The Magus - John Fowles [145]
fell into the sea among a litter of boulders and broken rocks. The cliffs curved in a very flat concave arc half a mile eastwards, not really making a bay, but jutting out from the coast just enough to hide the beach where the three cottages were. I examined every yard of the cliffs. No way down, no place where even a small boat could land. Yet this was the area Lily and Rose supposedly headed for when they went "home." There was dense low scrub on the abrupt-sloping clifftops before the pines started, just enough to hide in, but manifestly impossible to live in. That left only one solution. They made their way along the top of the cliffs, then circled inland and down past the cottages. A vein of colder water made me twist on my front again, and as I turned I saw. A girl in a pale pink dress was standing under the seawardest pines on top of the cliff, some hundred yards to the east of where I was; in shadow, but brilliantly, exuberantly conspicuous. She waved down and I waved back. She walked a few yards along the edge of the trees, the sunlight between the pines dappling the pink dress, and then, with an inner leap of exultation, I saw another flash of pink, a second girl. They stood, each replica of each, some twenty yards apart, and the closer waved again. Then both disappeared back together into the trees. Five minutes later I arrived, very out of breath, at the deserted Poseidon statue. I suffered a moment's angry suspicion that I was being teased again--shown them only to lose them. But I went down the far side of the ravine, past the carob; and soon I could see their two pink figures. They were sitting on a shaded hummock of rock and earth, wearing identical summer dresses, loose-topped and longskirted, of some cottony material with thin pink and white, rose and lily, stripes. A glimpse of pale blue stockings. Rose stood as soon as she saw me coming and came idly and Edwardianly down the hummock and a little way towards me. She had her hair up, two curved wings that framed her face and ended in a chignon. I glanced at her wrist, though I was sure. It had no scar. And I glanced beyond her at the girl whose hair was down her back, as loose as on the Sunday morning a fortnight before; who looked so much younger, yet sat and unsmilingly watched us meet. Rose made a face; a modern face that denied her costume. "_Elle est fdch�." She looked round. Lily had presented her back to us, as if in a pique. "I told her you said you didn't care which of us you met this morning." "That was kind of you." She grinned. "Bored of me." "And what have you decided?" She hesitated, then took my hand and led me to the foot of the hummock. Lily must have heard us, hut she would not turn. So Rose led me round the foot of the little knoll until we came into her line of vision. "Here's your knight in shining armour." Lily looked coolly down at me and said, even more coolly, "Hello." Rose, who still held my hand, forced it down. I found myself bowing beside her curtsey. Lily smiled faintly, and said, "Oh June. Stop it." I looked quickly at the girl beside me. "June?" She gave a dip of acknowledgment. I glanced back at Lily. RoseJune said, "That's my twin sister Julie." A jolt of shock: Conchis had already told me this name. I quickly suppressed any sign of surprise. But I was on guard; all prickles erect. Lily-Julie got to her feet. She stood on a ledge of rock a foot or so above us, and looked down at me with a wary unforgivingness. "Who you did _not_ meet last night." Her skin was milky, but her cheeks were red. "I believed it was you." "June, go away." But Rose-June hopped up beside her and put her arm round her and whispered something in her ear. Once again, as always when I looked at Lily, I had to dismiss the idea of schizophrenia. Giving me her real name was another Conchis "cod"; a mine for me to one day tread on. The two of them stood a moment, Rose-June's arm round her sister's shoulders. Whatever she had said had brought a modified forgiveness. They smiled down at me in their different ways, one mischievous, the other shy, presenting