Shine forth upon our clouded hills?’
The four young people were together again in the wild garden. Tom, after his second defeat, as he felt it to be, at the hands of Hattie, had hastened, with her, to seek for Emma and Pearl. Then they had walked on together and climbed into the ruined shell of the manor house which was filled with grass and buttercups and daisies and white-flowering nettles. Inside the irregular remains of the walls, which contained two fine Elizabethan windows, it felt odd and ghostly, as if, in spite of the bright sun, the place were twilit. In the grassy space which had been the great hall there was a curious echo, and Tom had persuaded Emma to sing, and Emma had sung Blake’s beautiful anthem. Emma had drunk as much whisky and Riesling as he could lay hands on at lunch, and this explained his readiness to sing, as well as the temerity of his conversation with Pearl. The sheer sudden force of the singing and the high sweet slightly rough piercing quality of the sound amazed and fascinated the two girls as Tom had intended. Looking at their rapt faces, he felt a sharp pang of envy. He was not always able to feel his friend’s gifts as his own.
‘I don’t understand the poem,’ said Hattie, after they had congratulated Emma. ‘Why is he asking “did those feet”?’
‘It’s a poem,’ said Tom. ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything exact. It’s a sort of rhetorical question. He’s just imagining Christ here.’
‘But perhaps he was here,’ said Emma. ‘Miss Meynell is right to notice the question. After all there is that legend — ’
‘What legend?’ said Tom.
‘That Christ was here.’
‘Where?’
‘Yes, in England, as a child. He came here as a child with his Uncle Joseph of Arimathea who was a tin merchant.’
‘Did he? Christ? Here?’
‘It’s a legend. Haven’t you ever heard it?’
‘No. But it’s wonderful!’ said Tom, suddenly transported. ‘And it could be true. Fancy Christ here, walking on our fields. It’s so - oh it’s so beautiful - and it’s great! He came with his Uncle Joseph of Arimathea as a child. Oh that makes me so happy!’
Emma laughed at him. ‘You’re easily excited by what every schoolboy knows!’
‘I didn’t know it,’ said Hattie.
‘I must go - I must run — ’
‘What for?’
‘I must tell somebody else, I must pass the news on! Oh I’m so pleased! I must run and run!’ With these words Tom vaulted over one of the low parts of the wall and ran across the ruined terrace littered with broken stone, leapt to the grass, and began to run away as fast as he could towards the sea down a long avenue of vast ragged yew trees which had once been yew hedges.
Left above with the girls, Emma felt annoyed, annoyed with Tom for deserting him, annoyed with himself for singing, annoyed with Pearl for having been the occasion of that silly conversation, and annoyed with Hattie for being, as he had got it into his head, a touchy stuck-up little miss. He said rather curtly, ‘We’d better get back now.’ They set off after Tom, walking in silence.
Tom ran fast, then becoming breathless ran more slowly. He ran along a footpath bordered by misty white cow-parsley which was just coming into flower. The footpath ended at a little tarmac road, and across the road was the field and the descending track where they had parked the cars, and the vast semi-circular rim of the sea framed on one side by the old black-and-white lighthouse, and on the other by the promontory and the house set upon it, Maryville, which was fully visible from the top of the field. A man was walking along the road, it was George.
Tom ran up and seized his brother’s arm, ‘Oh George, George, did you know? Christ was here. Oh, it’s a legend but it could be true. He was here in England like in Blake’s poem. I never understood it before. He came as a child with his Uncle Joseph of Arimathea who was a tin merchant! It could be true, couldn’t it? Fancy Christ here in England! Did you know?’
‘I knew of the legend,’ said George, detaching Tom’s arm, but gently.
‘Everybody knew but me. But now I know and it’s - like a revelation - it changes things. Oh George, I do want you to be all right, I’d do anything for you, I’ll pray for you, I do pray for you when I pray, I sort of pray, I suppose that’s what it is, I care for you so much. Stella will come home, everything will be all right again. I think I see that now. I hate to think of you wandering about alone and thinking. Don’t be alone and think terrible thoughts, will you, please. Something good will happen to you, something very good will come to you, I feel sure, I feel so sure — ’
‘Do you really pray for me?’ said George, smiling with his little blunt teeth. ‘I think that’s rather impertinent.’
‘Oh come and swim, come and swim with me now, like we used to. You know that would be good.’
‘We go different ways. Go on. And as for your friend, he was never here, you may be certain of that. Go on, go on.’
Adam had gone along the beach with Zed and discovered a place where a sort of river or gully of sand ran between the rocks right to the sea itself. Adam and Zed ran down to where the small waves were breaking. Adam took off his shoes and paddled. He knew that he was not supposed to go swimming by himself but it was so nice to be able to walk into the sea on gently shelving sand, instead of hobbling over stones and rocks. He was wearing his bathing trunks, and when the water was deep enough he sat down, then turned over and swam a stroke or two. The water was very cold, but Adam was used to that. He loved the taste of the salt. Zed stood on the sand well back from the foam. He disliked and feared the sea and did not want to get his fur splashed. He wished that Adam would come back. To cheer himself up he pawed a pebble, pushing it a little, but his heart was not in the game. Adam came back and picked Zed up. He thought Zed might like a little swim, he swam so well, and Adam was always strangely and deeply excited to see him swim. He took the dog out beyond the surf and let him down gently into the water, watching the dry white fur become wet and clinging, feeling the warm dog in the cold sea. He let Zed go and watched with joy as the little dog paddled along keeping his fastidious nose and high forehead well above the water. Zed could have let Adam know how much he hated it, but he felt he had to be brave because that is a dog’s duty, and had to pretend in order to please his master. Adam swam on a little bit and Zed followed, paddling with his strong little white paws, through the smooth glossy water which so quietly rose and fell. Adam played with Zed, encouraging him to ride on his shoulder. The sea felt warm now, and the blue sky blazed radiantly at them over the close horizon of the rhythmic waves.
Tom ran down on to the beach. Brian and Alex were searching for Alex’s watch. He ran up to them. ‘Did you know that Christ was in England?’
‘What?’ said Alex.
‘Christ was in England. It’s a legend. He came as a child with his Uncle Joseph of Arimathea who was a tin merchant.’
‘I’ve lost my watch,’ said Alex. ‘It dropped off somewhere here. Or was it here? We’ve moved.’
‘You search over there near that rock,’ said Brian. He was upset because he had been nasty to Gabriel, he had not tried to take in what she was saying, and when he followed her to the beach Alex had collared him and Gabriel had disappeared.
‘But did you know about Christ?’ said Tom. ‘It seems to me so extraordinary and so moving. Like in Blake’s poem. “And did those feet in ancient time …” I never understood it before.’
‘It’s impossible,’ said Brian.
‘But had you heard?’
‘The legend, yes, but it’s impossible, as your historical chum will tell you. Does he always drink so much? He reeled off positively sozzled.’