by Mary Wesley
‘Oh, forget it. Just don’t include them.’
‘I thought the whole idea was that it is serious.’ Calypso stared at Oliver maliciously. ‘Wasn’t it?’
‘May I do my practice run soon? Will you watch me?’ Sophy put her pale face close to Oliver’s so that he squinted into her large black eyes. He put up a hand and pushed back her hair, black too like a cat’s and silky.
‘Puss.’ He caressed her as he would an animal. Calypso and Polly watched, amused.
‘Why not this afternoon? How would that be?’ Oliver patted the pale cheek dismissively.
‘We shall have to see that she doesn’t cheat.’ Walter stretched his arms to the sky.
‘It’s so hot.’ Polly turned over on to her stomach.
‘It won’t be hot if we line along the top of the cliffs. We will get the breeze. It’s Sophy who will get hot.’ Calypso closed her eyes, lifting her face to the sun. ‘Is my nose getting red?’
‘Put a leaf over it.’ The twins spoke in chorus.
‘Clever. Find me one.’ Calypso lay with a leaf shading her nose while they all cooked gently on the rocks.
The only flaw in her looks, thought Polly, observing her cousin, was that both sides of her face were symmetrical, her expression masklike. Most people had two sides to a varying degree, good and evil, happy and sad. Walter was particularly varied, as though he had been sat on at birth, and she herself had a slightly bent nose, while Oliver had the trace of a squint.
They lined the cliff that afternoon, Walter and Polly starting Sophy off from the headland under the coastguard station, the twins stationed above the path half-way along the course, Calypso and Oliver waiting at the finish. For most of the course Sophy would be visible, only out of sight where the path ran through dense thorn or at one point just above the sea, where it twisted sharply round high granite boulders.
Up on the cliff that afternoon the twins sat with their backs to the fence which prevented straying cattle from falling over.
‘She’s off. Walter’s unleashed her.’ They looked down at Sophy leaving Walter at a run to tear along the path.
‘I wonder what it will look like from the air.’
‘We’ve never flown. D’you think they will let us keep together?’
‘Surely they won’t separate us?’ Paul looked at David aghast.
‘It may happen.’
‘My God, I hope not.’
‘Death may.’
‘Not us. We shan’t get killed.’
‘Hi, we’ve forgotten Sophy. I can’t see her.’
‘She must be among the thorns.’
‘Or the boulders. She was going lickety spit. You don’t really think we can get split up, do you?’
‘Father says the authorities are bound to. He may be right. Think of the confusion at school.’
The other twin laughed. ‘Whatever happens we’ve had fun.’
‘If you die, I die.’
‘Oh, gloom! It hasn’t started yet. Where the hell is Sophy?’
‘She may have hurt herself. We’d better follow her. Remember Walter’s ankle.’
They scrambled down through the gorse and heather to the path, unusually tall young men, loose-limbed as puppies, their maize-coloured hair flopping over brown eyes fringed with feathery lashes, their looks the more noticeable because duplicated. They brushed their hair back from brows untouched by experience and ambled along the path.
‘Where are Walter and Polly?’
‘They must have gone back by the short cut.’
At the finish Calypso sat with Oliver, holding his hand.
‘I tell you what, Olly, even if I won’t marry you I’ll sleep with you. Have you ever done it?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Is it nice?’
‘Nice.’ Oliver looked at Calypso and repeated ‘nice’. How could ‘nice’ be a word applied to Calypso? ‘I want to have you to myself. I’ll wait.’
‘If there’s a war I’ll sleep with you before you get killed. That’s what maidens did in books and I am a maiden.’
‘How you carry on about your virginity. Virginity’s nothing. You can lose it riding a bicycle.’
‘I never knew that. I must be careful. I’m going to ride a bicycle in London. Pa says petrol will be rationed.’
‘And virginity not. How shall you find your rich prince from a bicycle? It’s so bourgeois.’
‘I will find him. If you want something hard enough you get it, and I want a very rich husband, always have.’
