children had come to burn with their glass the maggots that grew out of it. I found I could not think too much about this: I had bared my teeth: it seemed that I should just bury the dead body of the child. I looked round for something that would serve as a spade. There were some slates in a small pile of rubble by the child. I pulled at these, and there became dislodged from the pile a piece of coloured glass. The piece of glass was smooth and red and slightly convex like a small pool of blood. It seemed that the children might have been using just such a piece of glass to concentrate the rays of the sun. I used a slate to scrape at the rubble and cover the dead child. I wondered if there had been a stained-glass window here once, pieces of which had made splashes of light like blood. I succeeded in covering the child. I thought - And the maggots: oh they will live, they will die! There was one of the children at some distance from me standing at a corner of the church: it was watching me. It was somewhat like the small child who had been waiting in the clearing beneath the railway lines for the deaf-and-dumb girl who had been in the tyre: it wore a similar smock to just below its knees. I had picked up the piece of coloured glass and was looking at this; it was a strange deep red; it was very beautiful; it seemed to have retained some of the rays of the sun inside it, and not to have burned with them. The small child by the church was coming towards me; it seemed to be looking for what it might find among the stones. I thought, as I had thought before - Perhaps people will think it is to do with me, that body of a child. The child in the smock had come up to me and held out its hand: indeed, it seemed to be the boy-child that I had seen before with the girl in the tyre. I gave him the piece of blood-red glass I had been holding. The child took it, and put it in a pocket at the front of his smock. I thought -So this child collects coloured glass: to burn; to build windows with? Then - I see: but what? That seeds are being scattered like bits and pieces of light? That light does not only burn: and gods look down? And we can know this: what else need we know? That maggots sometimes grow wings and fly? The child turned away with its small piece of coloured glass.
When I got back to the rectory I found two letters which had come by the same post. One was from Melvyn. It said -
Please find out about the activities of a company called National Shipbuilders Security which is operating in your part of the
world. It is run by a gang of international financiers and crypto-Fascists who are buying and dismantling temporarily out-of-work shipyards so that the effective power of the shipbuilding industry will pass to their masters, the gangsters of the United States and Japan. The active arm of the conglomerate is said to be this new so-called Radical Party. Be careful how you go! Such people would not be averse to using gangster methods to further their design.
The Prime Minister is almost certainly in their pay. His current mistress is an Austrian whose former husband was the chairman of the bank the failure of which was the direct cause of the formation of the National Government. Need I say more - as Henry VIII said when asked who was next to be beheaded.
Mullen seems temporarily to have taken leave of his senses and is interesting himself in that little girl you introduced us to at that party. I think he imagines that through her he might get some entree to you. I suppose in the chariot position she might just be taken to be a boy.
Keep your pecker up, as the hangman said to the man he had just dropped.
The second letter was from the girl called Suzy. She said -
I have to thank you for what you have done for me as a result of our odd meeting at that party. My father has suddenly relented and says I can go to Paris. I think he is letting me do this in order to get me away from you. Someone seems to have been telling him terrible stories about you, and about those terrible people who he thinks are your friends. So I have been telling him I am madly in love with you, and so he is packing me off to Paris.
Of course, all this does make you madly interesting and I am a bit in love with you, so please get in touch with me when we both return to Cambridge.
I thought - Oh well, this is how things work, is it? Then - But there is no letter from my beautiful German girl.
Sometimes I walked with Peter Reece as he went about his business in the parish. He would go about on foot: he had a theory that people should normally go about on foot; then there might be time for things to sort themselves out.
I said 'You believe things do sort themselves out? I mean you do
what you have to do, and other people do what they do; and what happens is likely to be all right?'
Peter Reece said 'What else is God?'
I said 'You mean "God" is a word for the fact that things sort themselves out, and not for the fact that there is a God.'
Peter Reece said 'What is the difference?'
We walked between rows of houses that were like stitching. The entrance to each house was through a yard at the back; at the front there were small gardens and just a footpath between them and those of the houses in the next row. Each backyard served two houses and in it there was a latrine on one side and a hut for coal on the other. I thought - It is more comfortable for people to live facing back? When Peter Reece went into the houses I usually stayed outside. I thought - As an anthropologist, I do not want to disturb these strange people.
I said to Peter Reece 'But whatever it is that happens, you could say that it was this that was being sorted out - '
Peter Reece said 'But there are some things that do not seem to be being sorted out.'
I said 'Such as - '
He said 'Love, for instance.'
I thought - He is thinking of the Good Samaritan? Of me?
- He is a bit in love with me? Then - I am mad to be so often thinking this!
Then - But perhaps love is that which gets the other stuff sorted out.
On the few occasions when I went in with Peter Reece to talk to families in their homes it seemed in fact evident that we were learning little about the families themselves; only about what they wanted to show to us. When they spoke among themselves I found it difficult to understand their dialect. I thought - But what is it that they do not show to us; what is it that goes on, as it were, behind their backyards?
