Authors: William Golding
“Christ!”
“What gives?”
“Fido! My old friend Fido!”
It was indoor athletics. A young man bulging with sinew and muscles was performing on the high rings. To Sophy he seemed like every other young competitor in the hall; but perhaps that was because he wore a face of such stern dedication.
“Fido! He was in with me—”
“Was?”
“Teacher now. PT. Some posh school or other. Wandicott.”
“I know Wandicott. Knew of Wandicott. It’s out our way, beyond Greenfield.”
“Oh good show, Fido! Splendid fellow! Dear God he’s sweating like the Sunday roast.”
“What do they do it for?”
“Showing off to their girls. Winning prizes. Getting promotion. Health, wealth, fame—show’s over.”
Sophy persuaded Gerry and Bill to let her help. Daisy didn’t come, didn’t want to come, it wasn’t her scene. They did three shops and came away with just over two hundred pounds. The risk seemed appalling to Sophy and she persuaded them to try Paki shops. It was certainly job-satisfaction for a bit. Pakis dwindled when Gerry pointed his fake gun at them. Sophy improved their technique by making Bill tell them that the organization would bomb the shop if there was any trouble. It was fun to see how the Pakis bundled money into the bag as if it was sweets or incense. They couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.
Sophy did some arithmetic with it, putting risk on one side of an equation and the money on the other. She talked to Gerry in bed.
“It’s no good, you know.”
He yawned in her ear.
“What isn’t?”
“Robbing the till.”
“Old soul! Have you got religion?”
“Too much chance of being caught.”
“One in a hundred.”
“And when you’ve done a hundred shops?”
There was a long pause.
“I mean—who’s got the money? The real money, I mean. The stuff to set you up for life, set you free, go where you like, do what you like—”
“Not banks my poppet. They’ve learnt too much. Advanced technology.”
“Arabs.”
She felt him shaking with laughter.
“Invasion is just not on. We’d need all three services. Good night, gorgeous.”
She put her lips close to his ear and giggled at the sheer outrage of her idea.
“Where do they send their children to school?”
This time the pause was even longer. Gerry broke it at last.
“Christ all bleeding mighty. As Bill would say. Christ!”
“Wandicott School, Gerry. Where your friend is. It’s stiff with them. Princes—the lot.”
“My God. You—you really are—”
“Your friend—what was it—Fido? Gerry—we could grab a boy and hide him and ask—we could ask a million, a billion and they’d pay it, they’d have to pay—they’d have to pay or we’d—Gerry kiss me right now yes feel me fuck me we’d have a prince in our power to bargain with and if that’s good more he’d be hidden and tied up and gagged and if oh if ah nothing nothing nothing on and on and on and on oh oh oh—”
So then there was another time of lying side by side, she with her arm across the chest of a Gerry who seemed wrecked and confused in the darkness. Then when he did breathe evenly she shook him—shook him hard.
“I wasn’t joking or pretending. It wasn’t just a thinking to come with. I mean it. Not this fiddling with shops! We might as well be stealing milk bottles!”
“It’s too much.”
“It isn’t too much for us, Gerry. It’s just enough for me. We’ll be caught if we go on doing shops because it’s small. But this—We need one big thing, a thing so monstrous no one would bother to defend against it—”
“It’s too much. And I want to kip.”
“I want to talk. I’m not going on with shops. That’s flat. If you want me, you’ll—We could be rich for life!”
“Never.”
“Look Gerry. At least we can go down and see what the school’s like. Meet your friend Fido. Get him in, perhaps. We could go and see how things are—”
“Not bloody likely.”
“We’ll drive down there and see what’s possible.”
“No we won’t.”
There was a long silence which she did not choose to break this time. Then when he was breathing evenly again, she spoke to herself, silently.
Oh
yes
we
will,
my
sweet.
You’ll
see!
