The Bell - Iris Murdoch [122]
'That's correct, 'said Noel. 'Mr Holroyd got wind of this picturesque ceremony and sent me along. He sends you his greetings, sir.'
'An excellent fellow,' said the Bishop, 'in the best traditions of British journalism. I have always thought the Church was foolish to shun publicity. What we need is more publicity, of the right kind, of course. Perhaps I may say of this kind. What's that? No, I won't eat anything now, thank you. I'll just have the good old English cup of tea, if I may. Since my trip to America I value it more than ever. Then we might proceed perhaps to our little service, if the clans have mustered? And have the feasting afterwards. I see a board or two groaning with goodies in there.'
Michael and Paul had stopped again, just below the steps to the terrace, still talking. They began to walk back towards the causeway: Mrs Mark watched them with a look of despair, Dora with one of appalled apprehension. The Bishop was given a cup of tea. Noel chatted to him affably about members of the Athenaeum known to both of them. James stood beside them, smiling and rather shy. Father Bob Joyce, bearing with undignified haste what later turned out to be a stoup of holy water, placed it upon the table, and fussed round the bell, waving to the great man with the distant familiarity of one of the elect determined to let lesser men have their chance to be presented. Mrs Mark made little dashes into the refectory, keeping one eye on Michael, and keeping up an agitated discussion with Father Bob. Peter Topglass arrived with his camera, and joined the conversation with the Bishop, with whom it appeared he was already acquainted. Dora stood gloomily picking at one of the white ribbons on the bell. Her nervous plucking undid the tacking threads and the ribbon streamed out in the wind, which had not abated. Toby emerged, looking sulky, from the stable yard and was seized by Mrs Mark and introduced. James asked Mrs Mark for a cup of tea and was told in a whisper that they had better not start using the cups now as there were only just enough to go round once and no time to wash them up after the service. Patchway appeared and started complaining to James about the depredations of the pigeons until called to order by Mrs Mark and told to remove his hat. Catherine came-down the steps from the house. She was wearing one of her London dresses and seemed to have taken some trouble with her appearance. A neat tight bun was fixed high at the back of her head and the curly locks which usually straggled over her brow had been cut short. Her face now seemed abnormally long and pale, and her smile, when she was presented to the Bishop, though sweet, was brief. She stepped quickly back and leaned against the balustrade, seeming to fall into a reverie, forgetting where she was.
'Well, dear friends,' said the Bishop, 'perhaps we could begin our little baptism ceremony. I gather you approved of my suggestions about the order of the service. I'm glad you didn't think I was being too archaic and popish I I think we might end with psalm a hundred and fifty, by the way. And I propose to leave out the Collect. I must say, I don't trust this sky not to pepper us with hailstones at any moment - so let us proceed at once. As my unfortunate congregation will have to kneel I suggest we descend from the gravel to the grass. I'm afraid my leech has prohibited genuflexion for me TFO, as we used to say in the army. Might I ask which of you are going to act as sponsors, or shall I say godparents, to the bell?'
'That will be Michael and Catherine,' said Mrs Mark. 'Please excuse me one moment and I'll fetch Michael.' She ran down the steps from the terrace.
Michael and Paul, still deep in conversation, were now walking back again from the causeway. Dora watched them anxiously. She avoided looking at Noel who was trying to catch her eye. They all descended the steps and stood about on the slope that led down to the ferry.
Mrs Mark was coming back with Michael and Paul. Dora disposed