Stepping Westward

by Malcolm Bradbury

  ‘How are you doing?’ shouted Julie from the other side of the partition. ‘I’ve got my suit on.’ Walker took off his underpants and looked down at his shivering body, at his puny arms and graceless paunch, and hastily picked up and put on a pair of undershorts with green porpoises etched on them. ‘Come on,’ said Julie, banging on the door. Walker went outside. The winter night wind hit him hard and raised up goose-pimples. Julie, already standing by the pool in a rather slack red one-piece swimsuit, shouted, ‘Get in quick, Mr Walker, it’s cold.’ He watched as she poised her arms in the air, and then tossed her long lithe body into the water. ‘Oh, it’s great,’ she said, surfacing. ‘It’s the most splendid sensation, really.’ Walker, who couldn’t dive, hurried over to the pool and slid into it, scratching the backs of his legs on the concrete edge. The pool was painfully hot, but the bits of him sticking out of it, his head and neck and his hands, were, equally, painfully cold. His meal felt heavy in his stomach and his scratched buttocks hurt. ‘Isn’t it great?’ said Julie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Walker.

  ‘You don’t swim too well, do you, Mr Walker? Don’t you like getting your hair wet?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ said Walker, in cavalier fashion, though he did. Miss Snowflake’s expectations of him, always strong, seemed to have risen. His success in the American press had got him into an exciting position with her, but one that, with his pain in his legs and stomach, he doubted he could live up to. But her sweet young face, and her cool inquisitive concern, made him want to do nothing more than to try.

  They swam to the deep end of the pool, Julie fast and gracefully, Walker slow and gracelessly. When they reached the end they held on to the edge and looked at each other. ‘Oh, Mr Walker, I’m very pleased to see you,’ said Julie.

  ‘You look very pretty,’ said Walker.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Julie. ‘This swimsuit’s practically falling off me and I’ve lost my tan. I’ll say I look pretty.’

  ‘Let it fall off,’ said Walker, breathing hard, and he pushed himself forward in the water and kissed her. This made him lose his grip on the side and he disappeared beneath the surface. When he spluttered up, Julie said, ‘I like you doing that, but I’m afraid you’ll drown. I was wondering. Have you ever made love in a swimming pool?’

  ‘I can’t say I have.’

  ‘I wonder how it is a lot of kids like doing it in showers, but I guess a swimming pool is something else again. I always think there’s something sexy about being in water, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Walker.

  ‘We’d probably both drown,’ Julie went on. ‘At the height of our relationship. Might be fun.’

  ‘I’m sure I would,’ said Walker.

  ‘You know why? You don’t trust the water.’

  ‘I don’t sag,’ said Walker.

  ‘That’s right. You remember,’ said Julie. ‘Take a look at that stomach of yours. That’s not healthy fat. You should see mine.’

  ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘Well, just feel it.’ Walker felt the stomach; it was splendidly firm.

  ‘You should train,’ said Julie. Walker ran his hand up and inside the top of Julie’s swimsuit. ‘They’re too tiny,’ said Julie, ‘I wish they’d fill out more. Big but neat, that’s how I like them.’

  ‘I like them like this,’ said Walker.

  ‘Hi hi,’ said a voice from the pool-side darkness.

  ‘Oh, that friend of yours,’ said Julie, wriggling away. ‘You know something? He may be a nice guy and all, but he’s a bully.’

  ‘Bernard? Yes, I suppose he is. He’s a kind man really, though. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.’

  ‘Okay, but he’s still a bully. He’s the kind of guy who’ll splash water on us.’

  ‘Look out,’ said Froelich, and he squirted a hose of cold water on them both from the other side of the pool.

  ‘Hey, Dr Froelich, Jesus,’ said Julie. ‘Don’t be a spoiler. Didn’t you just know he’d do that?’

  ‘I thought you needed cooling off,’ said Froelich.

  ‘Maybe we did,’ said Julie, ‘but not that way.’ The spray of cold water had added to Walker’s feelings of ill-health. His head was beginning to reel. ‘Hey, get us a drink,’ said Julie. ‘Bring us some martinis.’

  ‘Righty righty,’ said Froelich.