‘Oh, Calypso, don’t.’ Oliver put his arms round her. ‘Oh, my love, I will get rich, very rich. Then you will marry me.’
‘What’s that?’ Calypso drew away from him and sprang up. ‘Somebody screamed. Sophy.’
‘Something’s wrong.’ They ran down the path to meet Sophy, who approached them in a rush, hurling herself into Calypso’s arms, sobbing wildly.
‘What is it? What happened? Are you hurt? What’s the matter? Stop it, Sophy, stop it.’ But Sophy, clinging to Calypso, could not stop. Her sobs turned to screams, her fingers dug painfully into Calypso’s neck.
‘Sophy, you are hurting.’ Oliver pulled the child away and smacked her face. ‘Stop, Sophy. What happened?’
Through white lips the child said, gasping, ‘Pink, pink snake.’
‘What?’ Oliver stared at the child, her tears splashing white cheeks. ‘Speak up.’ But Sophy neither could nor would.
‘Did it bite you? She said “snake”.’ Calypso looked anxiously at Oliver. Sophy, silent now, said no more.
‘Our word, you made good time. What’s happened?’ The twins came trotting up the cliff path out of breath, flushed.
‘She’s been frightened, something about a snake. Did you see anything?’
‘No,’ they said. ‘Let’s see if she has been bitten.’ The twins examined Sophy’s legs as she lay across Oliver’s lap, giving an occasional exhausted hiccup. ‘Nothing, not even scratched. Let’s see your arms.’ They examined the child. ‘Surely you ought to wear knickers,’ they said, pulling down her skirt.
‘Oh, leave her alone. She’s been scared by something and she’s not going to tell us.’ Calypso stood above Oliver and the twins. ‘Come on, Sophy, it’s over now, time for tea.’ Her voice was adult, she held out her hand, Sophy took it, letting go of Oliver.
‘Sorry.’ The child looked round at their kind faces. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You did the run jolly fast,’ said the twins.
‘Record time.’ Oliver smacked the child’s bottom in friendly fashion as he stood up.
‘Did I really?’
‘Yes, I shall have to look to my laurels.’
‘Oh, good. I’m even quicker by moonlight.’ She sprang away from them towards the house.
‘Something happened.’ Oliver watched her go. ‘I wonder what.’
‘Well, she’s not going to tell.’ Calypso put a full stop to the incident, feeling that Sophy wished to draw attention to herself.
Six
ON THE EVENING OF the Terror Run Helena invited Max Erstweiler and his wife Monika to supper. They walked with the twins across the stubble on the top of the cliff.
‘So peaceful,’ Monika said. ‘A year ago in the country at harvest time we were full of fear.’
‘We are full of fear still. But not for ourselves any more.’
‘I find it worse to be safe and Pauli not, he must follow us. God will help us and our friends.’
‘Gott mit uns? Don’t be ridiculous,’ Max sneered.
‘Father says we must not lose God,’ said David, walking beside Monika, ‘but we already have. We lost him when we slipped our cartilages playing rugger. We lost the match as well. We really had prayed.’
‘How old were you?’ Monika smiled.
‘Twelve,’ said Paul, laughing.
‘And you dropped him just like that?’
‘We’ve never told Father,’ said David gravely.
‘Your father is a saint,’ said Max. �
�I say this in case there are saints, though personally I doubt it.’
‘You go to Father’s church, you play the organ for him.’
‘That is the least I can do for your father and mother. Also you boys are fortunate.’
‘We are,’ said the twins, grieving for the Erstweilers’ anxiety. ‘It will be all right, Monika, you wait and see. We are going to fight for him.’
‘How?’
‘The Air Force. We are off at the end of the month to join up, fight for all you people. We will get your son for you.’
‘In a casket,’ said Erstweiler bitterly. ‘They send you a casket. Our son is a musician, you cannot play the piano in a casket.’ The twins fell silent, showing their awkwardness by stiffening their legs as they walked.
‘What is this game you play?’ Monika felt the hurt in their silence.
‘We race along the cliff path. Oliver called it the Terror Run because he is afraid of heights. It is a bit scary in places but even Sophy can do it now. It’s an institution. We run by the light of the moon.’
