The Last Summer

by Iain Crichton Smith

  “No, there are no laws that have been discovered by poets or playwrights or artists. And even if one speaks of technical laws, artists very often break these. The greatest masterpieces are often created by breaking such laws. Scientific laws are subjected to the test of whether they are infinitely repeatable. I write an equation on the board and it is true for all space and all time. It is as true for Mars as it is for Earth, for Saturn as it is for the Moon. Not even a wee man in a goldfish bowl can break Newton’s law.

  “No, Newton showed a universe rational and harmonious. As beautiful as a clock. We cannot change the fundamental laws of the universe. The stars are in their courses and will remain so. Newton said that if he knew all the forces present in the universe he could calculate what it would be like in any number of years you care to name. The eighteenth century was based on this rational harmony. Pope’s poetry emerged from it. The heroic couplet is Newtonian in essence. ‘Look, look up at the stars,’ said Hopkins. These are impersonal. They do not depend on us. But they give us hope. They testify to the rationality of the universe.”

  Dazzled, Malcolm stared into the sun.

  25

  AFTER SOME CONSIDERABLE thought Malcolm decided to go and see Dell. He was told that he was fishing on the pier and he walked down through the fields which were rankly perfumed with the summer till he came to the road which led to the pier. He walked along all by himself, hearing now and again the small secretive sound made by a water rat or a vole making its way cautiously through the reeds which bordered the road, and once he did actually see a rat which looked at him with small beady bright eyes and then disappeared. The blue-keeled boats were drawn up on the shore and the waves lapped against the rocks encrusted with mussels and whelks. Sitting on a bollard on the pier was Dell, a rod in his hand inched out over the side of the stone, the line drifting in the water. Malcolm walked over the stone pier towards him, his shoes making no sound.

  “Quiet, I think I’ve got something,” said Dell, gently pulling at the rod, but whatever it was had gone and he slowly lowered the line into the water again.

  There were no ships on the horizon. Behind them were the jagged rocks and the pools of briny water. Six cuddies were lying on the stone beside Dell.

  “I came to ask you something,” said Malcolm, squinting into the sun as Ronny did.

  Dell didn’t turn his head. “What is it?” he asked neutrally.

  Malcolm didn’t know how to begin so he said:

  “What are the rules for substitutes in the game you’re playing on Saturday?”

  Dell turned, looking at him in an amused way, his bony jaw jutting out.

  “I thought you’d know that, a scholar like you.”

  “No, seriously. I don’t know. There are no substitutes allowed, are there?”

  “No, there aren’t.”

  “I thought as much. In that case I can’t play for you.”

  “What are you talking about? In any case I thought you weren’t going to play anyway.”

  “Well,” said Malcolm drawing a deep breath, “the thing is I don’t know whether I’ll be playing till about ten minutes before the game.”

  “Ten minutes before the game? What are you talking about?” Dell pulled slightly at the fishing rod but there was nothing on it.

  Instead of replying directly, Malcolm asked: “Have you a team for Saturday?”

  “A kind of a team.”

  “Do you think you’ll win?”

  “Wait,” said Dell, excitedly. “I’ve got something this time. It’s bigger than a cuddy.” He pulled up the rod slowly and as it rose in the air in a delicate arc Malcolm could see a fish bigger than a cuddy flashing silver at the tip of the line.

  “I think it’s a saithe,” said Dell, bringing it up in a wide arc, very delicately. He laid it on the stone, took hold of the struggling fish and banged it quickly against a stone, its faintish red blood staining it and his hands. He wiped them with a rag which he took out of his pocket, leaving it lying on the pier. Then he took out a packet of Turkish cigarettes from which he extracted one. “They nearly put me off the bus for smoking one of these,” he said laughingly. They were practically the only kind of cigarette obtainable and they emitted the most horrible smell.

  “I was saying,” said Malcolm patiently, “that I don’t know whether I’ll play for you or not. I’ll not know till ten minutes before the game. About ten minutes or so.”

  “Why?” said Dell, puffing the smoke towards him and trying to produce a perfect smoke ring.

  “I can’t explain.” And how could he explain? He didn’t know himself what he was going to do yet. He might go to the cinema with Janet; on the other hand he might not At this precise moment in time he didn’t know what to do. The only thing definite was that he wouldn’t play for the school team. He would go to meet Janet, about a quarter past two or ten past—give or take a few minutes—and then, standing there, he would know what he would do.

  “It’s impossible,” said Dell at last, uncorrugating his brow. “Can’t be done.”

  “Well, I mean, if there was someone who wanted to withdraw, if I turned up, I mean, and he was willing to withdraw when he saw me coming.” His words came out in stammering confusion. He himself didn’t know what the situation was going to be.

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” said Dell. “Not a word. Not one word.” He tried for another smoke ring. “Who do you think would withdraw?”

