The Bell - Iris Murdoch [121]
Paul turned on her. He detached her hand from his with the other hand, and said to her quietly but baring his teeth, 'There are moments when I hate you!' Then he gave her a push which sent her flying back into the long grass.
Paul went on running. Michael converged on him, his arms spread out like someone who wants to prevent an animal from charging out of a field. Dora got up from where she had fallen in the grass, found her shoe which had come off, and began to run too in the direction of the terrace. The Bishop's car was just approaching the house. She passed Michael and Paul who had now met and came to a standstill. They both seemed to be talking at once. Dora did not think they needed her assistance.
The Rolls Royce came onto the terrace with the dignified condescension of a very large car moving slowly. It stopped at the foot of the steps, quite near to the bell. Mrs Mark, who had after all been left to hold the fort alone, rushed forward. James appeared a moment later on the balcony and began to hurry down the steps, falling over his feet. Noel lounged out of the refectory, eating a bun. Dora arrived panting and had to double up immediately because of an agonizing stitch.
The Bishop, who had apparently been driving himself, got slowly out of the car with the affable leisureliness of the great personage who knows that whenever and wherever he arrives he is immediately the centre of the scene. He was a big portly man with frizzy hair and rimless glasses, dressed in a plain black cassock and purple stock. His large fleshy face turned slowly, glowing with friendliness. He pulled a stick out of the car on which he leaned lightly while shaking hands with Mrs Mark, James, and Noel, and then with Dora, whom he was anxious not to exclude although she was hovering uncertainly in the background. Dora decided he took her for one of the maids.
'Well, here I am!' said the Bishop. 'I hope I'm not late? My charming chauffeur has abandoned me - a lady, I hasten to say, and also my secretary. The exigencies of motherhood called her to a higher task. She has three children to look after, that is not counting myself! So at much wear and tear to my own nerves and those of my fellow motorists I have driven myself to Imber!'
'We're so glad you've managed to come, sir,' said James, beaming. 'We know how busy you are. It means a lot to us to have you at our little ceremony.'
'Well, I think it's all most exciting,' said the Bishop. 'And is this exhibit A?' He pointed with his stick to the white rib-bony mound of the bell.
'Yes,' said Mrs Mark, blushing with excitement. 'We just thought we'd deck it up a little.'
'Very pretty too,' said the Bishop. 'You are Mrs Strafford I believe? And you are Mr Meade?' he said to James. 'I've heard so much about you from the Abbess, bless her.'
'Oh no,' said James. 'I'm James Tayper Pace.'
'Ah!' said the Bishop. 'You are the man who is so sorely missed in Stepney! I was there only a few weeks ago at the opening of a new youth centre, and your name was often taken in vain. Or rather, not in vain. What an absurd expression that is, to be sure! Your name was mentioned, most fruitfully I've no doubt, and with positively devout enthusiasm!'
It was James's turn to blush. He said, 'We ought to have introduced ourselves. I'm afraid we make you a very poor reception committee, sir. This is indeed Mrs Strafford. This is Mrs Greenfield. Michael Meade is just coming across the grass with Dr Greenfield. And I'm afraid I don't know this gentleman.'
'Noel Spens, from the office of the Daily Record,' said Noel. 'I'm afraid I'm what they call a reporter.'
'Why, splendid!' said the Bishop. 'I hoped some gentlemen of the press might be present. Did you say the Daily Record? You must excuse me, I'm such a deaf old codger now, practically incommunicado on this side. May I ask if you were put on