This Rough Magic (16 page)

‘I suppose you ought to be helping Adoni to carry home the fish? Or would it be more correct to call it “the catch”?’

That got through. You’d have thought I’d hit him. He made a sudden movement, not towards me, but I felt my muscles tighten, and I think I even backed a pace. I wondered why I had ever thought him a subdued edition of his father. And, quite suddenly, I was scared.

I spoke quickly: ‘You needn’t worry. I don’t mean to give you away! Why should I? It’s nothing to me, but you must see it’s awful to be in the middle of something and now know just what’s going on! Oh, yes, I know about it, it was obvious enough. But I’ll not say anything – I think too much of Miranda and her mother, and, if it comes to that, of your father, to drag the police back here with a lot more questions. Why should I care what you’ve got yourself into? But I
do
care about Adoni … Did you know he’s going to marry Miranda? Why did you have to involve him in this? Hasn’t there been enough trouble?’

After that first, uncontrollable start, he had listened without movement or comment, but I could see his eyes on me, narrow and intent in the dim light. Now he said, very quietly: ‘Just what are you talking about?’

‘You know quite well. I suppose poor Yanni never got the job done last night, so you’ve been across there tonight, to the Albanian coast, to do it yourself. Am I right?’

‘Where did you get this … fantasy?’

‘Fantasy, nothing,’ I said roundly. ‘Godfrey Manning told me this morning.’

‘
What
?’ If I had got through before, this was straight between the joints of the harness. The word alone sent me back another pace, and this time he followed. I felt my back come up against a tree, and turned aside blindly – I think to run away – but his hand shot out and took my wrist, not hard, but in a grip I couldn’t have broken without struggling, and probably not even then. ‘Manning?
He
told you?’

‘Let me go!’

‘No, wait a minute. I’m not going to hurt you, don’t be scared … But you’ve got to tell me. What did Manning say to you?’

‘Let me go, please!’

He dropped the wrist immediately. I rubbed it, though it was not in the least hurt. But I was shaking now. Something had happened that had changed the whole pitch of the scene; in place of the slightly pleasurable bitchiness of the previous exchange, there was now something urgent, hard, and yes, threatening. And it was Godfrey’s name that had done it.

Gale repeated: ‘What did he tell you?’

‘About Yanni? That he was a smuggler, and that he would probably have a “contact” or whatever you call it, who’d get his supplies for him, and that he hoped the police wouldn’t tumble to it, because Spiro had been in it too, and it would hurt Maria if it came out.’

‘That was all?’

‘Yes.’

‘When did he tell you all this?’

‘This morning, at the point, before you came down.’

‘Ah.’ I heard his breath go out. ‘Then you weren’t up at Manning’s house just now?’

‘Of course I wasn’t! Have you any idea what time it is?’

‘I – of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I wasn’t trying to be offensive. Did Manning tell you that I was Yanni’s “contact”?’

‘No. I worked that out for myself.’

‘You did? How?’

I hesitated. The feeling of fear had gone, and common sense had come back to tell me that I was in no danger. Smuggler or not, he would hardly murder me for this. I said: ‘I saw Yanni coming up to the Castello last night.’

‘I … see.’ I could almost feel the amazement, the rapid reassessment of the situation. ‘But you said nothing to the police.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

I said carefully: ‘I’m not quite sure. To begin with, I kept quiet because I thought I might be mistaken, and
Yanni possibly hadn’t been going up to the Castello at all. If I’d thought you’d had anything to do with his death, I’d have told straight away. Then later I realised that there
was
some connection between you and Yanni, and that you’d known he was going out last night.’

‘How?’

‘Because you weren’t surprised when you heard he’d been drowned—’

‘You noticed that, did you? My mistake. Go on.’

‘But you
were
shocked. I saw that.’

‘You see a darned sight too much.’ He sounded grim. ‘Was that what made you decide I hadn’t killed him?’

‘Good heavens, no! It wouldn’t have occurred to me that you’d killed him! If I’d thought it was anything but an accident, I’d have told the whole thing straight away! It–it wasn’t, was it?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. Go on. What else did you see?’

‘I saw you go back to the body, and have another look at it.’

‘Did you, by God? From the path? Careless of me, I thought I was out of view. Who else saw that?’

‘Nobody.’

‘You’re sure of that?’