  ‘He shouldn’t have asked me those questions,’ said Julie, when Froelich had gone inside.

  ‘No,’ said Walker.

  ‘What did you think of the answers, though?’

  ‘I liked them.’

  ‘Well, it’s real hard to answer when you’re put on the spot like that, but I guess I was pretty frank. Didn’t you think I played it cool?’

  ‘Did you mean them?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Walker, you know how I tell the truth. I’m committed to truth, I told you that on the ship. It’s beautiful, you know? And I’ll tell you more truth still, Mr Walker. I came out here to see you. My brother, well, I can see him any time at home.’

  ‘To see me?’ cried Walker. ‘Why?’

  ‘It was seeing your picture in the paper. I was mad at you when you got off the ship. Because you didn’t tell me you were married. So I told the girl to tell you I was out when you called. I was right there by the phone.’

  ‘The truth,’ said Walker. ‘What about the truth?’

  ‘Well, that was imaginatively true, I was out as far as you were concerned. And then I started thinking a lot. I read your books again. I thought, This man is a conniver and he doesn’t know how to live even, but there’s real aspiration there. You can help him. And then you did that, came out against the oath. I admired it; I thought it was really fine. You know me, writers don’t snow me as a general rule, I’ve seen so many of them. But I did think well of that. Not just because of what you said; it’s said all the time. But because you said it, in spite of your difficulties. I knew it was hard for you. I thought it showed you’d really come on.’

  ‘I thought that too, but it wasn’t quite so simple.’

  ‘But you did it. I once asked one of my teachers at Hillesley, this funny old lady who looked so wise, I asked: “Can you improve your character by trying?” She thought a bit and said: “No.” I didn’t want to believe her but I thought she might be right. But I understood that you don’t believe that. You gave me hope.’

  ‘No, I don’t believe that.’

  Julie stretched her legs out in front of her and floated on the water. ‘Just checking I still had my suit on,’ she said. ‘You know, I was wondering. What do you plan to do over the Christmas vacation?’

  ‘Stay here.’

  ‘Any special reason?’

  ‘No, unambitiousness. Except I have an invitation to Christmas dinner.’

  ‘Can you break it?’

  ‘It’s with the Froelichs.’

  ‘Ditch them,’ said Julie.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Well, I thought I might put an invitation to you. You don’t have to accept, but it’s one of those brainstorm things that occurred to me. Why don’t you come out west with me?’

  ‘With you?’ cried Walker.

  ‘Yes, with me. I’m not going anywhere special, not meeting anybody. I’m just travelling around on my own really, taking in my country. And I could use a little company, especially if it’s yours, Mr Walker. To share the writer’s eye. I’m sure you could teach me what all these mountains and deserts mean, if you wanted to.’

  ‘I certainly do want to,’ said Walker.

  ‘Then shake,’ said Julie, ‘you’ve struck a bargain.’ Walker took one hand off the edge, slipping a little into the water, and they shook. ‘How long is your vacation?’ asked Julie.

  ‘A fortnight.’

  ‘And what may that mean?’

  ‘Two weeks. I felt so pleased I forgot I was in the States.’

  ‘You thought you were back home with your wife, didn’t you, Mr Walker?’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Well, ok
ay, two weeks. Good, so’s mine, only I have to get right back to the east coast. So I’ll drop you by here a couple of days before, if that sounds all right.’

  ‘It sounds fine.’

  ‘You’re not just being polite about this? Because I didn’t know whether to make this invitation or not.’

  Walker, trying hard not to think of Elaine, said: ‘I’m not being polite at all. When do you start?’

  ‘Oh, any time,’ said Julie. ‘Right now, if you like.’

  ‘Here are your drinkies,’ said Froelich behind them; they took the glasses and began to drink. ‘Oh, what a sensation,’ said Julie. ‘It’s everything. What more do we want?’ At the other end a few people had come into the pool. Dean French swam toward them.

  ‘Let’s see you swim,’ he said to Miss Snowflake.

  ‘Okay, here goes,’ said Julie, letting go of the side and breast-stroking for the other end.

  ‘That’s a very fine girl,’ said Dean French, holding to the edge next to Walker. ‘Why is it that foreigners always manage to find out the best we’ve got?’