‘May we watch?’
‘Of course. The elders sit on the camomile lawn and gossip while we run.’
‘And this new game? Did you not say there is another game?’ asked Max.
‘Yes, a secret, a dare. We are going to draw lots, you and Monika too, if you want.’
‘Even if we don’t know what for?’
‘Yes. We know and the cousins and if any of us draws the card we shall know what to do but if you and Monika join in it makes it more exciting for us. There are only three marked cards so it’s much better if you and the Major and Mrs Cuthbertson join in. That makes eight blanks.’
‘And the result is secret?’
‘Yes.’
‘It sounds like life,’ Max said grimly as he rang the bell in the Cuthbertson porch.
Walter came to the door. ‘Come in,’ he said, ‘come through the house. We’ve persuaded Aunt to let us dine on the lawn.’ He led the way. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘isn’t it terrific?’
‘Ach!’ exclaimed Monika. ‘So schön.’
The cousins had carried out the dining table and chairs. The table was set with a white cloth on the camomile lawn, the setting sun and the sea a backdrop.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ Calypso came to greet them.
‘Lovely,’ the twins admired, ‘brilliant idea.’
‘It was my idea.’ Calypso led Monika up to her uncle.
‘Uncle Richard, this is Monika Erstweiler and Max Erstweiler, who are staying at the Rectory.’
‘We met briefly in church.’ Richard limped forward to shake hands. ‘My wife allows my nephews and nieces a very free rein. May I offer you a drink?’
Helena came out wearing a long dress which gave her dumpy figure dignity. She admired Monika’s looks and was struck by Max’s charm. ‘This is a party we have every year,’ she said. ‘It may be the last. When the war starts we shall have to black out our windows, show no lights.’
‘Every year out of doors?’
‘Never before, but tonight it seemed safe. It’s fun for the children.’
‘The children are talking of fighting, are they not men?’
‘I suppose they are.’ Helena looked at the twins, at Oliver, at Walter. ‘Men—’ her voice trailed.
‘You have a son,’ Richard broke the silence heartily, ‘in a camp, I believe. My friend the General says they are doing all these people a power of good.’
Max Erstweiler gasped and uttered a word which sounded alien on the lawn above the English channel—‘Unerhört—’
All the cousins started talking at once and Helena said: ‘Shall we start dinner? The sun is almost set. Light the candles, somebody. Mrs Erstweiler, will you sit here, and you beside me, Mr Erstweiler.’
‘What did the fellow say?’ Richard hissed at his wife, who had kicked his good shin painfully. ‘Can’t understand his accent.’
‘It’s what you said.’ Helena spoke from the corner of her mouth.
‘Oh, did I drop a brick?’
Helena was already chattering to Max, and the agony passed as they ate and talked while the sun slid into the sea and the light from the candles lit their faces so that eyes shone from mysterious sockets. The girls grew more beautiful and Sophy, sitting still beside Oliver, who held Calypso’s hand on his other side under the table, registered the scene in her mind.
When the moon came up like an outrageous balloon they fell silent, watching her rise red, gold then silver into a taffeta sky.
‘The moon.’ Oliver held his glass high.
‘And absent friends.’ Richard rose, steady on his good leg, smiling down at Monika. ‘Absent friends,’ he repeated as they all drank.
He can be splendid, thought Helena. I must encourage him and not crush.
‘Thank you.’ Monika smiled at Richard, her eyes wet. He is a sensitive man, she thought, noticing the tear in his eye, and one can’t deny these Semites have looks, thought Richard, wiping the tear with his habitual flick.
‘Shall we draw lots before or after the Run?’ Polly enquired.
‘Let’s do it now.’ Calypso let go of Oliver’s hand. His was dry, hers growing sticky.
‘Uncle Richard, shuffle the pack.’
‘Very well,’ He picked up the cards. The Cuthbertsons, the Erstweilers, the nephews and nieces and the twins all drew, Sophy last. ‘Whoever draws a marked card keeps it secret.’