They parked the car where the tree-covered track led up to the crest of the downs. They walked up and found that the old road along the top was deserted and windy. Clouds and bright sun succeeded each other, like takes in a film, across the rounded greennesses and indigo horizon. Nothing moved but the clouds. Even the sheep seemed to prefer motionlessness. A mile ahead of them the downs rose to a blunt top. The track led over the top then on, bump after bump away into the remote centre of the country. Sophy soon stopped.
“Wait a minute.”
He turned to her, grinning. He had plenty of colour and the hair was flopped over his forehead. She thought dizzily, as she got her breath back, that he had never been so beautiful.
“Not a natural walker are you, my beloved?”
“Your legs are longer.”
“Some people call this fun.”
“Not me. I wonder why they think so.”
“Beauties of nature. You are a beauty of nature and so—”
She twisted out of his arms.
“We’re doing a job! Can’t you keep your mind on it?”
They walked on, side by side, a country-visiting pair. Gerry pointed to the concrete stand at the top.
“That’s a base for triangulation.”
“I know.”
He looked at her in surprise. But unfolded the map.
“We spread this out on the plate and look round.”
“Why?”
“Sheer pleasure. Everybody does it.”
“Why?”
“Actually I
am
enjoying it quite a lot, you know. Takes me back to all that ‘Forward men!’ and so on.”
“What do we look round at?”
“We identify six counties.”
“Can we?”
“It’s always done. Great British tradition identifying counties. Never mind old thing, I won’t press it. Notice anything about the air?”
“Should I?”
“But they’ve written whole books about it!” And standing by the concrete pillar, his hair and the map fluttering, he began to sing, “‘Give to me the life I love, let the lave go by me—’”
From deep inside her she was shaken by a gust of sheer rage.
“For God’s sake Gerry! Don’t you know who—” She caught herself up and went on quickly. “I’m edgy. Can’t you see? You don’t know what it’s like to be—Sorry.”
“OK. Look, Sophy. This isn’t going to work, is it?”
“You said. You agreed.”
“A recce.”
They stared at each other across the pillar. It seemed to her that something, the air perhaps, was reminding him of other places and other people. He was firm and drawing back almost as if he might—escape.
The man in the van.
My
will
is
stronger
than
his.
“Gerry dear. We aren’t committed to anything. But we’ve spent three days on the job already. We know he uses the right of way and that we’ll meet him there by accident. We’ll make contact, that’s all. Argue later.”
He still stared at her from under his fluttering hair.
“One thing at a time.”
She moved round the pillar and squeezed his arm.
“Now then, map-reader. Where is it?”
“The right of way leads down from this place—see the dotted line? Down there is what you saw from the other side of the valley yesterday. He brings the boys up this dotted line towards us then turns to his left and circles back. Healthy country run.”
“Just about right. Come on.”
The right of way led down at the side of a wire fence that seemed to stretch without a break into clumps of trees in the bottom of the valley. Sophy pointed to a huddle of grey roofs.
“That’s it.”
“Over there on the other side where the trees are is where we were yesterday.”
“And there they are!”
“Christ yes. Dead on time. And there he is. Tell him a mile off. Well. He is a mile off or near enough. Notice his high-stepping action? Come on.”
The boys were coming up from the hollow with its glimpsed leaden roofs. They were a string of bobbing red objects, small boys in some sort of red sports outfit, and a larger bit of red bounced up and down in pursuit of them. The whole string trotted up the hill and the patch of red behind it became a wiry young man in a scarlet tracksuit who ran with an exaggerated knees-up action and now and then shouted at the boys in front of him. Gerry and Sophy stopped and the boys ran past, looking at them and grinning. The young man stopped too and stared.
“Gerry!”
“Fido—we saw you on the box!”
The young man called Fido gave a bellow that halted the boys. He and Gerry slapped each other’s backs, punched ribs and exchanged badinage. Fido was introduced. Fido was, or had been, Lieutenant Masterman but pointed out at once that he answered to the name of Fido or Bow Wow or Doggie but Fido mostly.
“Even the boys,” he said triumphantly. “They all call me Fido.”
