Iris Murdoch - The Sandcastle

Nan sat down amid applause, and an immediate buzz of excited talk. Everyone knew that something odd was happening, nobody knew what it was. Curious stares were directed at Mor. Sir Leopold was filling Nan’s glass. She sat there with her elbow on the table, her face hidden by her hand. Evvy was saying to Demoyte that he hoped Miss Carter had not been taken ill, and oughtn’t they - Demoyte got up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Mor closed his eyes.

Some ten or fifteen minutes passed during which Evvy made some rather lengthy concluding remarks and the bottle circulated again. Then the company began to rise to their feet to adjourn to the Common Room. Several people converged on Mor, to make sympathetic remarks and offer good wishes. He walked with them through the door into the Common Room. Then he excused himself and ran out into the corridor.

He ran down the steps and out into the playground. It was an exceedingly dark night, and apart from the blaze from the windows above him no lights were on in the school. Only a lamp burning at the comer of School House lit up an expanse of asphalt and gravel and the edges of the grass. He looked about. Where had Rain gone to? Where could he find her now? He began to run down the drive. He saw the Riley parked upon the grass verge. But there was no sign of Rain. He called her name, cautiously at first and then more loudly. He turned and ran back to the main buildings, hoping to see some trace of her or of Demoyte. There was nobody. He ran up as far as the school gates. It was in vain. He came back, panting with exhaustion, and fell down, hiding his face in the grass near to the wheels of the car.

Chapter Nineteen

MOR waited beside the car for a long time. Now and then voices were to be heard and footsteps on the gravel, but it was only the departing guests. No one came near the Riley. At last he got up and searched for a while in the grounds, more or less aimlessly. Then he ran to find his bicycle. It was not in the shed in the masters’ garden. It must be at home. He began to run as fast as he could towards his house. He wondered how long a time had passed. He could not judge. Why had he let her go away? If only he had held her then, taking her hand before the whole company, none of the forces which Nan had tried to drive between them would have been of any avail.

As he came near his house he saw that there was a light on in Nan’s room. She had evidently returned. He forced his way through the gate, kicking it violently open, and ran down the side way into the garden to find his bicycle. As he dragged the machine towards the road he could hear the curtains being drawn back. Light fell upon the path and on the flowers which he had kicked aside. Nan was looking out. He paid no attention and did not look round. He mounted the machine, bounced noisily off the pavement, and began to pedal as hard as he could in the direction of Brayling’s Close.

There was a light on in the hall of the Close and another in the drawing-room. The bicycle came bucking across the gravel, and Mor dismounted it at speed. As he ran the last few steps he saw that the front door was ajar. Demoyte was standing in the hall. Their bodies came into violent collision. Demoyte seized Mor by the shoulder in a grip that hurt. For a second he thought that the old man was going to strike him. Mor wrenched himself free. The power which he had lacked when he sat at the dinner table now flowed in him with such abundance that he could have torn a wall down to reach Rain.

‘Where is she?’ he said to Demoyte.

‘I don’t know!’ said Demoyte. He began to say something else, but Mor had already turned and shot out of the door again. He seized the bicycle, which seemed to have got entangled in a rose bush, shook it free, and began to pedal back in the direction of the school. He moaned aloud now, partly with breathlessness and partly with the agony of suspense. For he still did not know what had happened.

The bicycle came hurtling down the drive. The Riley was still there. Mor braked violently and dismounted beside the car. What could he do now? Where could he look? It was impossible to find her, yet impossible too to endure her disappearance. It came to him that this was the first time for many weeks that he had not known where Rain was. He threw the bicycle on the grass verge and began to walk towards the playground. She might still be here, somewhere inside the school. The lamp had been extinguished at the comer of School House and the drive was in total darkness. Hours had passed. It must now be well after midnight. Everyone would have gone home. Yet perhaps she was still here. The Riley had not gone. She must be somewhere here.

He walked into the playground and looked about him. All was dark. Except for one light. Looking up, Mor saw that a light was still burning in the masters’ dining-room. They were probably clearing up the remains of the dinner. But at that hour? He stood looking at the light. Then he began to run towards the door of the building, his feet clattering on the asphalt and his footsteps echoing from the dark façades. The main door was unlocked. He mounted the stairs two at a time and blundered into the Common Room which was in darkness. He switched the lights on, sprang across the room, and threw open the door of the dining-room.

A bright electric bulb now lit the room, which looked exceedingly strange. The remnants of the feast had been removed. It seemed at first as if there was no one there. Then Mor saw Rain. She was high above his head. She had found a very tall step ladder and had set it up, standing it upon the tiles of the fireplace. She was sitting now upon the very top, level with the portrait which still hung in its place high aloft above the mantelshelf. She was applying paint to the canvas. She held the enormous palette upon her left hand and her lap was full of paints. Paint marks of all colours streaked her white evening-dress which fell in a great fan about her, hanging down over the side of the ladder. As the door opened she did not look round but continued carefully with what she was doing. She was working on the head.

‘Rain!’ said Mor. He ran to the foot of the ladder and shook it violently as if he wanted to hurl her to the ground.

She steadied herself, and then turned back to the picture. He saw that as she worked the tears were streaming slowly down her face, steadily one after the other.

‘Rain!’ said Mor, ‘that was not true. It was simply a trick of Nan’s. Surely you weren’t taken in?’

‘It is true,’ said Rain, in a dull voice. ‘I asked Mr Demoyte.’

‘Well, it was an idea I had once,’ said Mor, ‘but Nan misrepresented the whole thing. And we never discussed it or agreed anything like she said. You can’t possibly have believed that!’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Rain, ‘it’s what you want to do.’ She was still staring through her falling tears at the picture.

‘That isn’t so,’ said Mor. ‘I swear it isn’t so! I’d quite given up any plans of that kind.’

‘Yes, said Rain, ’because of me.‘ She took the brush away and turned to look down at him. Her small feet were neatly together upon a high step of the ladder, the toes of her shoes just visible under the white dress. Mor reached up to touch her.

‘No, no,’ said Mor. Holding her feet he leaned his head against the ladder. How could he convince her?

‘Look,’ he said, ‘this makes no difference at all. Why should it? I ought to have told you long ago, only I didn’t want to complicate things. If I’d told you myself you wouldn’t have made this into a difficulty, would you? You’re just upset because it came from Nan. Well, don’t be such a fool. I love you, and nothing else is of any importance. This other thing is empty in comparison, it’s nothing. I love you, I should perish without you. Will you understand that?’ He spoke savagely, trying to force the ideas into her mind.