This Rough Magic (25 page)

‘Oh heavens, yes, I’d forgotten. He’s pining to hear all about last night at first hand, I gather. I told him I’d be out to lunch, or I’d have asked him over, but I think he was going to ask you to lunch with him.’ She paused, a hand on the door. ‘There’s the phone now, that’ll be him. What shall I tell him?’

I reached for my stockings, and sat down to pull them on. The action covered some rapid thinking.

Godfrey would obviously be very curious to know what had passed at the Castello last night – what Sir Julian had told us, and what Max’s reactions had been. If I could put him off till tomorrow, I might use this curiosity to keep him out of Max’s way.

I said: ‘Say I’m in the bathroom or something, and can’t come to the phone now, and tell him I’m going out with you, and I don’t know when I’ll be in, but I’ll ring him … No, he can ring me. Some time tonight.’

Phyl raised an eyebrow. ‘Hard to get, huh? All right. Then you are coming with me?’

‘No, I’ll never make it, thanks all the same. I’ll laze around and go down to the beach later.’

‘Okay,’ said my sister amiably, and went to silence the telephone.

I had no intention of going down to the beach, as it happened, it being more than likely that Godfrey would see me there and come down. But I did want to go over to the Castello to find out if Max and Spiro had got safely away. I hesitated to use the party telephone, and in any case I doubted if Sir Julian would want to talk to me this morning, but I had hopes of finding Adoni about in the garden, and of seeing him alone.

So I ate my cold luncheon early, and rather hurriedly, then, telling Miranda that I was going down to the beach for the afternoon, went to my room for my things.

But she was waiting for me in the hall as I came out, with a small package in her hand.

‘For me?’ I said. ‘What is it?’

‘Adoni just brought it. It’s some things you left there last night.’

I took it from her. Through the paper I could feel the small hard shapes of Phyl’s lipstick and powder-box. ‘Oh, that’s good of him. I was thinking I’d have to go across to collect them. Is he still here?’

‘No, miss, he wouldn’t stay. But I was to say to you that all was well.’

There was just the faintest lift of curiosity in her voice. I noticed then how bright her eyes were, and that the flush was back in her cheeks, and for a moment I wondered if Adoni had given her some hint of the truth.

‘I’m glad of that. Did he tell you about the adventure we had last night?’

‘The dolphin? Yes, he told me. It must have been strange.’ The strangest thing to her Greek mind was, I could see, that anyone should have gone to that amount of trouble. ‘But your coat, Miss Lucy! I don’t know if it will ever come right!’

I laughed. ‘It did get rather a beating, didn’t it? I thought you’d be wondering what I’d been doing.’

‘I knew you must have fallen in the sea, because of your dress and coat … and the bathroom,
po po po
. I have washed the dress, but the coat must go to a proper cleaner.’

‘Oh, goodness, yes, you mustn’t bother with it. Thanks very much for doing the dress, Miranda. Well, when you see Adoni, will you thank him for bringing these things? And for the message. That was all, that all was well?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s fine,’ I said heartily. ‘I did wonder. Sir Julian wasn’t feeling well last night, and I was worried.’

She nodded. ‘He will be all right this morning.’

I stared for a moment, then realised that she knew exactly what my careful meiosis meant, and was untroubled by it. The Greek mind again; if a man chose to get drunk now and again, what did it matter except to himself? His women would accept it as they accepted all else. Life here had its shining simplicities.

‘I’m very glad,’ I said, and went out towards the pine woods.

As soon as I was out of sight of the house I left the path, and climbed higher through the woods, where the trees thinned, and a few scattered pines stood on top of
the promontory. I spread my rug in the shade, and lay down. The ground was felted with pine needles, and here and there grew soft furry leaves of ground ivy, and the pretty, dull-pink orchids, and lilac irises flecked with white. The Castello was hidden from view by its trees, but from this height I could just see, on the southern headland, the roof of the Villa Rotha. The Forli house was visible below me. In the distance, beyond the sparkling sea, lay the mountains of Epirus. Their snow had almost gone, but further north the Albanian peaks still gleamed white. There, beneath them, would be the rocks where Spiro had gone ashore, and where Max had brought him off under the coastguards’ guns. And there, a coloured cluster under the violet hills of Epirus, was Igoumenitsa, where the ferry ran …

I had brought a book, but couldn’t read, and it was not long before I saw what I had been expecting: Godfrey, coming with an air of purpose along the path round the headland. He didn’t descend into the bay; just stood there, as if looking for someone who might have been on the beach or in the sea. He waited a little while, and I thought at one point that he was going to cross the sand and climb to the Forli house, but he didn’t. He hung around for a few minutes more, then turned and went back.

