Iris Murdoch - The Sandcastle

He met Mr Everard crossing the playground. His face wore an anxious expression. ‘I hope you’re coming this time, Bill?’ he said.

‘Most certainly!’ said Mor. He felt like embracing Evvy. He wondered if he was looking as wild as he felt.

‘It’s rather a relief that you’ll be there,’ said Evvy, shaking his head. ‘I only hope things won’t get out of hand.’

The School was already trooping into the Gym. The dark curtains had been drawn, and the lights were on inside. Outside, the evening was warm and the air was penetrated with smells, conjured up by the recent rain, which lay in heavy layers, earth and leaves and flowers. A pleasant hazy twilight enveloped the school, softening the bleakness of the red brick and turning the neo-Gothic into Gothic. Opposite to the Gym the tower soared up magnificently into the curling rings of evening mist and darkness, and here and there a few lighted windows made by their gold the surrounding air more dusk. One by one the lights went out. It was customary for everyone at St Bride’s to attend Bledyard’s lecture.

A violent and increasing din of high-pitched voices and clattering chairs issued from the Gymnasium. Already the slightly hysterical note was to be heard. Then someone clapped his hands and some voice, probably Hensman’s, said, ‘Stop that noise, you’ll bring the roof down! If you all talk in your ordinary voices you’ll all hear each other perfectly well.’ An instant later the din was renewed, louder than before. Mor reflected that he probably ought to be inside supporting Hensman. It was on the latter that the task of working the epidiascope had now devolved. Usually this task was performed by Mr Baseford — but in his absence popular vote had given it to Hensman. Mor reflected that Hensman could hardly do it worse than Baseford, and was likely to do it better, since he was totally imperturbable and impervious to any kind of ragging. Mor was rather glad that he had not himself been detailed for this tiresome, and on this occasion rather nerve-rending, duty. Still leaving Hensman to control the increasingly rowdy scene within, he stood looking towards the far end of the playground. He hoped to see Rain arriving, and if possible to sit near her, even next to her.

It was growing darker. A stream of juniors went by, carrying additional chairs. They sped past in a mad race for the Gymnasium door. Three of them, reaching the door simultaneously, locked themselves together into a thick yelling tangle of small boys and upturned furniture in the doorway. A struggle developed, someone pretended to have been knocked out. Mor took a few steps towards the scene. The barricade of chairs and squirming bodies dissolved instantly and the children vanished into the Gym, to dispute with their friends for the best places. As Mor turned round again he saw Rain coming across the playground escorted by Mr and Mrs Prewett. It seemed to Mor as if she glowed in the twilight and came towards him carried by a gentle but infinitely powerful wind. Even the Prewett’s, who were walking on each side of her, had caught some of the radiance from her triumphal course. How exceedingly nice the Prewetts are! Mor thought. They were both smiling at him. Rain’s face he could hardly see. As he stepped forward, Evvy suddenly appeared out of the evening air and intercepted Rain. He had been lurking in the doorway of the Library building, shirking the scene in the Gym. He took charge of Rain and began to escort her towards the door. Mor followed with Mr and Mrs Prewett.

As he entered, Mor blinked at the bright light within, and at the noise which had now settled to a sort of continuous high-pitched rumbling scream, not unlike a jet engine. He saw Evvy’s back ahead of him, and then his profile. Evvy was visibly shaken by the scene. The small boys in the very front, once it had become clear that some people would have to sit on the floor, had taken it into their heads to lay several rows of chairs on their sides, and by this method to seat three boys on each chair, one sitting on the back, one on the seat, and one on the legs. Round each of the prostrated chairs a small squabble was going on as the occupants attempted to reach a suitable equilibrium. Beyond this riot area the older boys were massed, eager, chattering, wildly animated, right to the back of the hall, some standing up, some kneeling on their chairs, some sitting astride talking to people behind them. Already the rows were so crooked in some places that it was impossible to discern whether there was a row at all. The chairs were placed higgledy-piggledy in a great clattering undulating sea.

Evvy, who seemed to be, no doubt because of the presence of Rain, more than usually paralysed, picked his way without a word between the juniors down a ragged aisle which had been left clear in the middle, at the far end of which stood the epidiascope. Mor followed closely, nipping in in front of the Prewett’s, determined if possible to sit next to Rain. He felt at that moment as light-hearted as a Fifth-Former. As he passed through the shrieking barrage of juniors he said in a penetrating voice, ‘Put those chairs upright!’ He hoped this would not offend Evvy. But in fact when it came to it nothing ever offended Evvy, dear old Evvy. And to permit this sort of anarchy right from the start was really asking for trouble. The juniors scrambled to right the chairs, and further battles then developed between the different trios as to who should be the single occupant of each. Mor left them to it, passing on close behind Rain and the Head.

In front of the epidiascope, on either side of the aisle, there were a number of chairs which had been kept free by Hensman. Several masters had already settled themselves in this region of comparative safety. With a sigh of relief Evvy ushered Rain in and flopped down beside her. Mor was able quickly to instal himself on her other side, and the Prewetts sat next to him. He looked round to see who was behind him and to see if he could locate Donald in the throng, but his son was not to be seen.

Bledyard had already arrived. He was usually in fact the first man in the Gym on the evening of his lecture. He stood now in the open space in front of the junior boys, leaning upon the long rod which he was to use to draw attention to features of the various pictures and to tap the ground for the next slide. Behind him a great white sheet had been suspended on the wall of the Gym. He leaned there, looking into the pullulating crowd of boys, his face twisted into a sort of bland and pensive expression, as if he were rehearsing what he was about to say and finding it extremely interesting. Bledyard never needed to speak from notes. When once set off, on any subject on which he chose to hold forth, he could continue indefinitely in his stumbling but unhurried manner, with sustained coherence and even elegance. Bledyard was in his way a good speaker and could have impressed almost any audience but an audience of school-boys.

It was customary for lecturers, if they belonged to the school and were not outsiders, to begin their lectures without introduction once the Headmaster had arrived. Bledyard therefore watched to see Mr Everard seated, and then rapped sharply upon the ground with his rod. He looked completely unruffled and reminded Mor suddenly of a representation of a pilgrim, leaning on his staff, patient and full of hope. Bledyard must surely know what he was in for. But he seemed each year to be, on the occasion of his lecture, full simply of the subject in hand, and he accepted the storms that so often broke over him without surprise but also without interest. On one occasion when Demoyte had had to stop the lecture in the middle because the School had become totally hysterical, Bledyard would have been quite willing to continue, although not a single word would have been audible. He stood now, head slightly bowed, as the hubbub gradually died down and was reduced to a low mirthful murmur. He had pushed his long limp strands of dark hair back behind each ear, revealing a large area of very pale cheek, which now grew concave, sucked thoughtfully into his mouth. The lights went out.