by Ian Sansom
And I realised suddenly that she had attacked me for my own protection, not Alex’s. It was me she was seeking to save from the consequences of my actions. Stunned, I released my grip on the rock and turned to her.
‘Don’t!’ she cried. ‘Please, Sefton! Don’t!’
I looked at her – for the first time perhaps properly looked at her – and she looked back at me. But then there were shouts from behind, and I turned to see that the headmaster had now got to Alex, and that he had somehow dragged him down into the shallow waters and had his head under the waves, pressing down and down. I ran towards him as he stepped back as if in shock, his hands free, and Alex did not reappear. I dived under the surf and swam towards Alex’s body.
With all my remaining strength I dragged him back towards the shore, and then Miriam joined me and helped me drag him up onto the pebbles and I attempted to give him the kiss of life, the man who only moments previously I had been about to murder.
It was no good. Miriam was sobbing, her head upon Alex’s chest, and then suddenly she stopped, by instinct, and turned. She’d noticed something. It was Morley.
‘Father!’ she cried.
Morley was lying flat on the surfboard, fully clothed, frantically paddling out into the waves.
The headmaster, ahead of him, was swimming far out into the dark ocean.
They headed far out, too far to be reached.
And then there was only the sound of the water.
Alexander – Alex, X – Standish
CHAPTER 22
BACK TO THE LIGHT
WE STAYED FOR AS LONG as was necessary to help the police with their enquiries. During the day Morley would work on his articles and on the book, writing and writing – his usual salve. Miriam stayed mostly in her room, and away from me – ditto. The police arrested and then charged a number of teachers, and most of the school’s benefactors. Dr Standish’s favourite, the inquisitive Michael Taylor, it was thought, had discovered the underground cave and had been punished – whether by Alex or by someone else it was not clear. Dr Standish’s body was found washed up near Budleigh Salterton. Mrs Dodds did not show her face. And as for the two Mrs Standishes? They simply disappeared. The Goodings claimed that old Mrs Standish had visited a place called the Crazwell Pool, near Princetown and – as superstition had it – she had seen who would be the next person in the area to die, and she went, taking her lizard-loving daughter-in-law with her. Morley remembered where he had seen her before: at a soirée at Watkins occult bookshop in Cecil Court in London. Bernhard, who appeared to be entirely blameless, took over as temporary headmaster. And as for me, during the day I took photographs for the book, and assisted Morley, who was uncharacteristically subdued, and in the evenings I would sit and drink cider with the Goodings at their farmhouse. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego turned out to be excellent companions. And then, on the third day, it was time to go.
We left All Souls, as we had arrived, in darkness.
The Lagonda was packed – everything minus the surfboards, which Morley had decided to donate to the school.
‘We could always wait until tomorrow?’ I suggested, as Miriam settled Morley into his seat in the back, and placed his typewriter on its plinth around him. I was rather keen still to see Mrs Dodds, in the hope that she might be keen to express her gratitude. But it was not to be.
Morley seemed to revive as soon as he was in the Lagonda.
‘Motoring all through the night,’ he said, ‘is one of the fifty-seven things that every man should do at least once in his lifetime, don’t you think, Sefton?’
‘Fifty-seven?’ asked Miriam. ‘Why fifty-seven, Father?’
‘No idea,’ said Morley. ‘It just came to me. Rather catchy though, isn’t it? The Fifty-Seven Things a Man Should Do in his Lifetime.’
Might this be another book coming on? I rather hoped so.
‘Take a note, Sefton,’ said Morley.
It was good to hear those words again.
We bade farewell to Bernhard, and to the Goodings, and to the pupils – many of them seemingly unaware of the events that had unfolded, and one can only hope that they really were unaware, and were ignorant, for in such a case as this ignorance truly is bliss – and so we began our journey home, swooping through valleys and up hills and through towns and villages.
‘What are you looking forward to then, Sefton, about getting back to Norfolk?’ asked Morley.
‘I’m—’
‘I’m looking forward to seeing the animals. And some good home-made marmalade. And a nice strong cup of Russian tea.’
‘Let him answer, Father, for goodness sake!’ cried Miriam.
After days of fresh air in Devon I was yearning for a delicious thick yellow London fog.
‘It’ll be nice to have a rest,’ I said.