‘Pretty well.’

‘And you said nothing about that, either? Well, well. So it was entirely your own idea that I was smuggling along with Yanni?’

‘Yes.’

‘And now you’ve found out for certain. Do you still propose to say nothing?’

I said, without challenge, but out of simple curiosity: ‘How would you make sure of it?’

He said, equally simply: ‘My dear, I couldn’t begin to try. I can only tell you that it’s urgent that nobody should know I’ve been out tonight, nobody at all, and beg you to keep quiet.’

‘Then don’t worry. I will.’

There was a short pause. ‘As easy as that?’ he said, in an odd tone.

‘I told you – for your father’s sake,’ I said, perhaps a little too quickly, ‘and for Maria’s. The only thing is—’

‘Yes?’

‘Things go in threes, they say, and if anything should happen to Adoni—’

He laughed. ‘Nothing shall, I promise you! I couldn’t take the responsibility for damaging a work of art like Adoni! We-ell …’ There was a whole world of relief in the long-drawn syllable. Then his voice changed; it was brisk, easy, normal. ‘I mustn’t keep you any more. Heaven knows what the time is, and you must get home with that treasure trove of yours. I’m sorry I missed it this morning, and gave your sister a bad half-hour … And I’m sorry I frightened you just now. To say that I’m grateful is the understatement of the year. You’ll let me see you home?’

‘There’s no need, really, thank you. In any case, hadn’t you better get up there to help Adoni?’

‘He’s all right. Didn’t you hear the signal?’

‘Signal? But there hasn’t been—’ I stopped as I saw
him smile. ‘Not the owls? No, really, how corny can you get! Was that really Adoni?’

He laughed. ‘It was. The robber’s mate is home and dry, complete with “catch”. So come along now, I’ll take you home.’

‘No, really, I—’

‘Please. After all, these woods are pretty dark and you were nervous, weren’t you?’

‘Nervous? No, of course not!’

He looked down in surprise. ‘Then what in the world were you racing back like that for?’

‘Because I—’ I stopped dead. The dolphin. I had forgotten the dolphin. The breeze, riffling the treetops, breathed gooseflesh along my skin. I thought of the dolphin, drying in it, back there on the beach. I said quickly: ‘It was so late, and Phyl was worrying. Don’t bother, please, I’ll go alone. Good night.’

But as I reached the tunnel of trees, he caught me up. ‘I’d sooner see you safely home. Besides, you were quite right about shifting the boat; I’d rather have her nearer to hand in the morning. I’ll take her across into the lee of the pines.’

For the life of me, I couldn’t suppress a jerk of apprehension. He felt it, and stopped.

‘Just a minute.’

His hand was on my arm. I turned. It was very dark under the trees.

He said: ‘You’ve found out more about me than is quite comfortable. It’s time you were a little bit honest about yourself, I think. Did you meet anyone down in the bay?’

‘No.’

‘See anyone?’

‘N-no.’

‘Quite sure? This is important.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why don’t you want me to go down there?’

I said nothing. My throat was stiff and dry as cardboard. Tears of strain, fear, and exhaustion were not very far away.

‘Look,’ he said, urgently and not unkindly, ‘I have to know. Some day I’ll tell you why. Damn it, I’ve got to trust
you
; what about your trusting me for a change? Something did happen down there to scare you, didn’t it? It sent you running up here like a hare in front of a gun. Now, what was it? Either you tell me what it was, or I go down and look for myself. Well?’

I threw in my cards. I said shakily: ‘It was the dolphin.’

‘The dolphin?’ he echoed, blankly.

‘It’s in the bay.’

There was a pause, then he said, with a sharpness that was part exasperation, part relief: ‘And am I supposed to be going down there to shoot it in the middle of the night? I told you before that I’d never touched the beast!’ He added, more kindly: ‘Look, you’ve had a grim sort of day, and you’re frightened and upset. Nobody’s going to hurt your dolphin, so dry your eyes, and I’ll take you back home now. He can look after himself, you know.’

‘He can’t. He’s on the beach.’

‘He’s what?’

‘He’s stranded. He can’t get away.’

‘Well, my God, you don’t
still
think I’d do him any harm—?’ He stopped, and seemed for the first time to take in what I had been telling him. ‘
Stranded
? You mean the creature’s actually beached?’