  “Look,” said Malcolm beginning again, “for various reasons, which there would be no point in going into now, I don’t know whether I shall be playing till ten minutes before the game. Suppose I turned up and someone withdrew. You could put me down just as a provisional reserve, couldn’t you? They’re not so strict in school matches as they are in adult games. If you told them for instance that you had difficulty in getting a team ready …”

  “But we have a team ready.”

  “All right. But it wouldn’t do any harm, would it? I mean you could put me down as a reserve, couldn’t you? And then if somebody wanted to withdraw I could play. They wouldn’t want you to play with ten men.”

  “But we don’t need to play with ten men.”

  “Listen, Dell, listen carefully, will you listen? I’ve withdrawn from the school eleven. There’s a reason why I don’t want to play with them.”

  “Do you mean you’ve been dropped?” said Dell pointing his cigarette at him like a tycoon.

  “No, I have not been dropped. Now if I make up my mind that I want to play for you in the ten minutes or so I’d have, would it be all right? I mean supposing someone would withdraw.”

  “You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you? You think we can’t win without you, don’t you? Isn’t that it?”

  “Well, do you?”

  Dell paused and then said after a while, “We’d have a better chance with you. I agree with that. But you’re cutting it fine. And it would mean someone willing to withdraw, someone who would have to be told about it beforehand, and who would withdraw if you turned up.”

  “Well, is there someone like that?”

  “The only person I can think of is Colin.”

  There was a silence, except for the waves lapping on the rocks. The sun dazzled the eyes if you looked into it. Malcolm found himself screwing up his one eye again and then looking down at the clobbered fish from which all light and life had faded, leaving it a dull grey.

  “Colin?” he said confusedly. “But Colin plays left back and I play outside right.”

  “Look,” said Dell, stubbing the cigarette out on the stone, “If we got you we might win. But you say you don’t know whether you’ll turn up. Fair enough, we’d be glad to have you. And if you don’t turn up that’s all right too. But the way you’re talking you don’t know for sure what you’re going to do. I don’t even know what you’re talking about half the time. Anyway Colin is the weakest player in the team. No, don’t say anything. He is, you know. We could pull someone else back and giv
e you the outside right position. What do you think of that?”

  “If I hadn’t come by twenty-five past you could start without me, remember that,” said Malcolm. “It would mean I wasn’t coming. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I get it. But I wish you’d tell us why you can’t say now. And I’d have to see our manager about it. Still, he’ll be all right. We won’t have any trouble with him.”

  “Dell, I don’t know myself all the ins and outs of why I may not be able to come and anyway it would take too long to explain. But Colin … He wants to play such a lot.”

  “Well, that’s all we can do. And the team is more important than the man. You should know that. It would be better for us to win without Colin than to lose with him. I think the others would say the same.”

  “All this depends on which way I make up my mind.”

  “You’re leaving it pretty late, aren’t you? Still, we can put you down as a provisional reserve anyway.”

  “It’s not so close as all that. The football park is only two minutes away from the cinema.”

  “What’s the cinema got to do with it?”

  “Nothing. I mean it has, but it’s too complicated to explain now.”

  He wouldn’t know till the time what he would do.

  “Do you want to talk to Colin yourself?” said Dell without other comment.

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you ask me, you don’t know anything.”

  “I might talk to him. But don’t you say anything to him. Nothing. If I don’t turn up that’s all right. You just carry on.”

  “Thanks very much.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ll see Colin anyway.”

  “Why have you changed your mind anyway?” said Dell, casually baiting his line again. “You didn’t want to play for us and now you do.”

  “I want to play against the school now. But I don’t know what I’ll do. One thing sure, I won’t play for the school.”

  “You fix it up with Colin then,” said Dell. “And I won’t say anything. Is that all right? Are you clear of the school?”

  “Yes, I went and saw old Warhorse and told him I wanted out. He said as far as he was concerned I could play for anyone I liked. I could go to hell for all he cared.”

  “Warhorse?”

  “That’s the name of one of the teachers.”

  “Oh. Oh I see.”

  There was another silence as the line floated in the water and the sea soughed against the rocks, running up in diminishing threads of white foam-like sputum.

  “There isn’t anyone else, I suppose, apart from Colin, and no one injured?”

  “No, no one else. No one at all.”

  “All right then.” Malcolm got up, half hesitating still as if he had something else to say. Out in the bay he could see the green island with the white sheep moving about on it. Beyond that again there was the infinite haze and through it some of the hills of the mainland could be vaguely seen. In three months’ time he would be on the mainland making his way to university by train. He looked downwards to where the line drifted innocuously. He could see no fish, only seaweed, and perhaps a crab or two—if they were crabs—and then on the surface of the water the round delicate luminous circles of jellyfish opening and shutting like miniature umbrellas. He wanted to drop a stone through one of them to find out how good his aim was but knew that Dell wouldn’t want him to disturb the water.

  “All right then,” he said, turning away. “We’ll see what’ll happen.”

  He went back past the boats, down the road again, by the rustling reeds, in the warmth of the air, his shadow following him, dark and flat against the green. Once he found a can at the verge of the road and began to kick it venomously in front of him.