They looked at the cards and threw them back into the bowl.
‘That’s done,’ said Oliver. ‘Now for the Run. Bags I go first.’
‘Me next,’ said Calypso. ‘Will you time us, Uncle Richard?’
‘Very well. Got your torches?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right. Same rules, I take it—flash the torch when you start?’
‘Yes.’
‘Off you go, then.’ Richard settled in a chair beside Monika.
The young people moved off.
‘Isn’t Sophy rather small?’ asked Monika.
‘She is running with the twins keeping an eye on her. She’ll be all right,’ said Helena.
‘And this other game for which we have drawn lots?’ asked Max.
‘I have no idea. Oliver dreams up something new every year. It’s no good asking, they won’t tell us.’
‘So we do not really take part?’
‘Possibly, but not consciously.’ Helena laughed.
‘It sounds like a gamble.’
‘Yes.’
‘Our son is involved in this sort of game. He was to follow us but the Brownshirts came to the University and took every fourth boy. It is terrible being a mother.’
‘I have always regretted missing out on that experience.’ Helena sought to comfort Monika.
‘Personally I think you’ve been spared a lot of bother,’ said Richard. ‘Think what the Virgin Mary went through.’
Helena burst out laughing. Max looked puzzled and muttered to his wife, ‘Herrlicher Humor?’ Before coming to England he had heard much of this English trait and wished to cultivate it himself.
‘They have reached the start.’ Helena pointed. ‘See their torches.’
Across on the headland the Cuthbertsons and Erstweilers could make out the group of young people above the sea, the rocks black and stark, the moon now quite high. Below the cliffs a calm sea and at the top of the cliffs the coastguard station white and functional.
‘Isn’t it dangerous? I can see no path.’ Monika was interested.
‘They all know it very well.’ Richard was lighting a pipe. ‘If I had my leg I would think nothing of it.’
Helena guarded her tongue.
‘Where is the finish?’ Max filled the brief silence.
‘Below us, out of sight. We hear them shout when they reach it. I time them. I have my stop watch and my word is final.’
‘Oliver is starting.’ Helena pointed. A torch flashed three times and Richard started his watch. They saw Oliver bound down the cliff, running hard
along the narrow path which twisted through the bracken and heather, then close to the cliff edge past clumps of thrift and sea campion, through short grass which in spring was full of squills, past gorse still in flower, mixing its sweet smell with the heather.
Oliver ran feeling exhilarating fear. If he ran fast enough he would outstrip terror. He had never let the others know the extent of his fear of heights, of the vertigo which would paralyse him if he looked down. He ran a race against his weakness.
As he doubled and jumped past the rocks he thought briefly of Sophy’s snake, then his feet pounded on grass and the scent of Lady’s Tresses came sweetly up and he knew it was over.
‘Spiranthes autumnalis,’ he cried, exulting, flashed his torch and sat down panting to wait for Calypso.
Within minutes she had run the course straight into his arms.
‘Was I fast, Olly? Shout for Uncle Richard, I have no breath left.’
Oliver held her close and they stood face to face, he holding her against him so that he felt the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing steadied.
‘Who is next?’
‘Sophy, then twin, twin, Polly and Walter last.’
Oliver stroked her hair then ran his hand down her back, holding her close.
‘Oliver, what’s that?’
‘What?’
‘This.’ She touched him.
‘Me. My cock.’
‘Oliver!’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s enormous.’
‘It’s quite ordinary. I’ve got an erection.’
‘A what?’
‘An erection. I want to poke it up you. Have you never seen a man with an erection?’
‘No.’ She turned in his arms and stood with her back to him. His hands covered her breasts.
‘So you really are intacta.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Virgin. I didn’t believe you.’
‘You embarrass me.’ Calypso leant back against him, covering his hands with her own. ‘Is it true? Wouldn’t it hurt me frightfully?’
‘No, you stretch. After all, you must stretch to let a baby’s head get out. You know how babies are born, or don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’ Calypso closed her eyes against the moon.
‘I love you.’ He kissed her neck. ‘I always shall.’