‘Yes. High and dry. He’ll die. I’ve been trying and trying to move him, and I can’t. I was running just now to get a rope, that’s why I was hurrying. If he’s out of water too long the wind’ll dry him, and he’ll die. And all this time we’ve been wasting—’

‘Where is he?’

‘The other side, under the pines. What are you – oh!’ This was an involuntary cry as his hand tightened on my arm and swung me round. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Don’t worry, this isn’t another assault. Now listen, there’s a rope in my boat. I’ll go down and get it, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Get away back to your dolphin now, and wait for me. Can you keep him going another twenty minutes? Good. We’ll manage him between us, don’t worry. But’ – a slight pause – ‘be very quiet, do you mind?’

Before I could reply, he was gone, and I heard him making a swift but still stealthy way back the way he had come.

To the elements
Be free, and fare thou well
.

V
. 1.

T
HERE
was no time for doubt or questioning. That could come later. I obeyed him, flying back down the path to the beach, back across the pale sand to where the big bulk still lay motionless.

The dark eye watched. He was alive. I whispered: ‘It’s all right now, he’s coming,’ and went straight back to my scooping and tipping of sea-water. If I noticed that I hadn’t bothered, even in my thoughts, to specify the ‘he’, that was another question that could wait till later.

He came, sooner than I had expected. A small motor-boat came nosing round the bay, without her engine, just with a dip and splash of oars as she was poled gently along. The breeze and the lapping of the sea on the rocks covered all sound until the boat was a rocking shadow within yards of me. I saw him stand up then, and lever it nearer the shore. Timber grated gently on rock, and he stepped out, making fast to a young pine, and then he was beside me on the sand, with a coil of rope over his arm.

‘Good God. How did he get out here?’

‘They do,’ I said, ‘I’ve read about it. Sometimes a storm blows them in, but sometimes they get their radar-beams fogged up, or something, and they come in at a fast lick and before they know where they are, they’re high and dry. We’re lucky there’s only a foot or so of tide, or the water might have been miles away from him by now. Can you move him, d’you think?’

‘I can try.’ He stooped over the animal. ‘Trouble is, you can’t really get a hold. Didn’t you have a torch?’

‘I dropped it when you savaged me up in the wood.’

‘So you did. There’s one in the boat – no, perhaps not, we’ll do without. Now, can you get to his other side?’

Together we fought to grasp and lift the dolphin, and with some success, for we did drag and shove him a foot or so downshore. But the dolphin himself defeated us; frightened, possibly, of the man’s presence, or hurt by our tugging and by the friction of sand and pebbles, he began to struggle, spasmodically but violently; and at the end of the first strenuous minutes we had gained only a foot. I was exhausted, and Max Gale was breathing very hard.

‘No good.’ He stood back. ‘He weighs a ton, and it’s like trying to get hold of an outsize greased bomb. It’ll have to be the rope. Won’t it hurt him?’

‘I don’t know, but we’ll have to try it. He’ll die if he stays here.’

‘True enough. All right, help me get it round the narrow bit above the tail.’

The dolphin lay like a log, his eye turning slowly
back to watch us as we bent to tackle the tail-rope. Without the torch it was impossible to tell, but I had begun to imagine that the eye wasn’t so bright or watchful now. The tail felt heavy and cold, like something already dead. He never flickered a muscle as we fought to lift and put a loop round it.

‘He’s dying,’ I said, on a sort of gulp. ‘That fight must have finished him.’ I dashed the back of my hand over my eyes, and bent to the job. The rope was damp, and horrible to handle, and the dolphin’s tail was covered with coarse sand.

‘You do tear yourself up rather, don’t you?’

I looked up at him as he worked over the loop. His tone was not ungentle, but I got the impression from it that half his mind was elsewhere: he cared nothing for the dolphin, but wanted merely to get this over, and get back himself to whatever his own queer and shady night’s work had been.

Well, fair enough. It was good of him to have come at all. But some old instinct of defensiveness made me say a little bitterly:

‘It seems to me you can be awfully happy in this life if you stand aside and watch and mind your own business, and let other people do as they like about damaging themselves and each other. You go on kidding yourself that you’re impartial and tolerant and all that, then all of a sudden you realise you’re dead, and you’ve never been alive at all. Being alive hurts.’