The Bell - Iris Murdoch [118]
'Here's the Bishop!' said Dora, delighted to be able to terminate these rambling admonishments by the news that would throw Mrs Mark finally into a tizzy. A car had swung round out of the avenue and was to be seen speeding along the drive on the other side of the lake.
'Oh dear, oh dear!' said Mrs Mark, not sure whether to go on tacking ribbons or to rush back to take a final glance at the refectory. She dithered in the doorway, took off her overall, threw it under a chair, and then hurried through to call up the stairs to James who didn't appear to be there.
Dora stood by the bell, hands on hips, watching the car as it slowed down to cross the three bridges at the end of the lake. The car looked vaguely familiar. She supposed it was a common make. In the background she could hear Mrs Mark calling, and then moaning that just at the crucial moment everybody had disappeared. Dora watched the car serenely. She carried no responsibility for the success of the ensuing ceremonies, and indeed felt towards them much as Elijah must have felt when watching the efforts of the prophets of Baal.
The car was now coming towards them head on along the last section of the drive leading toward the house. Mrs Mark, still twittering, had emerged again onto the terrace. The car came up the slight slope towards them and stopped about thirty yards away. A figure got out. It was Noel Spens.
Dora's hands dropped to her side. 'Oh good Lord!' she said.
'It's not the Bishop after all!' said Mrs Mark.
'No, it's a friend of mine,' said Dora, 'a journalist. Oh God.' She set off at a run towards Noel.
Noel stood beside the car, one hand on the roof, smiling as if he had just called to take Dora out to dinner. She reached him, slithering to a standstill on the gravel, abrupt and savage as a small bull.
'Go away!' said Dora. 'Go away at once. Get into the car, for God's sake, before someone sees you, and go. I can't think what's possessed you to come here. I told you not to come. You'll ruin everything.'
'What a charming welcome,' said Noel. 'Keep your hair on, darling. I've no intention of going. I've come to do a job of work. I'm going to do a feature on this bell business. Don't you think it's an amusing idea?'
'No, I don't,' said Dora. 'Noel, use your mind. Paul's here. If he sees you he'll think I asked you, and he'll make the most beastly scene. Please, darling, go away. You'll only make awful trouble for me if you don't.'
'Look, sweetie,' said Noel. 'As you know, I usually behave with angelic tolerance where you're concerned. You may even have got it into your head that old uncle Noel doesn't mind what you do. You can just pop over to see him if you want to be consoled and pop off again when it suits you and he'll always be there waiting for you with a gin and martini. Well, that isn't altogether untrue; but somehow just lately I've found this role doesn't suit me quite so well as it used to. I've always acknowledged responsibilities where you are concerned; perhaps I've got some rights too. As you know, I was damn glad to see you the other day; and I was more than somewhat peeved when you cleared off. I don't usually yearn for what is not, I'm not that type. But I did feel I wanted to see you again soon - and I felt a little anxious about your curious state of mind. I thought those nuns might have been getting inside you. Then, oddly enough, my editor who knows the old Bishop who's coming down to bless your bell, got wind of this business quite independently and asked me to come. So I felt that in the circumstances it would be positively frivolous not to!'
'Oh, to hell with all that,' said Dora. 'The point is Paul's here. Can't you get that into your head? For Christ's sake go away before he sees you.'
'I'm fed up with hearing about Paul,' said Noel. 'Paul treats you disgustingly