I would say to them 'But what can anyone do about unemployment here if no one needs more ships? The only way in which people will want more ships will be if there is a war.'
'Oh we don't want another war.'
'So I mean, can't you do something different from building ships?'
'In this town we've always built ships.'
'Can't you change?'
'Change?'
4 Yes.'
I thought - Oh this is a dialect they find hard to understand!
- They have the tombs of their ancestors behind their backyards? Afterwards, walking home, Peter Reece would put his hand on
my arm and flash his eyes and say 'You were lovely!' I would think - Well dear God, if he is a bit in love with me -
- What on earth is being sorted out?
I was waiting to hear from you, my beautiful German girl.
I had given you my address in the north of England. I had told you that it would surely not be difficult for you, with your Marxist group, to come to visit me in the place where there was the highest unemployment in England.
I tried to work out what it was that I felt about you at this time. Were you perhaps to me one of those ladies in the Middle Ages for whom knights went out to do heroic deeds: the knights could not stay except for moments with their beloved ladies, or where would be the heroic deeds?
I thought - But where are they anyway? And so, yes, I was waiting for you to visit me.
Peter Reece once said 'Have you ever been in love?'
I said 'I think so.'
He said 'I cannot imagine being loved by any human with whom one is in love.'
I thought - You mean, that is another reason for the use of the word 'God'?
Then one day there was a letter, yes, from you, my beautiful German girl. You said that you w
ould certainly try to visit me when you came with your Marxist group to England. You added -
I have been discussing with Franz (you remember Franz?) what you say about Dirac. I am most interested in what is meant by 'chance'. Surely 'chance' is just a word for what cannot be explained by natural science. We call 'chance' what in our experiments is manifestly out of our control. But we still observe processes, patterns. One might as well use the word 'God'.
Oh I would dearly like to continue to bump into you just by chance! This would mean, Max, that we might imagine we could use the word 'God'. But then, of course, I might not bump into
you! And this does not mean that I will not take care to travel to the north of England.
Do you understand what I say? No one else does.
Elena
I thought - Yes I know what you say, my beautiful German girl.
- Oh but let us be careful about the use of the word 'God'!
Then one evening soon after I had got this letter (how could I have expected you so quickly? I didn't expect you for another two or three weeks) - one evening when I had been on one of my long walks along the estuary, perhaps to look for children again or for pieces of coloured glass, I found Peter Reece waiting for me when I got back. He was standing at the foot of the scaffolding around the Hall, on which perhaps I should have been working longer hours. He looked embarrassed. I thought - Why should he be embarrassed? It is I who have been out wondering if I might see children, or angels. He said 'There have been people asking for you.'
I said 'Asking for me?'
He said 'I think it's the family of the girl you were talking about: the girl who is deaf and dumb.'
I said 'But they don't know about me!'
I thought - He is embarrassed because he has heard something awful has happened?
He said 'I think they'd like to see you.'
I said 'I haven't seen her since the first day I arrived!'
He said 'I've talked to the girl's mother.'
I said 'What did she say?'
He said 'You'd better go and see them.'
I thought - Do they think I've assaulted their daughter? Murdered some baby on that wasteland?
I said 'Is anything wrong?'
Peter Reece looked distressed. He said 'I don't know: is there?'
I thought - Or is he just jealous?
I set off that evening to the house, the whereabouts of which Peter Reece had described to me, which was where the family of the deaf-and-dumb girl lived. I was still thinking - But if it is the family of the deaf-and-dumb girl, why should they want to see me? Or rather, why should I not simply be pleased? Underneath the railway lines it was as if there had been some Annunciation. But what could they want to see me about that was not a threat? However, surely this would be better than doing something boring
like continuing to try to find out about National Shipbuilders Security Limited. I was walking once more into the area of the houses that were like stitching. I was thinking - But of course, there seems to be some strange coincidence here: coincidence has to do with chance; with change? I was coming to the house of which Peter Reece had told me the number. There was the latrine on one side of the yard and the coal-shed on the other. There were no children visible as I went in. When I knocked at the door of the house it was opened by a dark thin woman in a pink flowered apron: she did look, yes, like a gypsy. She wiped her hands on her apron. She said something in the dialect I found difficult to understand. I followed her into the kitchen which had a stove and a dresser and two rocking-chairs and a chest with a piece of carpet over it by the window. In one of the rocking-chairs there was an old woman, or man, it was difficult to tell - grey hair straggled down from a woollen cap with a bobble on the top: he or she had a large rug, or shawl, over the knees. The woman in the apron leaned with her back against the stove; the stove was out: it seemed that I was just doing what I had to be doing, I did not know what it was. I thought - You influence what you observe, all right, but what if you have no idea what it is you are observing? I said 'Father Reece said you wanted to see me.' The woman said something again in the dialect that I found difficult to understand. I thought - I can put my own interpretation on it: it will still be just this that is happening. I