Iris Murdoch - The Sandcastle

The impudence of him! thought Mor. He hoped that Miss Carter would not realize the significance of the spectacle. He feared that she would. Then suddenly he began to laugh aloud.

‘What is it?’ said Miss Carter.

Mor went on laughing. ‘What a droll fellow Bledyard is!’ he said.

The car gathered pace.

Chapter Six

THE Riley turned on to the main road.

I’m so sorry,‘ said Miss Carter, ’if I sounded rather short when I offered you the lift. I was afraid Mr Bledyard might accept. I really couldn’t have endured his company for another moment.‘

‘That’s all right,’ said Mor. ‘The first hour is the worst. One does get used to him in time. There’s something very remarkable about Bledyard.’

‘He is certainly remarkable,’ said Miss Carter, ‘but infuriating. I’m sure he isn’t mad - but he has a characteristic of mad people. He argues insistently and coherently and with the appearance of logic - but somehow it’s just all wrong, there’s some colossal distortion.’

‘I know,’ said Mor, thinking suddenly of his wife. ‘Yet Bledyard commands respect. One has to ask oneself now and then whether it isn’t one’s own vision that’s distorted.’

‘Yes,’ said Miss Carter. ‘Oh dear!’ She stopped the car abruptly. They were almost outside the main entrance to the school. Do you mind if we talk for a minute or two? I seem to have brought you back already. I really feel knocked out by that conversation. It’s a great relief to be able to talk to you.

‘Not at all,’ said Mor. ‘I’m in no hurry. I haven’t anything special to do this afternoon.’ He felt pleased at what she had said.

“Well, in that case,‘ said Miss Carter, ’perhaps we could drive on a bit. I know it’s very naughty, and I ought to be working, but I really must have some air. I expect you need some too. I’ll bring you back almost at once.‘ She let in the clutch and the Riley glided off again.

Mor immediately began to feel guilty. Although he was not actually teaching, there were in fact a lot of things that he ought to be doing that afternoon. All the same, it was so delightful to fly along in the car, the still summer air changed to a warm breeze, and the noisy menacing main road to an open obedient highway that for once really led somewhere. Mor saw that they had crossed the railway bridge without his even noticing the hill. All this was good for him, he felt, after the strained atmosphere of Mr Everard’s drawing-room. It would be all right to go a little way.

‘I’m really upset by that man,’ said Miss Carter. She was very serious. It was clear that she could think about nothing but Bledyard.

‘Well then, confound him!’ said Mor, laughing, ‘if he upset you!’

‘No, no,’ said Miss Carter, ‘as you said yourself, he may be right - or rather, I don’t actually think he’s right, but it all comes as a sudden — reproach. I take my art very seriously. Indeed, now it’s all I have. I know I’m quite good. I believe I shall be better. But this man makes me feel that everything I do must be rotten. In a way it is - rotten, rotten, I know.’ She said the word as a foreigner would say it, giving it significance. She was speaking excitedly again, her small hand gesturing above the steering-wheel. And as she spoke she accelerated. The sandy edges of the main road flashed madly past and a number of cars were left behind. In a moment the speedometer was at seventy. Miss Carter seemed scarcely to notice. Mor held on to his seat.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘and do slow down. I don’t often travel in cars. As Bledyard said, each must find his own way. And as you said, his remarks are too abstract. The answer to him is the works themselves. And your answer is your work. When you’re not distracted by theories, when you’re alone with the work, you know what you have to do, and at least in what direction perfection lies.’ Mor spoke earnestly. He felt that here too was something to be taught, something to be understood. And he too had something which he must try to understand. He wanted to continue the conversation.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Miss Carter. She put the brake on, and they proceeded for a little way in silence. By this time they had reached the outskirts of Marsington. The car stopped at the traffic lights.

‘Turn left here,’ said Mor. ‘Let’s get off the main road.’ He didn’t want to go past Tim Burke’s shop.

They turned, and in a moment or two they were in a country lane. The murmur of the traffic diminished to silence. The leaves met over their heads. Miss Carter slowed the car down. ‘This is a surprise,’ she said, ‘that to escape is so easy. I wonder if there is a river anywhere near here? I feel so hot - it would be wonderful to see some water. I suppose it’s too far to go to the sea?’

‘Oh, much too far!’ said Mor, scandalized. It’s rather a dry country about here, but I expect I could find some sort of little river for you. Let me see. Yes, if you drive on another few miles there should be one. Drive on anyhow, and I’ll recognize the way when I see it.‘

‘Are you sure I’m not keeping you from anything?’ said Miss Carter. ‘You must say as soon as you want to go back. Or perhaps I could take you somewhere, or go and collect something for you? I believe you said you hadn’t got a car.’

‘I haven’t,’ said Mor, ‘and in fact you could help me by dropping me in a little while quite near here. There’s someone I ought to see, and since we’re so close I might as well go this afternoon. It’ll save me a railway journey. But let’s find your river first. It won’t take long.’ It had occurred to Mor that since he was practically in Marsington he might call again on Tim Burke. In his exalted state of mind of the previous evening he had failed to have a sufficiently precise conversation with Tim. He ought to be, Mor thought, more fully briefed about the financial aspect of the enterprise before raising the question with either Nan or Evvy. Nan would be certain to make some objections on the grounds of finance — and in order to convince her his answers must be exact. Another talk with Tim would be exceedingly useful.

‘Good,’ said Miss Carter. The road opened before them and she let the car take it at a rush. Mor’s recent nervousness was clearly far from her mind. From the expression on her face he suspected she was still thinking of Bledyard’s reproach. He saw her eyes side view behind the dark glasses and they were large with thought. She held the steering-wheel lightly with one small hand, and the other arm lay along the edge of the window. A grove of pine trees swept past behind her head, and an odour of sand and resin filled the car. It was indeed a dry country.

It occurred to Mor that he had told Nan he would be back for tea. He said to Miss Carter, ‘Would you mind stopping if you see a telephone-box? I must just ring my wife to tell her what time I’ll be back.’

‘Certainly,’ said Miss Carter. A telephone-box appeared very soon, and she stopped the car.

Mor went into the box and fumbled for his sixpence. A curious stillness surrounded him after the sound of the engine. Out of this, in a moment or two, came Nan’s voice speaking. She always sounded apprehensive when she picked up the telephone. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello, Nan,’ said Mor. ‘It’s Bill. I just thought I’d ring to say I won’t be home for tea. I’ve got one or two things to do, and then I have to go and see Tim Burke about a Labour Party thing.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Nan. ‘When will you be home?’

‘Oh, about five-thirty, I expect,’ said Mor. ‘Maybe sooner. Cheerio.’

He put the phone down. Then he stood quite still in the telephone-box and a strange cold feeling came over him. Why on earth had he done that? Why had he told Nan a lie? Why hadn’t he said that he was out with Miss Carter in the car? He hadn’t even reflected about it, he had told the lie immediately, without even thinking. Why? He supposed it must have been because he was vaguely aware that Nan would be very sarcastic and unpleasant about his wasting the afternoon in this way. But this wasn’t a reason for telling her a lie. Anyhow, it was so idiotic. Anyone might have seen him and Miss Carter in the car together. But that wasn’t the point. He ought not to have lied to Nan. He came slowly out of the box.