Though Fido was only of average height he was splendidly developed. He had less head than face and his features were weathered by exposure. Sophy knew, from what Gerry had said, that Fido’s chest had been expanded by weight-lifting, his legs by assiduity on the trampoline and his balance by hair-raising exploits on any rock face within reach. His hair was dark and curly, his forehead low and his manner imperceptive.
“Fido is a positively national athlete,” said Gerry, with what Sophy recognized as malice. “You’d never believe his snatch.”
“Snatch?”
“Weight-lifting. D’you know how much?”
“I’m sure it was enormous,” cried Sophy, curving at Fido. “It must be marvellous to be able to lift as much as that!”
Fido agreed that yes it was rather marvellous. Sophy emitted
some perfume at him and allowed all the lines to stretch in his direction. There was a mutual expansion of pupils. Fido’s eyes were rather small and the expansion improved them. He told the boys to stay where they were but jump about a bit. Gerry said they’d seen the name of the school on the map and having seen Fido on the box thought that they might look him up—and now here he was!
“Keep warm, you men,” shouted Fido. “We’ll be going on in a jiffy.”
“You must be an inspiration to them, Mr Masterman.”
“Fido, please. I come when you whistle.”
He danced, fisted the air a bit then gave an ejaculatory laugh that really was rather like a bark. He went on to say that she could whistle for him when she liked and it would be a pleasure.
Gerry broke in.
“How’s the job, then, Fido?”
“Schoolmastering? Well, you can see I manage to keep fit on it. Do a lot of this stuff. Of course, it’s not the same as proper road-work. You can’t have the little men really going at it. So most days I carry weights. Besides—” He glanced round them cautiously, inspected the downs, bare of all but sheep and boys. “I have to keep a careful eye on them you know.”
Sophy trilled.
“Oh Fido! You’re stuck away here at the end of nowhere—”
He leaned towards her, reached out a hand to grasp her arm, then thought better of it.
“That’s just it. You see the little fellow there? No—don’t let him know you’re looking. Be subtle about it like me. Out of the corner of your eye.”
Sophy looked. The little boys were just little boys, that was all, except that three of them were black and two brown. Most were the usual sort of whiteish.
“The one thumping the nig?”
“Careful! He’s
royal
!”
“But Fido, how thrilling!”
“His parents are really nice people, Sophy. Of course they don’t get down here much together. But she actually spoke to me, you know. She said, ‘Build him up, Mr Masterman.’ She has a marvellous memory for names. They both have. He follows weight-lifting with keen interest, you know. He said ‘What d’you
reckon your limit’ll be in the snatch?’ I tell you, as long as we have them—”
Gerry tapped him on the shoulder and turned him from his exclusive attention.
“And you have another job as well as running the P.T.?”
“I’m not saying, am I? The little men don’t know, you see. But it’s such a load—why, good Lord, the lad his little highness was toughing up—and take that little brown fellow for example—he’s the son of an oil sheik. Got to call him a prince, though of course it’s not the same. More like a laird who’s struck it lucky when deer-stalking or something. His old man could buy this country.”
“I expect he has,” said Gerry with uncharacteristic feeling. “Nobody else would.”
“You mean his father’s really rich, Fido?”
“Billions. Well. Mustn’t let the old gluteus maxima get a chill. Sophy, you two—I’m free for a bit round about four. Tea in the village? Scones? Home-made stuff?”
Before Gerry could answer, Sophy accepted.
“Super, Fido!”
“The Copper Kettle then. About half an hour. See you.”
“We’ll be there.”
Fido gave her a last expanded pupil then bounded off up the track. He chased the little boys about and made noises like a dog tormenting cows. The little boys responded with mooing and shrieks of laughter. Fido was evidently popular. Sophy stared after him.
“They actually spend their time lifting up weights?”
“For God’s sake, you saw them on the box!”
“So I did.”
“Dear thing, you’re not into the modern scene.”
She saw that for all his twinship he was irritated by the traffic in pupils and she was pleased and amused.
“Don’t be dumb, Gerry. It couldn’t have happened better.”
“I’d forgotten what a thick oaf he is. Christ.”