said 'It was your daughter I came across some time ago, was it, when she was playing by the railway lines?' I sat down on the chest which was underneath the window. There was a door at the far side of the room through to what might have been a bedroom; the woman was looking towards this door: the house seemed to have just one more room on the top floor. The woman said something which sounded like 'The lady said you might do something for her.' I did not think I could have heard this right. I did not even bother to say - What lady? I said 'Do what sort of thing for her?' The woman said 'Will you take her then?' It seemed I should say - Of course I won't take her. Then I thought - You mean, you want me to take her? I could make out less than ever what was happening. But I thought - Why should it not be all right if I don't know what is happening! The woman was looking at the old person in the rocking-chair. This person seemed to be trying to lift herself up slightly from the seat, as if she were adjusting herself on a lavatory. The woman by the stove said 'Well she can't stay
here.' I thought - What do you mean, she can't stay here? The door at the back of the room opened and a man in shirtsleeves and braces came in. I said 'Hullo/ He said 'Hullo.' The woman said 'You stay out.' The man said 'I'm here.' I thought - It is not as if I were observing the situation, it is as if the situation were observing me. The man said something to the woman in the dialect that I found difficult to understand. The old person was still pushing herself up in the rocking-chair as if there were something underneath trying to get out: I thought - She is a woman, yes, and not a man: she seems to be trying to give birth. I said 'I came here because Father Reece said you wanted me to come; I understood it was something to do with your daughter.' The woman and the man were still talking between themselves. They were saying things like: 'You wanted him to take her' - 'Oh it's always me who wants things, is it!' - 'Well it is, isn't it?' - 'It was her as much as me!' - 'Your own child!' I thought - You mean, this man has been carrying on with his daughter? Then - Well that is not so strange, is it; in any old tribe. Then - You mean, they might be offering me their daughter? The woman was saying again to me 'Will you take her?' I said 'Take her where?' The woman said 'The lady told her you could get her help somewhere.' I said 'What lady?' I thought - What lady, yes, what lady? The man and woman were talking again between themselves. I thought - You mean there's something more here than even what I understand I don't understand: there is something playing like unheard, violent music. The woman was repeating 'Well she can't stay here!' Then - 'His own daughter!' The man said 'That's enough, mother, I've said I've agreed.' I said 'Who is this lady?' The man said 'The foreign lady.' I thought - This is ridiculous. I said 'What foreign lady?' The woman said 'The foreign lady who was looking for you at the same time she went up for you.' I thought - Who was looking for me? Who went up for me? The woman said 'She showed her the way.' I said 'Who showed who the way?' The woman said 'She told the foreign lady the way.' The man said 'She was asking for you.' I said 'Your daughter told the foreign lady the way?' Then - 'But I thought she couldn't speak.' The woman said 'Are you surprised after what he done to her!' The man said 'That's enough, mother!' The woman said yet again 'His own daughter!' I thought - There is too much happening here all at once. The foreign lady: she was looking for me? The girl was looking for me too? I said 'But when was this, when did they meet, she and the foreign lady?' The woman said 'They were both
there, at the rectory; they talked with Father Reece.' There was, it appeared, something stirring under the rocking-chair beneath the rug that was across the knees of the old woman. I thought - A cat or a dog? An incubus? Who would be surprised if the old woman was a witch! I said 'It is your daughter we are talking about, the one I thought couldn't speak, the young girl that I met down by the railway lines.' The man said 'She
can talk when she likes.' The woman said 'The foreign lady said you might help her.' I said 'Now look, look, who is this foreign lady?' There were emerging from beneath the old person in the rocking-chair some small feet, some white bare legs, a behind in grey cotton pants. I thought - Well indeed, why shouldn't she be under the protection of some magic, this sort of angel! The girl crawled out from underneath the rug around the rocking-chair and sat crossed-legged on the floor. She smiled up at me. She was, of course, yes, my bright-eyed angel: the small girl who had gone bounding and bouncing to safety down a hill. I said 'Hello.' The girl smiled up at me. She made no movements with her hands. She had those brown-and-pink cheeks and bright black eyes: her legs were like shoots from the centre of a seed. She could have been, perhaps, nine, ten. I said 'Let's go and talk to Father Reece.' I held out my hand. Then I thought - Oh well, yes, perhaps you have been here, my beautiful German girl: is not this the sort of thing by which I shall know you have been here? The girl stood up; she took my hand. I thought - The last time I saw you, my beautiful German girl, it was by that castle and I was holding a child by the hand: and we had said that we had not wanted children! The woman was saying 'She has to be taken away from her own father!' The man was saying again 'That's enough, mother, I've said I've agreed!' I thought - Well, all right, if this is the sort of thing that goes round and round. I said to the mother and father 'We'll go; I'll let you know what happens.' The woman said 'But you'll help her?' I was holding the hand of the child. I thought - Oh but surely, my beautiful German girl, this does not mean you have come and now gone?
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