The Green Knight by Iris Murdoch Page B

hair too! Clement – any news of Lucas? Well, of course not, you would have told me.’
    â€˜No news.’
    â€˜My dear, I’m so sorry. I feel sure he’s all right. He’s such an eccentric creature. He’ll turn up.’
    â€˜He’ll turn up,’ said Clement. ‘I just so – very much wish that he would.’
    â€˜I know how close you are. I was thinking just the other day – remember that game you used to play with him in the basement when you were children. What was it called? It had some funny name.’
    â€˜ “Dogs”.’
    â€˜Yes, of course, “Dogs”. Why did you call it that?’
    â€˜I forget.’
    As Louise turned away from the window Clement, looking out into the dark rainy street, saw something odd. A stout man in a trilby hat was walking slowly down the other side of the street, now folding his umbrella. The rain must be abating. He looked familiar. Clement thought, haven’t I seen that man before? He looks like that chap I saw a few days ago outside my place. He looked as if he were waiting for someone. He was about to say something about the man to Louise when something struck his foot. It was a red ball. As he stooped to pick it up a yellow ball followed, then a blue one, then more, reds, yellows, greens. Moy had fetched the ball box down from her room and was bowling them fast across the carpet, while with her other arm she restrained Anax. Swiftly Clement gathered the balls up, distributing them with magical ease about his person, Then moving into the middle of the room he began to juggle, with four balls, five balls, six balls, balls without number. The balls moved faster and faster, seeming to find their way, balanced upon air, making patterns which owed nothing to the juggler’s swift hands. And to Clement itself it was as if the creatures themselves, innocent of gravity, were playing like birds a weightless game around his head. How do I do it, he thought, how is it done? I don’t know what I’m doing. If I did know what I’m doing I would not be able to do it.
    Louise, watching the spellbound children watching Clement, felt such a strange painful joy, tears came into her eyes.
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    A little later, Louise had descended to the kitchen where Sefton had already done the washing up. Moy, with Anax, had taken her beloved Clement up to her attic to show him a picture. Sefton was lying flat on the floor in the Aviary and thinking. Harvey was sitting on Aleph’s bed in her bedroom on the floor above. The room was small, accommodating a little desk, a chest of drawers, some shelves for books, a chair and a bed. Aleph’s dresses hung with Sefton’s in the large cupboard on the floor below. There was just enough space for Harvey’s knees not to touch Aleph’s as they sat facing each other.
    â€˜Does it hurt?’
    â€˜It itches.’
    â€˜Rosemary’s itched too.’
    â€˜When are you going on tour with Rosemary?’
    â€˜November. She used to scratch inside it with a knitting needle.’
    â€˜Can you lend me one?’
    â€˜No one here knits. Perhaps I’ll buy you one.’
    Harvey had got through the evening creditably. He had eaten and drunk plenty at supper, he had praised the artistic efforts on his cast, he had listened patiently to the account of Rosemary’s recovery, he had laughed at everyone’s jokes, watched Clement juggling and said ‘aaah!’ at the right moment. But his heart was heavy and black and painful within him and he felt humiliated and defeated and miserable and afraid. He hated the hot heavy cast and was appalled when Moy suggested painting on it, he found the idea sickening. The cast he was now wearing was his third, the one put on after the first examination in England having been removed so that the damaged foot and ankle could be viewed by some grander specialist. This specialist had now gone on holiday and Harvey gained