The Good Apprentice (68 page)

Authors: Iris Murdoch

BOOK: The Good Apprentice

3.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

In spite of the sick frightened preoccupation with which he travelled Edward could not help feeling eased by seeing the sea and stepping down off the grass onto the clean stony shingle, the brown smoothed flints of the sea shore of which Ilona had told him. He marched over the crunching stones, then stood a while and watched the small waves breaking, affectionately pawing at the land, and heard the faint rhythmic swish of their fall and the grating sound of their withdrawal. Black and white oyster-catchers were running along the verge of the water uttering their trilling fluty cries. But he could not enjoy the sea today, it filled him with loneliness and foreboding and sorrow, and the clear curving line of the horizon did not inspire in him its usual magisterial calm. Today the sea’s magic was other, alien and dangerous in the sunshine, its blue very cold. He went on, first beside the water, then returning to the raised bank of the railway which was easier to walk on. After a little while he could see the beach ahead of him crossed by a stone wall and a line of white broken water stretching out into the sea. This must be the little harbour of the ‘fisherfolk’ Mother May had mentioned, whose village ‘fell into the fen’ after the great storm and flood which also put an end to the railway. The harbour when he reached it seemed almost intact, both piers, one straight, one crooked, enclosing a space of calm water where some terns were fishing. The shattered remains of the station platform appeared suddenly beside him but of the village itself he could at first see no trace. Then gazing about he began to discern here and there whole large fragments of stone walls, leaning over at strange angles as in mediaeval pictures of destroyed cities, surrounded by watery pits and overgrown by ivy and wild buddleia. Edward did not pause, however, indeed he had now begun to run, as he could see the river estuary not far ahead.

The railway track turned slightly inland but Edward ran straight on, running upon fairly firm grass and leaping over occasional stony grassy humps. The river, which had disappeared from view behind high reeds and willows, now opened at his feet so suddenly that he nearly fell in. He stopped and looked at the wide exceedingly calm expanse of purposively moving water, reflecting blue sky and some tall poplars on the other side. Edward stood there and his legs positively ached with a desire to stand still, to turn back. Then he felt the fear again, the terrible black choking fear which he had now felt twice before. His diaphragm was pierced, the lower part of his body filled with blackness. He panted for breath. Breathing deeply he forced himself to move forward, to walk slowly upstream, gauging the diminishing width of the river and looking over the bank into the reeds which grew in clumps of varying size in the stream, joined here and there by white comfrey and yellow irises and floating beds of water crowfoot. He kept looking for a certain formation of willow trees, but there were many willows, like and yet not like what he could recall. Then he saw where the stream had made a little beach with stones, and some way beyond it was visible a stone structure jutting out into the water which he saw at once must be the remains of the bridge or causeway upon which the railway had crossed the river. Edward, panting again and with his hand at his throat, walked on a little and then stopped. He was dizzied with gazing down into the dark reedy water. He thought, I must have passed the place and
there’s nothing there.
Oh let there be nothing and let me be free to go home. I’ve tried, I’ve tried. But would that be freedom, would he ever now be free? He thought, I’ll do another fifty yards and then go. Then he saw the willows, at least a cluster of willows which seemed to stir his memory in a new way. He went on more quickly until he was near the trees then knelt down on the bank, peering intently over the edge. At first he saw only his own reflection, the dark shape of his head thrust out over a space of water. He began to see more deeply down among the reed beds, moving a little upstream, still upon his knees. Then he saw Jesse.