Some time later my eye was caught by a glimpse of moving white, a glint beyond the treetops that rimmed the sea; and presently a boat stole out under sail from beyond the further headland, cutting a curved path of white through the glittering blue.

I lay, chin on hand, watching her.

She was not unlike a boat that Leo had owned some years back, and on which I had spent a holiday one summer, the year I had left school. She was a powered sloop, perhaps thirty feet overall, Bermuda rigged, with – as far as I could make out – a mast that could be lowered. That this was so seemed probable, since from something Godfrey had said I assumed she was Dutch built, so might presumably be adapted for canal cruising, and negotiating low bridges. In any case I had gathered last night that she was customarily moored not in the bay, but in the boat-house; and even if this was built on the same lavish scale as the Castello, and designed to house several craft, it would have to be a vast place indeed to take the sloop’s forty-odd-foot mast. Her hull was sea-grey, with a white line at the bows. She was a lovely craft, and at any other time I would have lain dreamily admiring her sleek lines and the beauty of her canvas, but today I merely wondered about her speed – seven or eight knots, I supposed – and narrowed my eyes to watch the small black figure at the tiller, which was Godfrey.

The sea raced glittering along the grey hull (grey for camouflage?); the white wake creamed; she turned, beautiful, between me and the sun, and I could see no more of her except as a winged shape heading in a long tack out to sea, and then south, towards Corfu town.

‘Lucy?’ said the telephone.

‘Yes. Hullo. You’re very faint.’

‘Did you get the message from Adoni?’

‘Yes. Just that all was well, so I assumed you’d got away safely. I hope it still is?’

‘So far, a bit discouraging, but I’m still hoping. What about you?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, and all’s well here. Calm and normal, as far as I can see. Don’t worry about this end.’

‘Ah.’ A slight pause. Though I knew there was no one else in the house, I found myself glancing quickly around me. Max’s voice said, distant in my ear: ‘You know this libretto I came over here to discuss with that friend of mine? We’ve been talking over the story all afternoon now, and he’s not very keen on it. Says it’s not plausible. I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to persuade him to do much about it.’

‘I get it,’ I said, ‘but look this line’s all right. My sister’s out, and so is the other party on the line; I saw his boat go out, with him in it, quite a bit ago, and it’s not back yet. I’ve been watching till now. You can say what you like.’

‘Well, I’m not sure how good their English is at the Corfu Exchange,’ said Max, ‘but you’ll have gathered it’s not very good news in any language. We’ve been with the police all afternoon, and they’ve listened civilly enough, but they’re not inclined to take it all that seriously – certainly not to take action against our friend without some solid proof.’

‘If he were to be watched—?’

‘They’re inclined to think it’s not worth it. The general idea is that it’s only another spot of illegal trading, and no one’s prepared to take it seriously enough to spend money on investigating.’

‘Don’t they believe the boy’s story, then?’

He hesitated. ‘I can’t quite make that out. I don’t think they do. They think he may be mistaken, and they’re favouring the idea of an accident.’

‘A nice, trouble-free verdict,’ I said dryly. ‘And was Y’s death an accident, too?’

‘They’re inclined to stick to the first verdict there as well. The trouble is, you see, they’re furious with me over last night’s little effort, which I’ve had to tell them about, and which might have started some trouble. The Greek-Albanian frontier’s always like a train of dynamite with a slow fuse crawling up to it. Oh, they did admit in the end that I could hardly have called the police in on a rendezvous with Milo and his pal, but I did also withhold evidence in the inquiry on Y.Z. after they’d been so helpful to Father and myself over Spiro … I must say I rather see their point, but my name’s mud for the moment, and they’re simply not prepared to take action on my say-so, especially if it means coming in over the heads of the local coppers. You see, there’s no possible motive.’