  There was a shout from Julie at the far end: ‘Hey, it’s snowing,’ she cried. And it was; large soft flakes dropped silently out of the dark sky above them and melted into the water of the pool.

  It was a mysterious, odd sight, and Walker said: ‘It’s really beautiful.’

  Dean French said, ‘That’s right, you know what we do when it snows? We get out of the hot pool and roll in the snow. Sauna. Only the flagellation is omitted. And we can lay that on too for anyone who wants it.’

  ‘Very nice,’ said Walker.

  ‘You know, this place may not be anything very much academically, but it really does have its pleasures,’ said Dean French.

  ‘Yes, when it snows like this, it makes me wish I could spend my life here.’

  ‘I’m very glad to hear you say that,’ said Dean French. ‘Makes me glad we’re not going to fire you.’

  ‘Oh, you’re not?’ said Walker, deeply relieved. ‘That’s what I’ve been wanting to know.’

  ‘Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that, maybe everyone was planning to keep you on the hook a little, but I’m too drunk to care.’

  ‘The meeting went in my favour, then,’ said Walker.

  ‘Very much,’ said Dean French. ‘Want to hear about it?’

  ‘Very much,’ said Walker.

  ‘Well, I don’t know why I’m building you up so much, when you’re running around with the nicest girl I’ve seen in years, but okay. I’ll have to treat you to some history first.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Walker. ‘I can even manage that.’

  ‘Well, it all goes back to the McCarthy period, when there were a lot of firings round here. A character called Leonov, who’s still at the U, but on leave this year, was behind that. So anyway, the local chapter of the AAUP rallied round, a bit late in the day, I have to admit, and they resolved democratically to support the principle that college teachers shouldn’t be forced to declare their political allegiance, by oath or any other means, and they shouldn’t be fired on solely political grounds. The AAUP here has taken that line ever since, and we’ve put a hell of a lot of pressure on the college admin at different times to withdraw the state oath. The last president, who was a lazy but very well-meaning guy, finally agreed to do that, but he was caught up between the faculty and the regents and the regents finally got at him and he resigned, quit.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Then we got Coolidge. Of course, he tried to play it all ways but the point is he never fired anyone for disloyalty. You know that careful line he walks.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Walker, ‘I know it very well now.’

  ‘So you see you came in at the end of quite a battle. Now what happened after your crazy speech, which incidentally was pretty innocuous stuff, was that the Leonov faction got moving again. Another of the émigré wing, a man called Jochum, presented a petition asking the college to affirm in favour of the oath.’

  ‘How did Jochum get tied up with these people?’ asked Walker.

  ‘Oh, he’s a friend of Leonov’s, they have sad Russian pasts in common. Jochum wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s carrying the can for Leonov. So our friend Bernie got up at the meeting and accused the petitioners of prejudicing the AAUP stand. Jochum tried to fight him, but the point is that the meeting supported Bernie. So then Bernie moved that the meeting counter-petition the university to come out in opposition to the oath. Now obviously it can’t do this, because of the state backing, but Bernie proposed it as a gesture, to repudiate the Jochum petition. So we approved it. Then there was a big scene. Coolidge saw Jochum and Bernie on Monday and condemned the first petition, so Bernie withdrew his. Then Jochum resigned and that’s it.’

  ‘Jochum resigned?’

  ‘Yes, he resigned, quit his job.’

  ‘But he loved it here.’

  ‘He had no choice, he was really out on a limb,’ said Dean French. ‘He’ll find a post somewhere else.’

  ‘But that’s terrible. I stay and he goes.’

  ‘But more terrible for him than you,’ said Dean French, diving into the water and swimming toward Julie.