‘Now, now, we have a lot of work to catch up on, I’m afraid,’ said Morley. ‘What is our motto?’
‘No shirking,’ I said.
‘No shilly-shallying,’ said Morley.
‘No funking,’ said Miriam.
Devon flew past, in darkness, and at great speed.
‘Goodbye to Devon!’ said Miriam. ‘And good riddance!’
‘We shouldn’t judge the place too harshly,’ said Morley. ‘Just because of …’ He was rarely lost for words, but this was one of those occasions.
‘I know, Father.’
‘I’ll certainly miss some of them,’ I said, perhaps not entirely appropriately. ‘The Goodings, they were a—’
‘I think Mrs Standish rather took a fancy to you, Father,’ said Miriam.
‘Old Mrs Standish?’
‘Young Mrs Standish.’
‘Alex’s wife?’ said Morley.
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Miriam.’
‘Probably an effect of the drugs,’ she added.
‘I must say I would rather have liked to have given her a monkey,’ said Morley.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miriam.
‘A monkey?’ I said.
‘A capuchin, I think. Terribly intelligent. One can still easily pick them up from Jamrach and Cross. They might have kept it in the school during winter and allowed it to run about during the summer. Plenty of space there. All they need is a little rice and some carrots, a few meal-worms, some minced chicken. They really do make excellent house pets. I can’t understand why more people don’t keep them, actually.’
‘Because a capuchin monkey is clearly not suitable as a house pet, Father!’ said Miriam. ‘That’s why people don’t keep them. It would be cruel and unnatural.’
‘But we have Sir Toby at home,’ said Morley.
‘Sir Toby?’ I said.
‘The damned monkey Father keeps in the hall.’
‘Ah.’ I recalled Sir Toby from the menagerie at St George’s.
‘Monkeys are wild creatures, Father. They are not pets. They are not intended to be kept as pets.’
‘But you’re very fond of Sir Toby, aren’t you?’
‘That’s beside the point, Father.’
‘I do think some of these modern ideas are very unhelpful you know. I knew a chap once who kept a rhino as a pet. Excellent beast. Tame, affectionate, most engaging little creature – this was in East Africa, of course. And a lion, also perfectly reasonable.’
‘This is England, Father, not East Africa.’
‘Well, more’s the pity,’ said Morley. ‘If it means we can’t enjoy the company of God’s creatures, as he clearly intended. Is that the North Star? Astronomically …’
The conversation seemed to be back to its usual form.
Miriam revved the engine and glanced across at me.
‘Shouldn’t we slow down?’ I said.
‘Nonsense!’ cried Miriam.
‘I think statistics show that most street accidents in London occur at speeds of less than 10 mph,’ said Morley.
‘But we’re not in London,’ I pointed out, as hedges and verges flew past.
; ‘Precisely,’ he said. ‘Nothing to fear. Absolutely nothing.’
In all our years together we rarely spoke of Devon again, and never of the events that had unfolded at All Souls. I never asked Miriam about Alex, and I never asked Morley about Dr Standish. But there is a passage in The County Guides: Devon about the caves of Beer that speaks perhaps as clearly about Morley’s feelings for his friend as any outpouring or encomium. ‘One should take care in the caves not to lose one’s bearings. It is easy to do so, and difficult to find one’s way back to the light. For this reason one should never venture into the caves alone, but ensure that one always sets out with a trusted companion.’
Dr Standish – trusted companion
In the third of The County Guides, Westmorland is the destination …
SWANTON MORLEY, the People’s Professor, sets off on the Great North Road to the ancient county of Westmorland. But tragedy strikes: a train crash, followed by the murder of a young woman. Are the two incidents connected – and if so, how? Does the answer to the mystery lie with the raggle-taggle gypsies befriended by Morley? Or with the close-knit community of railwaymen on the Settle–Carlisle line?
Morley’s assistant Stephen Sefton finds himself increasingly haunted by his past. And Morley’s daughter Miriam once again attracts an unsuitable suitor.
Join Swanton Morley, Miriam and Sefton in Westmorland for a tale of railways, wrestling, and gypsy lore…
PICTURE CREDITS
Images on the frontispiece and image 12 are from Arthur Mee’s King’s England guide to Devon. Reproduced by kind permission. www.kingsengland.com
All other images supplied by the author.
