Read Online The Unicorn by Iris Murdoch - Free Book Online

woman.
     
‘Hello,’ said Marian.
     
The woman was dressed in honey-coloured local tweeds and had a sort of tall staff in her hand. It was evident, even before she spoke again, that she belonged to the ‘gentry’.
     
‘Are you Miss Taylor?’
     
‘Yes.’
     
‘I’m Alice Lejour.’ She held out her hand.
     
Marian shook it, recalling almost at once that Lejour was the name of the family at Riders. Scottow had said that the old man had his son and daughter with him. ‘I’m so glad to meet you.’ She wished all the same that she had some clothes on and could look a little more dignified. The scanty towel about her shoulders flopped in the wind.
     
Alice Lejour seemed to be in her thirties, a big handsome blue-eyed woman with short golden hair and a good straight nose and a wide rather lined brow. She seemed stout and solid and aggressively real, planted there with her tweed skirt strained against her legs and her wet brogues deep in the shingle. Marian felt flimsy before her as she danced from one bare foot to the other and tried to prevent her teeth from chattering.
     
‘I hear you’ve just come, yes,’ said Alice Lejour.
     
‘Yes, I don’t know the region. I like it very much.’ ‘Bit lonely for you, isn’t it?’
     
‘Well, yes, there’s not much company,’ said Marian, and then added defensively, ‘I like everyone at Gaze very much though.’ It looked awkward.
     
‘Hum. Never mind, yes. Will you come and see us?’
     
‘I’d love to,’ said Marian, realizing as she found herself liking the brusqueness of the woman how much, in the last few days, she had missed the presence of ordinary simple human reactions. Reactions at Gaze were slow and clouded.
     
‘We’ll have to work out a time,’ said Alice Lejour. ‘Don’t want to offend anyone. I don’t suppose they’re working you very hard, are they? Bit of luck meeting you down here, really. Some time next week perhaps when Effingham’s here. My friend Effingham Cooper, that is. Effingham and I do a little entertaining when he’s here and when there’s anyone to entertain. You know, people will drive fifty miles for a drink in this country.’
     
Marian, who had just realized that the curious staff was a fishing-rod, said, ‘But we’re such close neighbours. I hope we may often meet, with you or at Gaze.’
     
‘Not at Gaze, I shouldn’t think. Never mind, yes. Effingham and I will be splicing the old mainbrace next week. We feel it our duty to cheer my Pop up a little. He gets a bit odd over the winter-time, you know.’
     
‘He must be lonely. I believe you - and your brother - come just for part of the summer?’
     
‘Who told you that? Well, anyone might have, yes. He’s not a lonely man. God keeps him company through the winter. You and I must have a talk. When Effingham comes. We’ll send you a note, Effingham and I. I suppose that’s all right, sending you a note. Don’t want to offend anyone. I won’t keep you now, you’re shivering like a leaf. Enjoy your swim?’
     
‘I didn’t go in,’ said Marian, with a sudden sense of bitter shame. She was beginning to feel slightly bullied by this plump well-clad person. ‘I was afraid to,’ she added.
     
‘Wise of you, I dare say. I used to swim a lot around here before I got so fat. It’s getting in and out that’s tricky. Well, I’ll leave you to dress. Better not dally because of the tide. We’ll send you that note then. When Effingham comes. Cheerio.’
     
Marian saw her recede, squelching through the stones with firm strides. She was so cold now that she could scarcely get her clothes on, and was still chilled and shivering as she began to stumble back along the beach. A cold rainy wind was blowing, and she wished heartily that she had brought a sweater. She felt completely worn out. She looked at her watch and saw with horror that it was nearly a quarter to six. She began to run.
     
She passed the weedy pools, where she fell twice and cut her