The Magus, A Revised Version Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    ‘ Things. Reception mostly. ’
    ‘ Hotels? ’
    ‘ Anything. ’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘ I ’ ve applied for a new job. Air hostess. That ’ s why I went off polishing French and Spanish these last weeks. ’
    ‘ Can I take you out tomorrow? ’
    A heavy Australian in his thirties came and leant against a door-jamb opposite. ‘ Oh Charlie, ’ she cried across the room, ‘ he ’ s just lent me his bath. It ’ s nothing. ’
    Charlie nodded his head slowly, then pointed an admonitory stubby finger. He pushed himself vertical and went unsteadily away.
    ‘ Charming. ’
    She turned over her hand and looked at the palm.
    ‘ Did you spend two and a half years in a Jap prisoner-of-war camp? ’
    ‘ No. Why? ’
    ‘ Charlie did. ’
    ‘ Poor Charlie. ’
    There was a silence.
    ‘ Australians are boors, and Englishmen are prigs. ’
    ‘ If you – ’
    ‘ I make fun of him because he ’ s in love with me and he likes it. But no one else makes fun of him. If I ’ m around. ’
    There was another silence.
    ‘ Sorry. ’
    ‘ That ’ s okay. ’
    ‘ About tomorrow. ’
    ‘ No. About you. ’
    Gradually, though I was off ended at having been taught a lesson in the art of not condescending, she made me talk about myself. She did it by asking blunt questions, and by brushing aside empty answers. I began to talk about being a brigadier ’ s son, about loneliness, and for once mostly not to glamourize myself but simply to explain. I discovered two things about Alison: that behind her blunt-ness she was an expert coaxer, a handler of men, a sexual diplomat, and that her attraction lay as much in her candour as in her having a pretty body, an interesting face, and knowing it. She had a very un-English ability to flash out some trut h, some seriousness, some quick surge of interest. I fell silent. I knew she was watching me. After a moment I looked at her. She had a shy, thoughtful expression; a new self.
    ‘ Alison, I like you. ’
    ‘ I think I like you. You ’ ve got quite a nice mouth. For a prig. ’
    ‘ You ’ re the first Australian girl I ’ ve ever met. ’
    ‘ Poor Pom. ’
    All the lights except one dim one had long ago been put out, and there were the usual surrendered couples on all available furniture and floor-space. The party had paired off . Maggie seemed to have disappeared, and Charlie lay fast asleep on the bedroom floor. We danced. We began close, and became closer. I kissed her hair, and then her neck, and she pressed my hand, and moved a little closer still.
    ‘ Shall we go upstairs? ’
    ‘ You go first. I ’ ll come in a minute. ’ She slipped away, and I went up to my flat. Ten minutes passed, and then she was in the doorway, a faintly apprehensive smile on her face. She stood there in her white dress, small, innocent-corrupt, coarse-fine, an expert novice.
    She came in, I shut the door, and we were kissing at once, for a minute, two minutes, pressed back against the door in the darkness. There were steps outside, and a sharp double rap. Alison put her hand over my mouth. Another double rap; and then another. Hesitation, heart-beats. The footsteps went away.
    ‘ Come on, ’ she said. ‘ Come on, come on. ’

 

     

    4
    It was late the next morning when I woke. She was still asleep, with her naked brown back turned away from mc. I went and made some c off ee and took it into the bedroom. She was awake then, staring at me over the top of the bedclothes. It was a long expressionless look that rejected my smile and ended abruptly in her turning and pulling the bedclothes over her head. I sat beside her and tried rather amateurishly to discover what was wrong, but she kept the sheet pulled tight over her head; so I gave up patting and making noises and went back to my c off ee. After a while she sat up and asked for a cigarette. And then if I would lend her a shirt. She wouldn ’ t look me in the eyes. She pulled on the shirt, went to the bathroom, and brushed me aside