  26

  IT WAS HALF past one on his watch. He’d been walking the town till his feet were sore. He had taken some coffee and a bun in a local café, staring out into the sunlight. He had sat there for a considerable time till the Italian owner had begun to look at him significantly, not saying anything, just looking. It was another blazing day, the sun flashing from windows and the golden weathercock above the town hall. He had stood beside the fishing boats and later had seen the bus, with the village footballers, going past the cinema up the road to the park, maroon scarves streaming out of the window. He had looked to see if he could find Colin but couldn’t see him. He had explained everything to Colin, well, not quite everything. He had explained, however, why he might want to play. Colin had said he would step down. Naturally. But was there no one else? No, said Malcolm, it wasn’t that Colin was considered weak, it was rather that since he was his brother it would be considered that … Malcolm explained to himself that the reason he wanted to play so desperately was to get his revenge on Ronny, who was the school captain, to play the school team off the park. But was that wholly true? At least he felt it was wholly true. Anyway it was only for this one game. It would never happen again. Colin would be back in the side for the next game. It wouldn’t happen again. Never again.

  “Why do you say ‘Never again’, “ asked Colin.

  “Nothing. No reason. I meant it was the last time I’d ask you, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything else.”

  Colin had bent down and said to him, “Do you want to try my football boots on now?”

  “All right.” They didn’t fit.

  “I’ll take yours up with me,” said Colin. “If you don’t turn up then I’ll be playing.”

  “That’s right,” said Malcolm after a while.

  “I don’t understand all this,” said Colin. “I can see why you want to play but aren’t you going to leave it a little late?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t tell you. It’s private.”

  Colin was about to say something, looking rather puzzled. “Why the devil can’t I do something about the habit I have of putting myself in other people’s places?” Malcolm thought.

  It would be better to study mathematics. According to old Thin you eliminate the personal. He might do that yet too. He could feel Colin thinking: “Why did they pick on me? It must be because I’m the weak link.” Malcolm could feel that in his very bones, to the pit of his stomach.

  “It’s just this once,” he said again.

  He felt like a killer, so devious he was, so cheating, so deceptive. To my own brother, he thought. I’m doing this to my own brother. But after all it was only one game and he wanted his revenge on Ronny. He’d play him out of the park and beyond.

  “Try on the stockings now,” said Colin.

  “The stockings will be all right. I don’t need to try them on.”

  “Will you be needing shinguards if you play?” said Colin looking up at him from his kneeling position.

  “No. Yes, I’d better have shinguards.”

  And that was that. Now he had walked himself tired and would be no use for football or anything else. Another twenty minutes and he’d go along to the cinema and find out what he would do. Perhaps even now she was dressing in the hostel, sitting at the mirror combing her black hair, drawing on her stockings, pulling her dress over her head, putting perfume on herself, powdering her face, putting on her lipstick. He imagined her drawing on her stockings, while the small handbag stood on her dresser in the puritanical hostel room. He imagined her locking the clasp of the handbag with her small lace handkerchief in it, looking around for her few coins. No, neither of them was rich like Ronny. Oh, she would come all right. He was convinced of that. Otherwise the whole thing would be unworthy of Ronny. It wouldn’t have the correct mathematical drama. It wouldn’t be beautiful or elegant. It wouldn’t be the correct equation. It wouldn’t be, as Mr Thin had said, harmonious, like the stars of the eighteenth century, like the heroic couplet. He found himself brushing against an old lady in black, so frail that she almost invited a push into the gutter. He walked on and gazed into a shop window. It showed suits and posters saying “Worth Double”.

  He heard people talking behind him.

&
nbsp; “And I said to her, you knew well that your husband wouldn’t like it, him being away in the war an’ all.”

  He could see some people already going up to the match, one of them smoking a pipe and saying, “The ground should be quite dry, I would think.”

  He walked along till he came to the place where he ate his dinner and went past in case he met anyone and then walked up the brae a bit to where there was a shop showing religious tracts in the window. A woman was hanging clothes on a line in a tenement backcourt, her calves strong and rather rough as she strained upwards. Beyond her he could see the spires of the school rising into the clear sky. A red tricycle was lying by the clothes line. He stared at the red tricycle and the flat byzantine geometrical clothes for a long time. Had she after all agreed to come at this time for this reason and no other? Surely she must be as treacherous as Ronny. Some aristocratic instinct had prevented him from asking her right out. But she must know. Of course she must know. She must know what Ronny had been planning. Yet even if she had known, would it be as well for him to go with her even if it was the last time? It was ten to two on the yellow face of the clock above the town hall. She might already have set out from the hostel walking. Should he go and meet her? No, he would wait here just above the cinema. Already some of the spectators would be lining the pitch. Soon the game would start. A slight breeze moved his trousers. Colin would be in the dressing-room wondering what was going to happen. Only he and Dell knew.