He knew the terrible thing that he saw was Jesse because — how could he doubt it — this was where Jesse himself had told him to look. Also, strangely floating up almost to the surface, was a pale bloated hand with a ruby-red ring upon it. What was below was darker, a rounded bundle trussed in tangles of weeds. Obeying an instant compulsion Edward reached down and touched the hand. It was soft and very cold. He touched the ring and then, still as in obedience, he drew it off. It came away smoothly with ease, and he put it on the middle finger of his left hand which he only now remembered was where Jesse had worn it. Then he staggered up, turned away and tried unsuccessfully to vomit. His sounds of woe broke what had seemed a silence but was now full of the song of birds. He sat down in the grass with his back to the river, holding his head in his hands. Then he got up and went back and leaned out over the reed bed. It was still there. He could now see the hump of the shoulders, the big head bent forward, some hair moving in the water. Tears streamed down Edward’s face and he began to sob, standing there leaning over the edge of the bank. His tears fell among the reeds and into the river. He sobbed loudly for some time, uttering his dreadful anguish as a cry for help. But of course there was no one there to hear him. What should he do, what was he going to do, he now at last wondered. Should he attempt to pull the drowned body out, could he do so? Forcing himself against a sickening repugnance he knelt again and leaning down felt for the humped shoulders and tried to take hold. As his hands slipped over muddy textile and touched flesh he had an instant fear that the dead man might suddenly grip him and pull him in. He felt the weight but could not move what he now saw to be deeply embedded in tangled reed stems and roots and water weed. He would have to get down into the river and unwind … He could not do it. Besides, if he set the thing free it might be instantly taken from him by the force of the stream and swept away into the sea.

As he sat back again on the grass and blinked his eyes against the light he wondered:
is this too an illusion?
He stood up and shook his body like a dog, pinched his hand and his arm, and looked all about him at the empty landscape, at the open mouth of the river, at the configuration of willows, at the broken stone stump of the railway bridge. Then he looked down carefully, observing his perceptions and his state of mind. This was certainly no dream, it felt quite unlike the other occasion. But did not this prove the other real, that other vision when Jesse had seemed to look up at him through the water and smile? Or could
that
perhaps somehow prove that
this
was unreal? It’s certainly not unreal, thought Edward. As for the other — perhaps I’ll never be certain — I mustn’t think about it now. Then he turned about sharply, with a sudden impression that there was someone standing behind him. But the fen was flat and empty as before.

He noticed that he had stopped crying but his face was all wet with tears. He mopped it with the back of his hand. He thought, I must go to Seegard and tell them. Oh God how awful. Then he thought, but suppose when I bring them back there is nothing there? Supposing it all happens over again? I should go raving mad, I should hurl myself into the sea, I should start swimming and swimming looking for Jesse. He put his hand over his mouth and turned away. He thought, anyway I’ll mark the spot. He had thrown his jacket down on the bank. He picked it up and mounted it like a little scarecrow upon a stick, conspicuous above the grass. Then he set off following the river inland and was soon able to see, closer than he had expected, the tower of Seegard and the high roof of the barn. At the same moment he caught sight of a figure, a man, coming towards him, a tall man with a beard. Edward said to himself, it’s Jesse, it
must
be, it was an hallucination after all, a second one … But this idea lasted for a second, and he recognised, now near to him, one of the tree men, the one who had brought him Brownie’s letters. Edward thought, I won’t say anything. Then he thought, people might suspect me, that man will see my marker and —

Edward said to the man, ‘I’ve just found the body of Jesse Baltram, he’s drowned, he’s in the reeds, down therejust beyond the old railway bridge, I’ve left my jacket on a stick — ’

‘The guv’nor? Are you sure it’s him? Is he drowned then? I thought he might be when we heard he’d gone.’

‘Why did you think that?’ said Edward.

‘That’d be just like him, that’d be the way he’d choose to take himself off. I’ll go and have a look at him. Are you going to tell them up at the house?’ The man seemed pleased and excited.

‘It was an accident,’ said Edward.

