”The water’s coming over the embankment wall. Don’t go there, get back! The police-“ The figure disappeared, plunging and splashing and hopping in the stream of rising water.

”Oh, oh, oh!” Adelaide cried to herself with fear as she began to run back along the road. Already it was not any more like running. It was more like wading. Each foot as it came down was gripped by the moving water. One of Adelaide’s shoes came off and she kicked off the other one. She grabbed at railings, gasping. Then she began to lift her feet higher and splash along, wailing in panic. Someone at an upstairs window was calling out hysterically. Just as Adelaide reached her own front door and had mounted the steps out of the stream and thrust the key frantically into the lock something happened. She had been seeing the glint of the rain, a diffused glitter of swirling water, little chips of light moving about in the dark. Now there was only blackness as if a velvet band had been wrapped around her head. She thrust the door open and stum bled in. It took her a moment to realize what had happened. The lights in the house had gone out. The power station must be flooded. Adelaide had to lean against the door to close it, still cry ing to herself with fear. She could hear Bruno’s voice calling shrilly upstairs. The interior darkness was thick and stifling. She groped her way to the stairs. “Adelaide, Adelaide, come quickly, the lights-“ She blundered, hands outstretched, to Bruno’s door. “Adelaide, what’s happening? Is there a flood!” She crossed the room and felt in the dark for his hand. It was like holding a few dry twigs. “It’s all right. It’s just rain water. The power station must have got swamped.” Not to frighten the old man. If he gets panic-stricken I shall break down.

”You didn’t ring the police at all, I heard-“

”Yes, I did. Everything’s all right.”

”No, it isn’t. That noise isn’t just rain. The Thames must be coming over the walls. It’ll be coming in downstairs. Go and see. And bring some candles, it’s so awful in the dark-“

Adelaide groped her way to the door and descended the stairs holding onto the banisters on each side. It’s only water, she told herself, it doesn’t matter if it does come in, we should be safe upstairs. If only the noise was not so terrible. If only Danby would come. But through that downpour nobody would come. She thought, there’s a torch in the drawer of the hall table. Her sense of direction and distance seemed to have been destroyed. She blundered about, found the table and got her fingers onto the torch. She switched it on and directed the beam down the stairs which led to her bedroom and the kitchen. There was a strange new sound coming from down there, a gurgling and a hissing. The little light pointed down into the darkness and was quenched. Adelaide took several steps down the stairs. The circle of light revealed the surface of moving water. Adelaide stared, appalled, fascinated. Then she thought, my clothes, my things!

She splashed down into the water, which was now almost ankle deep at the foot of the stairs, and on into her bedroom. There were two suitcases on the floor and one on the bed. She seized her handbag, picked the cases out of the water, and began to struggle with them back up the stairs, holding the lighted torch against her thigh. She bumped them up stair by stair as far as the ground-floor landing. Bruno was shouting. She paid no attention but darted back down the stairs for the third suitcase. What else should she take? Her over coat. She took it off the peg and began fumbling with it trying to put it on over her soaking clinging mackintosh. It was impossible. Her arms felt like putty and she was shuddering and crying with cold. She dragged the suitcase and a bundle of overcoat and dressing gown up to the landing and ran down again. There were candles somewhere in the kitchen, but where? She stood on the stairs flashing her torch onto the race of water just below her. She could not make out if it was rising. The gurgling hissing sound was now very close to her and she made out that it was caused by the water from the street running down the steps at the side of the house and into the yard at the back, which was below street level. The water must be coming in under the side door.