  Walker hung in the water, clinging to the edge, his head sticking out of the water, decked out with snow. The storm of flakes blew down into the pool. The story he had just been told possessed him with horror. He had always had a taste for and a deep regard for the pathetic, the sad people of this world who through lack of energy or charm or tact, or through external misfortunes, failed at what they did. His friend Dr Jochum, like Miss Marrow, like perhaps Patrice, belonged to this body. Jochum, who had been expelled from his country, Jochum who had drifted without a nationality, Jochum who had been taken in here and there for a while and then dropped again, Jochum who had so often said to Walker ‘Beggars cannot be choosers’, had lost the grip on his security and happiness that he had only just recently found. His own part in this was obscure, but he had a part; through lack of insight, through political ignorance, through his blundering approach to life, he had deprived him of his hard-gained possessions. The causes involved were too mild to matter here. And what was most distressing was that his own part was so vague, so that he could not know where to start taking measurements. And then something darker occurred to him, as he looked up at the snow; it was, this is why I was brought here, this is what I was appointed to do, this is what I am all about. This was Froelich’s end in view; this was why his name had been proposed, why the letter had come to him in Nottingham, why he had given his speech, why he had slept with Patrice, why he had heard from Froelich nothing about the meeting. There were gaps in the story, unaccountable; it could not have been certain, after all, that he would behave as he did, that he would have been so docile throughout. In fury he dived away from the side and toward the other end: he wanted to leave Party, to take Julie Snowflake and go. He pulled as hard as he could through the water, and felt something unfortunate happening; his over-large shorts had slid down his legs and were pinioning his feet together. He began to sink. People stood round the side of the pool; his face looked up at them in horror. He heard Froelich, on the side, say: ‘The day he arrived in Party he didn’t even want to take his goddam neck-tie off.’ Then he went under.

  The next thing was that someone was pulling him up to the surface; it was Bernard Froelich, who had walked into the pool fully dressed. Walker touched bottom with his feet and stood upright, choking, his stomach hurting. He looked down and saw his exposed privates and reached down to pull up his shorts. ‘Thanks,’ he said to Froelich.

  ‘We nearly lost you then, Jamie,’ said Froelich. ‘Come on, I think you’d better get out.’

  ‘Are you all right, Mr Walker?’ asked Julie.

  ‘It’s lucky he was in the shallow end,’ said Froelich. ‘He swallowed nearly half the pool.’

  ‘Bring him inside,’ said Dean French. ‘We’ll give him some brandy.’ Walker let himself be led, shivering, through the cold air into the house. His stom
ach now pained him a great deal, and the cold made him feel faint, but the biggest pain was the profound embarrassment of his indecent exposure. Froelich sat him down in a canvas chair and knocked the pat of snow from his head. Beyond the windows, in the pool lights, the snow whirled. Froelich stood over him, urgent, concerned, but beneath the honest emotion was something else, Walker knew. He could think of nothing more to say to him.

  ‘Drink this, Mr Walker,’ said Julie, still in her red swimsuit, holding a glass of brandy. She put her arm round his shoulders.

  ‘Look,’ said Walker, ‘I wanted to ask you. Let’s go, now. Let’s leave this place. I’ve had enough.’ He spoke in a low voice into her ear, to avoid Froelich’s overhearing.

  ‘You ought to rest a while,’ said Julie.

  ‘No, I want to go. Can you get my clothes?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Julie, ‘I’ll get them.’

  ‘You’ll have to be careful, Jamie,’ said Froelich. ‘You’re a precious possession. We don’t want you to die while you’re here.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Walker.

  ‘Good oh,’ said Froelich.

  Walker took his clothes when Julie brought them and went into the bathroom. He coughed up some water into the bowl and then felt better. When he came out, Julie was dressed, and had her car keys in her hand. ‘I’m taking him back,’ she said.

  ‘Want me to come?’ asked Froelich.

  ‘No,’ said Walker, ‘I’m fine now.’

  When they got into the car, Walker said: ‘Let’s leave this town now.’

  ‘Go west?’ asked Julie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Walker.

  ‘I’ll have to get my luggage,’ said Julie.

  ‘I have to get mine too. Drop me at the Froelichs’ and I’ll be ready when you get back.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Julie. When he got back to the Froelichs’ empty house, Walker hurried round and packed his bags. It was about three-thirty, and it was just getting light. A bird was singing somewhere. Afraid that the Froelichs might come home, he climbed out of the window like an adulterer and hid himself and his bags in the bushes, which flipped snow over him. The bottom of the sky was pink and there was pinkness on the white of the mountains. The long plain was also touched with white, but the snowfall had stopped. One speeding car passed down the street. Then, presently, the black Volkswagen crept round the corner and stopped.