The author and the publishers are committed to respecting the intellectual property rights of others and have made all reasonable efforts to trace the copyright owners of the images reproduced, and to provide an appropriate acknowledgement in the book.
In the event that any copyright material is not properly credited the author and the publishers will endeavour to rectify this.
Have you read…?
THE NORFOLK MYSTERY
IAN SANSOM
The first of
THE COUNTY GUIDES
Spanish Civil War veteran Stephen Sefton is flat broke. So when he sees a mysterious advertisement for a job where ‘intelligence is essential’, he applies.
Thus begins Sefton’s association with Professor Swanton Morley, autodidact. Morley intends to write a history of England, county by county. His assistant must be able to tolerate his every eccentricity – and withstand the attentions of his beguiling daughter, Miriam.
The trio begin the project in Norfolk, but when the vicar of Blakeney is found hanging from his church’s bell rope, they find themselves drawn into a fiendish plot. Did the Reverend really take his own life, or was it – murder?
FOURTH ESTATE • London
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For previous acknowledgements see The Truth About Babies (Granta Books, 2002), Ring Road (Fourth Estate, 2004), The Mobile Library: The Case of the Missing Books (Harper Perennial, 2006), The Mobile Library: Mr Dixon Disappears (Harper Perennial, 2006), The Mobile Library: The Delegates’ Choice (Harper Perennial, 2008), The Mobile Library: The Bad Book Affair (Harper Perennial, 2010), Paper: An Elegy (Fourth Estate, 2012) and The Norfolk Mystery (Fourth Estate, 2013). These stand, with exceptions. In addition I would like to thank the following. (The previous terms and conditions apply: some of them are dead; most of them are strangers; the famous are not friends; none of them bears any responsibility.)
3rd Bangor Boys’ Brigade, Eric Akoto, Francesca Arcieri, the Association of British Counties, Seb Averill, Albert Bandura, Bangor Orthodontics, Tom Berry, Billy the painter, James Blunt’s Twitter feed, the Boiler Room, Dan Boland, Andrew Bovingdon, Serena Bowman, Gwyneth Box, David Boyles, Charlie Bromley, Rob Brydon, Grace Cain, Grace Carlini, Jordan Charles, Cinemagic (Belfast), the Clandeboye Lodge Hotel, Tom Clayton, Claire Collins, Company Pictures, Simon Critchley, Charles Dantzig, Bette Davis, Matthew Dodds, Martin Doyle, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Farriers, Flybe, David Gallacher, Cathy Galvin, William H. Gass, Tom Gatti, Lauren Gibb, Antonello Guerrera, Jim Henson, Sebastian Horsley, Ibis (Coventry), Nicolas Jaar, Howard Jacobson, Charlotte Jones, Kevin Kohan, Francis Kolinsky, Robert Lacey, Alessio Lana, Lisa Landrum, Tim Leach, Hari Mackinnon, Conor Mahon, Mammal Disco, Stephen Maxam, Ross McConaughy, Patrick McGuinness, Conor McKay, Sean McSweeney, Melia White-house Hotel, Joe Milutis, James Minihane, David Moore, Stephanie Moore, Stephen Moore, Paul Moran, Casey Neistat, Will Nott, the staff of the No.1 Lounge (Birmingham Airport), Open House Festival Bangor, Lillie Parmar, Jill Partington, Liese Perrin, Steve Peters, Natalie Pollard, Propertynewsni.com, the staff of the Rabbit Rooms, Holly Race, Man Ray, Penny Rimbaud, Liz Rosenberg, Lucy Santos, Gianmarco Senatore, Stephen Shapiro, David Shields, Viktor Shklovsky, Alexander Smith, Octavia Stocker, Mariusz Szczygiel, Peter Tarnofsky, Mark Tavender, Jill Thomson, Chris Todd, John Truby, the staff of the Ulster Hospital A & E Department (again), Jana Viarta, Michael Watkinson, Lucas Whitaker, Andrew Williams, Peter Wilson, John Yorke, Alice Yousef.
Also by Ian Sansom
The Norfolk Mystery
Paper: An Elegy
The Truth About Babies
Ring Road
The Mobile Library: The Case of the Missing Books
The Mobile Library: Mr Dixon Disappears
The Mobile Library: The Delegates’ Choice
The Mobile Library: The Bad Book Affair
The Enthusiast Almanack
The Enthusiast Field Guide to Poetry
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