“He’s our way in.”
“Yours, you mean.”
“You agreed to it.”
“I’m only just beginning to find out what we’ve taken on. You heard what he said. They’ll have the works here, the complete works! We’re probably on tape already.”
“I don’t believe it.” She moved close to him. “You don’t know about being invisible, do you?”
“I’m a soldier. Try and find me when I want to hide.”
“Not just hiding. I’ve known it for these last three days.
We’re
invisible.
No, not because of some magic or other—though perhaps—but anyway; not because of magic; but just
because.
That he’s here and you know him. That I can—manage him—Sometimes there are coincidences; but sometimes the arrangement of things is—deliberate. I know about that.”
“Well I don’t.”
“When I was in the travel agency I did a lot of looking-up tables and things, and dates and numbers. I understand them. I really
do
understand them, you see, the way Daddy understands his chess and all that. I’m just not used to putting that kind of knowing into words. Perhaps it won’t go anyway. Listen. Those numbers. The girl who was there when I first got there. Well. She was a dim blonde. She was a smasher too. The manager knew how to pick them. Not all that good for business, but why should he worry? You’d have popped your eyes at her, my dear. But she, she was dim. D’you know? I watched her use tables to work out what ten per cent of a bill came to!”
“Just the way she should be. Keep a lot of chaps very happy.”
“The point is this. She had to fill in a date and it went, the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventy-
seventh
year; so it was seven, stroke, seven, stroke, seven, seven. Well. Alice filled it in, looked at it with her bulging great blue eyes, gave her idiotic laugh—the one the manager said was like a bird-trill—he was wet, he couldn’t keep his hands off anything; and she said, ‘It’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it?’”
Gerry turned away and began to walk down by the wire.
“So it was.”
“But—”
She ran after him, caught his arm and pulled him round.
“Don’t you see, dear, my, my lovely—it wasn’t! A coincidence comes out of the, the mess things are, the heap, the darkness and you can’t tell how—But these four sevens—you could see them coming and wave goodbye to them! It was the system—but coincidences—more than coincidences—”
“Honest to God, Sophy, I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Everything’s running down. Unwinding. We’re just—tangles.
Everything is just a tangle and it slides out of itself bit by bit towards something that’s simpler and simpler—and we can help it. Be a part.”
“You’ve got religion. Or you’re up the wall.”
“Being good is just another tangle. Why bother? Go on with the disentangling that will happen in any case and take what you can on the way. What it wants, the dark, let the weight fall, take the brake off—”
A truth appeared in her mind.
The
way
towards
simplicity
is
through
outrage.
But she knew he would not understand.
“It’s like the collapse of sex.”
“Sex, sex, there’s nothing like sex! Sex for ever!”
“Oh yes, yes! But not the way you mean—the way everything means, the long, long convulsions, the unknotting, the throbbing and disentangling of space and time on, on, on into nothingness—”
And she was there; without the transistor she was there and could hear herself or someone in the hiss and crackle and roar, the inchoate unorchestra of the lightless spaces.
“On and on, wave after wave arching, spreading, running down, down, down—”
The leaden roofs of the school came back into focus then moved out of it as she stared up into Gerry’s worried face.
“Sophy! Sophy! Can you hear me?”
That was why this vast body she inhabited was being moved backwards and forwards; and becoming known now as a girl’s body, and man’s hands shaking it by the shoulders.
“Sophy!”
She answered him with lips that could hardly move.
“Just a moment can’t you? I was speaking to—of—I was someone—”
His hands stilled but held her.
“Take it easy then. Better?”
“Nothing wrong.” As the words fell out of her mouth she saw how funny they were and started to giggle. “Nothing wrong at all!”
“We need a drink. My God, it was like—I don’t know what it was like!”
“You’re so wise, my dear!”
He was peering closely into her face.
“I didn’t approve one little bit, old soul. It was damned weird, I can tell you.”
With that, there was clear daylight, sun, breeze, downs, a known date and place.
“What did you call it?”
“Bloody worrying for a moment.”