Iris Murdoch - The Sandcastle

‘Daddy,’ said Felicity, ‘when we go to London do you think we could have another dog?’

Mor was very near to tears. Not the tears that he cried, as Rain had told him, inside his eyes, but visible tears that would stream down and wet his cheeks. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I expect we might have a dog when we go to London, if you’d like that.’

They had reached the top of the hill. They mounted their bicycles and began to free-wheel down the other side towards Mor’s house. The tears came to him now, coursing down his cheeks and blown away by the wind. He put one hand to his eyes. By the time he had reached his own front gate they were no longer flowing.

Nan was standing at the door. Mor leaned his bicycle against the fence and came up the path, followed by Felicity. He looked at Nan. He felt that his shoulders were bowed. She looked at him. She looked very tired and like an old woman. Before they could exchange any words a sound was heard which Mor recognized. It was the note of Tim Burke’s Velocette. They all three turned back to the road.

Tim Burke appeared round the corner, riding very slowly now. Donald was sitting behind him on the pillion, his arms clasped round Tim’s waist. The machine stopped outside the house and the two riders dismounted. Donald was still dressed in the flannels and gym shoes which he had worn on the day of the climb. He was also wearing an old mackintosh. His face was pale and withdrawn. Tim held him by the shoulder and turned towards the group at the gate. He seemed as nervous about his own reception as about Donald’s. He said in a defiant voice, ‘The prodigal’s return!’

‘Come inside,’ said Mor. He led the way into the house. Donald followed directly after him, pushed forward by Tim Burke. They all crowded into the hall. Mor turned to Donald. The boy looked at him, raising his eyebrows in a half humorous half desperate appeal. Mor embraced him, holding him fast for a minute in his arms. Then he said, ‘I expect you’re dead tired.’

Felicity was hugging him now and Nan was kissing him on the cheek. ‘I’m exhausted,’ said Donald. ‘I’m afraid I gave Tim an awful night too. We’ve hardly slept’

‘You’d better go straight to bed,’ said Nan. ‘Your clothes look as if they’re sticking to your body. Off with you now, and I’ll bring you up some hot coffee and an egg in bed.’

Donald began to mount the stairs. Mor followed after him and went with him into his bedroom. The door closed behind them.

Nan went into the kitchen. She nodded to Tim Burke to come with her. She put the kettle on the stove, and a saucepan to boil the egg. She lit the gas. Then she looked towards Tim Burke. He was sitting beside the table in an attitude of dejection. He would not meet her eye.

Felicity was sitting by herself on the stairs, half-way up. From the kitchen she could hear the noise of crockery and of the hissing gas. From up above she could hear the quiet sound of voices as Mor and Donald were talking in the bedroom. Everything was all right now. Why was it then that she was starting to cry? She fumbled in her clothes until she found a handkerchief. Her eyes were filled with tears and soon they were streaming down her face. She gave a little sob into her handkerchief. Everything was all right now. It was all right. It was all right.

IRIS MURDOCH IN PENGUIN

Fiction

Under the Net

The Flight from the Enchanter

The Sandcastle

The Bell

A Severed Head

An Unofficial Rose

The Unicorn

The Italian Girl

The Red and the Green

The Time of the Angels

The Nice and the Good

Bruno’s Dream

A Fairly Honourable Defeat

An Accidental Man

The Black Prince

The Sacred and Profane Love Machine

A Word Child

Henry and Cato

The Sea, the Sea

Nuns and Soldiers

The Philosopher’s Pupil

The Good Apprentice

The Book and the Brotherhood

The Message to the Planet

The Green Knight

Jackson’s Dilemma

Non-Fiction

Acastos: Two Platonic Dialogues

Metaphysics As a Guide to Morals