By the time he reached the main door of Seegard the sky had become overcast. The tower was surrounded by screaming swifts. He opened the door and entered the Atrium which was huge and dark and felt chilly after the warmth outside. He remembered how it had looked to him then, on his first evening, and for a moment he seemed to forget or not believe what he now knew and had come to tell. Oh let it be over soon, he thought, let it be over soon — whatever it is that is now at once to come. He called out. Only when he had called did he hear what he had said. ‘Ilona!’ Silence. He walked across the slates which were cold and felt damp and sticky underfoot, and opened the Transition door. ‘Hello!’ No one. He thought, can they all have
gone?
He walked back to the Interfectory door. The room was empty. He thought, there’s no fire burning, then he thought why should there be, it’s summer now. The news he had to bring was eating him like a fox. He went to the tower door expecting it to be locked, but it opened and he went into the large downstairs ‘exhibition room’ where there was a subdued but very lucid light. The room was intensely quiet. He was about to call out again when he saw that two people were standing on the other side of it gazing at him, Bettina and Mother May. The canvases had been moved about, some propped against the wall.

‘Hello, Edward,’ said Mother May, ‘we’re checking our catalogue of the pictures. You’re just in time to help us: Are you all right? We’re so glad to see you, aren’t we, Bettina? We wondered when you’d come back.’

As Edward came towards them he felt his throat closing up, as in dreams when one tries to articulate but cannot. He sat down on a chair close to them.

‘What’s the matter, Edward?’ said Bettina. Their repetition of his name sounded menacing. They stood looking down at him with curiosity.

Edward had automatically opened the buttons of his shirt and passed his hand over his throat and chest. He had run most of the way from the river and had been panting and sweating. He felt now as if, since he had entered the house, he had been holding his breath. He took long deep breaths, shivering with emotion.

‘Edward, what
is
it?’ said Mother May, but she sounded more curious than anxious.

‘Jesse,’ said Edward.

‘What?’

‘He’s dead, drowned.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Bettina.

Edward thought, do they know, have they always known? ‘I found his body down by the estuary, caught in the reeds. He’s dead.’

Mother May and Bettina looked at each other. Bettina said, ‘Let’s move out of here, shall we?’ It sounded like a suggestion to adjourn for coffee.

The two women moved towards the door. Edward, gasping for breath, and idiotically carrying his chair, followed. He left the chair at the doorway. Bettina stood aside to let him pass into the Interfectory. Then she quietly closed the door, locked it, and replaced the key on the chimneypiece. Edward sat in an armchair, then pulled himself up again, the two women sat, he stood by the fireplace.

‘Now what is all this?’ said Mother May severely. ‘Do calm down.’ Today she and Bettina had their hair done in identical styles, every pin matching, the long heavy hair bunched in a long neat bun suspended upon the back of the head, showing the neck at the back. They were wearing their day dresses and long blue aprons. They stared at him with their similar youthful faces.

‘He’s dead,’ said Edward. ‘I saw him. I saw his body down near the mouth of the river. If you come I’ll show you. This time it’s not a dream.’ Of course it wasn’t last time either, he thought or was it, what did I decide? Oh let them start
believing
me.

‘You are not yourself, Edward,’ said Mother May, ‘please talk to us more quietly. Have you eaten today? Did you have any lunch? Bettina will set out something for you.’ Bettina did not move however.

Edward was thinking, why on earth did I tell the tree man? Now if he’s
gone
I’ll never know and I’ll go mad. The tree man might want him not to be found, he might think someone would
blame.him
. He said, ‘If you will come I will show you. But hadn’t we better ring up — oh of course we can’t — tell the police, get an ambulance — ’ Oh God, he thought, what’s the use of an ambulance, am I not sure he’s dead, or was that last time? He said, ‘It’s true, it’s
true,
he’s
dead,
why do
torture
me by
pretending
!’

‘We aren’t pretending,’ said Bettina.

‘Where’s Ilona? She’ll believe me.’

‘Don’t talk so fast, Edward,’ said Mother May, ‘it’s not easy to hear what you’re saying.’

‘Where do you think he is then, if he’s not dead and not in the river?’

‘What an odd question. We don’t know where he is and I think you don’t either — ’

‘I saw himjust now with my own eyes, I
touehed
him, look, look!’ Edward thrust forward his left hand displaying the ruby ring.