The Green Knight by Iris Murdoch Page A

goodwill, was slightly forced. The company was still suffering from shock. Harvey’s return had been so unexpected, after they had been resignedly bemoaning his absence and envying his luck. Of course his mishap was trivial, a ridiculous accidental fall, his recoyery would be rapid, Rosemary Adwarden, when she had broken her leg skiing, had been quite mobile after a few weeks. It was just that it was surprising, even embarrassing, to find Harvey back so soon and suffering from any ailment, it seemed quite out of character! It was also surprising that he had not insisted on setting off at once for Florence.
    Harvey was a tall slim youth with glossy blond slightly curling hair which at school he had worn ridiculously long; more lately he had trimmed it to fall flowing back to a length just above the shoulder, and had allowed himself the adornment of a sort of fringe which, though derided, was at once said to suit him, producing that ‘raffish Renaissance look’ which was his intention. He had a pretty nose, and a pouting mouth not too full-lipped, criticised as feminine, dubbed by its owner ‘pensive’, contributing to a certain forward pressing eagerness and air of lively curiosity. His eyes were brown and large, able (amicably) to blaze, and when narrowed and laughing, to glow. He was said, by Emil, to resemble the kouros in the Copenhagen museum. When Harvey managed to find a photo of this handsome and powerful youth he was suitably gratified. He played tennis and cricket and squash, ran faster than most people, and was a good wrestler, though not as good as Clement, and a good dancer, though again not as good as Clement. He had often wrestled with Clement and on some occasions danced with him too. He was sweet-tempered and popular, though in some quarters thought to be conceited, and by his schoolteachers lazy and facile, able to excel but unwilling to exert himself in pursuit of perfection. His air of cheerful self-satisfaction was reassuring to some, irritating to others. Those who knew him little could scarcely have guessed that he had had any troubles in his life.
    The affecting little scene round Harvey was breaking up a bit. Sefton, leaning against the books, looking up something she had suddenly remembered to look up, was tapping her square teeth with her fountain pen. Moy, who had been dusting Harvey’s cast with the fluffy end of her plait (known as ‘Moy’s magic whisk’) had left the room followed by Anax. Aleph, sitting at Harvey’s feet with her shoes off, was holding forth reassuringly about Rosemary’s experiences. Clement and Louise were standing at the window looking out at the evening rain.
    â€˜So you arranged it all by telephone? That was clever of you.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Clement, ‘they left their telephone number with me.’
    â€˜Everyone leaves their telephone number with you!’
    â€˜And they left the keys, so it was easy.’
    â€˜And they’re staying on in Greece and going to buy a house on an island?’
    â€˜They’ were Clive and Emil, the gay pair alluded to by Joan Blacket. Clement had ‘cleverly’ arranged for Harvey to move into their flat while Joan was to continue occupying Harvey’s. This made sense as Emil’s flat was reached by a lift, and Harvey’s by several flights of stairs. Clive and Emil were a steady couple. Emil, the elder, was German but had lived a long time in London. He had been a picture dealer, and was said to be rich. He wrote books about art history which were published in Germany. Clive, Welsh, who said (presumably a joke) that Emil picked him up on a building site, had been a schoolteacher in Swansea.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Clement, ‘but they’ll keep the London flat. I must say, I miss them, they are so entertaining and so sweet.’
    â€˜Didn’t they make some advances to Harvey?’
    â€˜No! They just pull his hair!’
    â€˜You pull his