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Authors: J. G. Ballard
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the priest’s suit across the bed, smiling as she stroked the fabric. ‘Why, Blake – are you going to leave yours to it? As a matter of fact, there is, in the vestry of the church. Father Wingate’s a keen palaeontologist. The Thames here apparently produces the most unusual specimens. Prehistoric creatures, fossil fish –’ she pushed my hair from my forehead ‘ – not to mention marooned pilots.’
‘The vestry roof – was it damaged in the storm?’
‘Yes, sadly.’ She leaned through the window and waved to someone on the lawn below. ‘The police are here.’
I leapt from the bed and stood naked behind her. Two uniformed policemen were crossing the lawn with Dr Miriam. As the three handicapped children played around the sergeant, he pointed to the cattle feeding in the meadow across the river. Obviously he knew that the Cessna had flown across the park on its way south from London Airport, but was unaware that the aircraft lay in the water no more than fifty feet from him. Its white ghost hovered below the sunlit surface.
‘Blake …’ Mrs St Cloud tried to calm me. ‘They won’t bother you.’
Confused, I was trying to decide whether to run for it, or bluff my way past the police. Miriam had stepped on to the narrow beach and stood there in her white coat, as if shielding the aircraft from the policemen while she made up her mind about me. The children followed her, squealing with forced excitement at the water, these threatening waves aroundtheir feet. They ran with outstretched arms, Rachel a small blind aircraft in formation between Jamie and David. Jamie rooted his leg-irons in the wet sand and squinted at the sky, hooting to the rhythm of the Cessna’s tailplane as it switched to and fro in the branches of the dead elm.
Mrs St Cloud caressed my shoulders, but I was looking at her daughter. Hands deep in her pockets, she gazed up at the window, shrewdly weighing my future in her steady eyes. She had released her hair from its tight bun, and this captive fleece now played freely around her shoulders, testing the river air like the eager birds I had seen in my dream. What beautiful and barbarous creature would she have become, some chimeric being to shock the morning air?
‘They’re going.’ Mrs St Cloud waved to the sergeant. ‘Heaven knows why they were here.’
I watched the policemen salute and walk back to their car. Mrs St Cloud was looking at the bruises on my chest. As she fondled my body, her eyes raiding my skin, I knew she was unaware of taking part in the unconscious conspiracy to guard me. The witnesses of my crash had constituted themselves as a protective family. Stark was my ambitious older brother, Miriam my bride. But if Mrs St Cloud had cast herself in the role of my mother, why was she so openly attracted to my sex? I remembered the tolerant way in which Miriam had watched her mother undress me the previous evening, well aware of her aroused sexuality.
Taking advantage of her, I pressed her hands to the bruises on my ribs. Her slim fingers barely spanned the blue profiles.
‘Mrs St Cloud – while I lay on the beach you were standing here. Did you see anyone revive me?’
She stroked my shoulder blades as if feeling for the stumps of my wings. ‘No, I don’t think anyone dared to. Blake, I was too frightened to think. You were in the water for so long. I know I attacked you – I was angry with you for being alive, when I’d already accepted that you were dead.’
‘I’m not dead!’ Angered, I pushed her away. ‘I ought to leave!’
‘No … You can’t leave now. Miriam says she’ll find you a job at the clinic’
She lowered her eyes to the floor as I placed my arms around her waist. I steered her from the window, like a naked mesmerist with a middle-aged woman in trance. After I undressed her we lay together on the bed. She hid her face against my chest, but I knew that she could smell my acrid odour, the tang of condor’s sebum which the strong
‘The vestry roof – was it damaged in the storm?’
‘Yes, sadly.’ She leaned through the window and waved to someone on the lawn below. ‘The police are here.’
I leapt from the bed and stood naked behind her. Two uniformed policemen were crossing the lawn with Dr Miriam. As the three handicapped children played around the sergeant, he pointed to the cattle feeding in the meadow across the river. Obviously he knew that the Cessna had flown across the park on its way south from London Airport, but was unaware that the aircraft lay in the water no more than fifty feet from him. Its white ghost hovered below the sunlit surface.
‘Blake …’ Mrs St Cloud tried to calm me. ‘They won’t bother you.’
Confused, I was trying to decide whether to run for it, or bluff my way past the police. Miriam had stepped on to the narrow beach and stood there in her white coat, as if shielding the aircraft from the policemen while she made up her mind about me. The children followed her, squealing with forced excitement at the water, these threatening waves aroundtheir feet. They ran with outstretched arms, Rachel a small blind aircraft in formation between Jamie and David. Jamie rooted his leg-irons in the wet sand and squinted at the sky, hooting to the rhythm of the Cessna’s tailplane as it switched to and fro in the branches of the dead elm.
Mrs St Cloud caressed my shoulders, but I was looking at her daughter. Hands deep in her pockets, she gazed up at the window, shrewdly weighing my future in her steady eyes. She had released her hair from its tight bun, and this captive fleece now played freely around her shoulders, testing the river air like the eager birds I had seen in my dream. What beautiful and barbarous creature would she have become, some chimeric being to shock the morning air?
‘They’re going.’ Mrs St Cloud waved to the sergeant. ‘Heaven knows why they were here.’
I watched the policemen salute and walk back to their car. Mrs St Cloud was looking at the bruises on my chest. As she fondled my body, her eyes raiding my skin, I knew she was unaware of taking part in the unconscious conspiracy to guard me. The witnesses of my crash had constituted themselves as a protective family. Stark was my ambitious older brother, Miriam my bride. But if Mrs St Cloud had cast herself in the role of my mother, why was she so openly attracted to my sex? I remembered the tolerant way in which Miriam had watched her mother undress me the previous evening, well aware of her aroused sexuality.
Taking advantage of her, I pressed her hands to the bruises on my ribs. Her slim fingers barely spanned the blue profiles.
‘Mrs St Cloud – while I lay on the beach you were standing here. Did you see anyone revive me?’
She stroked my shoulder blades as if feeling for the stumps of my wings. ‘No, I don’t think anyone dared to. Blake, I was too frightened to think. You were in the water for so long. I know I attacked you – I was angry with you for being alive, when I’d already accepted that you were dead.’
‘I’m not dead!’ Angered, I pushed her away. ‘I ought to leave!’
‘No … You can’t leave now. Miriam says she’ll find you a job at the clinic’
She lowered her eyes to the floor as I placed my arms around her waist. I steered her from the window, like a naked mesmerist with a middle-aged woman in trance. After I undressed her we lay together on the bed. She hid her face against my chest, but I knew that she could smell my acrid odour, the tang of condor’s sebum which the strong
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