‘But if it was … “illegal trading”?’

‘That would hardly have led to murder. As we know, it’s barely even taken seriously from this side of the border.’

‘I see.’

‘So they look like accepting accident on both counts. And, of course, damn it, we can’t prove a thing. I simply don’t know what’s going to happen.’

‘Can you bring him back – the boy?’

‘I don’t know that either. As far as the hospital’s
concerned it’s all right, but as to whether it’s safe for him … If only one could find even some shred of an idea why it happened, let alone proof that it did … If I didn’t know the boy so well, and if it weren’t for Y’s death, I’d take the same attitude as the police, I can tell you that. You were right last night when you said it was incredible. In the cold light of day the idea’s fantastic – but still my bones tell me it’s true … Ah, well. I’m going to talk to them again later tonight, and there’s still tomorrow. We may get something done yet.’

‘When will you come back?’

‘Tomorrow. I’ll try to manage the earlier time I gave you.’

‘All right. I’m fairly sure I can have that under control. You won’t be met.’

‘Well, that’s one load off my mind.’ I heard him laugh. ‘We managed fine on the way out, but the hospital’s fitted a wonderful new cast that won’t go in the boot, so it’s the back seat and a rug – and a damned awkward situation if anyone were hanging about. Will it be hard to arrange?’

‘Dead easy – I think. I’m not sure which is the spider and which is the fly, but I don’t think I’ll even have to try.’

‘Well, for pity’s sake watch your step.’

‘Don’t worry, he’ll get nothing out of me. I may be a darned bad actress on the stage, but off it I’m terrific.’

He laughed again. ‘Who’s telling whom? But that’s not what I meant.’

‘I know. It’s all right, I’ll be careful.’

I heard him take a long breath. ‘I feel better now. I’ll
go and tackle this bunch of very nice but all too sensible policemen again. I must go. Bless you. Take care of yourself.’

‘And you,’ I said.

The receiver at the other end was cradled, and through the wire washed the crackling hiss of the miles of sea and air that lay between us. As I put my own receiver down gently, I found that I was staring out of the long glass pane of the door that led to the terrace. It framed an oblong of the empty evening sky, dusk, with one burning planet among a trail of dusty stars. I sat for a few minutes without moving, one hand still on the receiver, not thinking of anything, just watching that bright planet, and feeling in me all tensions stilled at once, as if someone had laid a finger across a thrumming string.

When the telephone rang again, right under my hand, I hardly even jumped. I sat back in the chair and put the receiver to my ear.

‘Yes?’ I said. ‘Oh, hullo, Godfrey. Yes, it’s Lucy. In Corfu, are you? No, I’ve been home a little while. I was wondering when you’d ring …’

He’s safe for these three hours
.

III
. 1.

He called for me next day immediately after lunch. He had suggested that I lunch with him, and certainly he had sounded flatteringly anxious for my company, but since I didn’t imagine he really wanted anything from me but information, and I had no idea how long I could hold him, I pleaded an engagement for lunch, but allowed myself to be suitably eager for a drive in the afternoon.

I even managed to suggest the route. Not that there was much choice in the matter; the road north was barely navigable by a car one cared about, so I could hardly suggest that Godfrey took it. We would have to go south on the road by which Max and Spiro would eventually be driving home, but there was, happily, a road leading off this to Palaiokastritsa, a famous beauty-spot on the western coast which I could be legitimately anxious to visit. It was in fact true that I had looked the place up on the map, but had put off going there because the road seemed mountainous and I had been slightly nervous of tackling it in Phyl’s little
car. With me driving (I told Godfrey) it would be nerve-racking, and with Phyl driving it would be suicide … But if Godfrey would drive me, and if he had a car that would manage the gradients …

He had laughed, sounding pleased, and had professed himself delighted to brave any gradients I wished, and yes, he had a car that would manage it quite easily …

He certainly had. It was a black XK 150, blunt-nosed, powerful, and about as accommodating on the narrow roads as a bull seal on his own bit of beach. It nosed its way impatiently along the drive, humming like a hive of killer bees, bucked on to the rutted sweep of the Castello’s private road, and turned to swoop down to the gate where Maria’s cottage stood.