“Stop it, Nick, stop it!” cried Toby. He stood right before him with clenched fists and a burning face.
“I’ve seen you at it,” said Nick. “I’ve seen your love life in the woods, tempting our virtuous leader to sodomy and our delightful penitent to adultery. What an achievement! So young and so extremely versatile!” He drank some more from the bottle.
“Get out of the way!” said Toby. He was almost incoherent with distress and anger and fear. “It’s nothing to do with you.”
“Isn’t it?” said Nick. “After all, we’re supposed to be looking after each other, aren’t we? We are members one of another. You never bothered to look after me, but I take my responsibilities more seriously. I can hold the mirror up to you as well as the next man. What are you going to do about it? That’s what I want to know. And what about your little frolic with the bell? Oh yes, I know all about the bell too, and that faked-up miracle you’re planning with your female sweetheart.”
“Shut up!” cried Toby. He advanced on Nick and began pulling at the table. Nick uncurled his legs but still sat there laughing. Toby was unable to move the table.
“Wretched child,” said Nick. “I told you you’d have to stay till the end. I wonder if you have any idea of the harm you’re causing? To poor Michael for instance. But as for Michael his cup is filling and will soon run over, though not in the way the psalmist meant. Do you think you can play fast and loose like that with a religious man? Perhaps you think he smothers you with kisses and then goes to the Communion table with a light heart? You are busy destroying a man’s faith, undermining his life, preparing his ruin – and even then you can’t give it all your attention but start playing charades with a bloody bitch!”
“Oh stop, stop, stop!” shouted Toby. He plunged forward seizing Nick by the shoulder, meaning to pull him from his perch. Nick immediately gripped the boy about the neck and they fell struggling to the floor. Murphy began to whine and then to bark. Nick was the stronger.
“Shut up, Murphy, you’re in church!” said Nick. Nick had now got one of Toby’s arms twisted behind him and bis knee braced in the boy’s back. Toby’s head was pressed lower and lower.
“Down, down, that’s right,” said Nick in his ear. This is the confessional, only you needn’t bother with your confession as I know it all. It’s someone else you’ve got to tell the tale to, someone who hasn’t heard it yet. The joys of penitence await you, Toby. Meanwhile, have a swig of this in remembrance of me.” He tried to turn Toby over, and reaching up for the whisky bottle poured a little of the whisky on to Toby’s lips.
Like a spring released the boy began to struggle. The bottle fell between them and broke. They rolled across the floor upsetting Murphy’s dish of water and rolling into the remains of his supper. Splashed with water, whisky, and gravy they fought among the chaos of old newspapers and broken glass. Nick was still the stronger.
Toby lay quiet. He was on his back now and Nick’s face was above him. In this position they rested, both panting. Nick looked down at him and smiled. “Poor child,” he said, “it hurts me to do this, believe me it does. But I am made to be a scourge to certain men. You wouldn’t understand. But at least I hope you’ve seen the point of my sermon. You’re going to get up now and set your clothes to rights and then you’re going to go like a good boy and make your confession to the only available saint, indeed the only available man, and that is James Tayper Pace. Up you get.”
Nick rose and Toby staggered to his feet, brushing down his clothing. He looked at Nick, dazed and appalled.
“I wish I could congratulate you on your truthful disposition,” said Nick, “but the fact is that you have little choice. If by tomorrow you haven’t had your little talk with James and told him everything I shall feel it my duty to make a statement. And by a happy law of nature, however low one wants to grovel one never paints oneself quite as black as the unprejudiced and unsympathetic spectator can paint one. Another of the charms of confession. Felix culpa, felix Toby! Now go. And don’t let your anger against me stop you from seeing that what I say is just. Go, go, go.”
Nick pulled the table away from the door and opened it. Toby stood for another moment, his hand raised to his face. Nick gave him a light push between the shoulders. He inclined forward as if he were going to fall and bolted out into the night.
CHAPTER 22
IT was still raining but the wind had dropped. A soft sizzle of fine rain made the night more obscure and deadened all other sounds. It was after three o’clock.
Dora stood alone in the barn, close to the bell. She reached out every now and then and touched it, for company and to make sure it was still there. Earlier on, by the light of Toby’s electric torch, she had attempted with soap, water, and a sharp knife to clean the bell. She had managed to prize away a good deal of mud and gravel, but many strange growths still adhering to the surface seemed to have the hardness of metal. For the last half-hour however Dora had done nothing but wait. She had arrived well before two, since for fear of being delayed by Paul she had not gone up to bed. Paul would know soon enough that he had misjudged her. She had hidden herself elsewhere in the house, dozing in a chair, and then had made her way through the rain to the barn.
At first she had been quite certain that Toby would come. Even though she had not managed to communicate with him during the day, he would know when and where to appear; and it had at least been agreed that he should bring the second steel trolley with him direct to the barn. When by halfpast two he had not arrived Dora had imagined that he might have had difficulty getting the trolley out of the stable yard, and she walked back that far to see. The stable yard was deserted and the trolley still in its place, though Dora noticed uneasily that there were two lights on in the house, one in her and Paul’s bedroom, and the other in another room which she could not identify, James’s or Michael’s perhaps. She left the trolley where it was and rushed back to the barn, feeling sure that she would now find Toby there; but he was not there.
Dora was wearing a mackintosh and a scarf, but she was already wet through. Her sandalled feet were cold and muddy and the water had splashed up over the end of her dress which now clung damply to her knees, impeding her movements. She stood shivering in the barn, frightened by the darkness and the close blanket of the rain, awed by the proximity of the bell, and feeling increasingly sure now that Toby would not come. She wondered whether she should go and look for him at the Lodge.
It had not escaped Dora that Noel Spens must obviously have imagined that the letter which she had dropped was intended for him; indeed its contents were perfectly framed to sustain this illusion. It was therefore probable that Noel would present himself near the Lodge at two; and this thought had deterred Dora from going earlier to search for Toby. By now, however, Noel would have got tired of waiting and gone to bed. It was surely safe to go to the Lodge; and in any case anything was better than hanging round in the barn frightened out of her wits and chilled to the marrow. Dora set out along the path.
The moon was obscured and the path was full of obstacles, but Dora knew her way pretty well by now and was indifferent to the briars and brambles which dragged at her legs. She could feel the warmth of blood about her ankles. When she emerged from the wood she did not go round the house to the ferry but turned right across the causeway. The two lights were still on; and as she looked ahead of her across the water she saw that there was a light in the Lodge too. This made her extremely uneasy.