The Bell - Iris Murdoch [22]
'How does the boat get back,' said Toby, 'after somebody's been across?' He found himself speaking in a low voice.
'There's a painter tied to each end of it,' said Michael, 'and attached to each shore, so that it can be pulled from either side. Here, I'll steady it and you get in.'
Toby stepped into the swaying yielding bottom of the rowing boat and sat down at once. He wanted desperately to be allowed to row, but kept quiet. The enormous night sky full of stars, the shadows of the moon, the great house brooding behind them, the splashing of the water under the boat, filled him with a breathless inarticulate excitement.
Michael stepped in and pushed off vigorously. He took up the single oar which lay across the seats, slipped it into a rowlock at the stern of the boat, and worked it expertly to and fro. The boat veered quietly and began to move, rolling a little, across the surface of the lake, which remained smooth, scarcely rippled at their progress, black and radiantly glossy. Toby let his hand trail in the water. It was warm.
'All right, Toby?' said Michael.
'Yes!' said Toby, answering the vague question with a sudden inexplicit enthusiasm. He saw Michael looking down at him and caught the flash of his smile. Then Michael freed the oar and drew it smoothly along the side of the boat. The other side came bumping neatly against the landing-stage. Toby hopped out and seized his suitcase. Michael followed, and the boat bobbed away a little on the water.
A grassy path led straight ahead of them and Toby could dimly see the avenue of trees beyond. A bird sang harshly beside the lake. It was not a nightingale.
'I hope you don't mind living at the Lodge,' said Michael. 'You'll be with us for all meals and work and so on. I expect James explained to you. It's just for sleeping.'
‘I don't mind a bit,' said Toby. He began to wonder painfully whether he oughtn't to tell Michael that he had overheard the conversation. Perhaps it was dishonest not to. He couldn't decide.
Michael went on. 'I'm sure you'll get on well with Nick Fawley. You may find he's a bit gloomy at times. He's had a difficult life. It'll cheer him up to have a little company, draw him into things a bit.'
'Nick Fawley?' said Toby, surprised.
'Yes, he's Catherine Fawley's brother, her twin brother, in fact. Didn't James tell you? I'm so sorry, we're being very inefficient. You must think we're a proper collection of other-worldly crackpots!'
Toby felt disconcerted, he didn't quite know why, to learn that the man at the Lodge was Catherine's brother. He stole a glance sideways at Michael Meade, but could not see his face. Michael seemed uneasy and embarrassed. Probably he was always rather an awkward man and not easy to get on with like James. Toby felt perplexed. The sense of adventure was gone now and only anxiety remained. He stumbled from the grass on the stony surface of the drive.
'Here we are on the drive,' said Michael. 'You probably remember all this from this afternoon. The avenue of trees from the entrance ends here - it frames the view of the house from the road - but the drive turns away round the end of the lake. It's quite a long walk that way to the house, more than a mile.' They walked on in silence towards the Lodge. Toby saw that a light was shining from one of the windows. A dog began to bark.
'That's Nick's dog, Murphy,' said Michael Meade. 'Murphy is quite a character.' Michael seemed to be nervous.
'I adore dogs,' said Toby inanely, feeling nervous too.
'Nick used to work in aero-dynamics,' said Michael Meade. 'He knows a lot about engines. In fact, he's by way of being our Transport Officer here. You shall be his understudy. I do hope you'll like it here, Toby,' he added, turning to look at the boy as they neared the Lodge. 'We're all so pleased you were able to come.'
They arrived at the porch. There was no knocker, but Michael knocked briskly with his fist on the wood of the door with an imperious echoing sound.