His extreme stillness began at last to frighten her. She was reminded of stories of yogis and magicians. She began to wriggle backwards out of the tunnel of fern; and when she was able to stand upright she ran away with careful silent strides diagonally across the middle of the wood, regardless of peril. She had managed by now to frighten herself thoroughly, and wanted only to get to Donald’s room as quickly as possible. As she neared Prewett’s, Liffey made off among the trees. In a moment Felicity emerged at speed from some sheltering bushes and shot in through a small green back door into Prewett’s house. She paused a moment to listen. No pursuit and no sounds of imminent danger. She was in a disused cloakroom, which now served to store boys’ trunks and cricket gear. Distant sounds of laughter and banging echoed through the house. There was a stale smell of wood and damp concrete and old perspiration and sports equipment. Felicity moved forward into a dark space out of which some wooden stairs rose into an equally dark region above. She fled up these - hid while voices near by became suddenly loud and then died away - then shot like a hare down the adjoining corridor and straight in through the door of Donald’s room.
Donald was lying full length upon the table. The window was open, and one white clad foot was dangling somewhere outside. The other foot swung nonchalantly to and fro over the end of the table. His head was propped up on some books and a cricket pad. He was not alone. Underneath the table lay Jimmy Carde. Jimmy’s head was flat upon the floor and his feet were propped up on the arm of a chair. One hand was dug behind the back of his neck, while the other hand had hold of Donald’s ankle. At Felicity’s violent entrance they both jumped, saw who it was, and resumed their former postures.
Felicity was very disappointed at not finding Donald alone. She had never been able to make out Jimmy Carde; and since he had become her brother’s best friend a special hostility had existed between them.
‘Fella,’ said Donald, ‘I have told you six times, and must I tell you again, that you should not come in here to see me.’
‘No one spotted me,’ said Felicity. ‘I was very clever, the way I came through the wood. I spied on your art master. He was sitting there like fakir in a sort of trance.’
‘Bledyard will put the evil eye on you,’ said Jimmy Carde. ‘He stared at the school cat once all through chapel. It was sitting outside the window. And it died of convulsions three days later.’
Felicity shivered. ‘He didn’t look at me,’ she said, ‘though I looked at him.’
She began to wander round Donald’s study to see if anything had changed. The room was small and papered with a flowery wallpaper which had faded to a universal colour of weak tea. A small mantelshelf was painted chocolate brown, and a matching brown cupboard contained Donald’s bed, which was folded up during the day. A rickety bookcase with a chintz curtain contained Donald’s chemistry books, a number of thrillers, some books on climbing, and Three Men in a Boat. A table, a chair, and a carpet with a hole in it completed the room. Small pictures and photographs were dotted about at intervals on the walls, fixed by drawing-pins into the wallpaper. The position of these pictures was compulsory, since some previous inhabitant of the room had decorated it, shortly before he left, with a pungent and ingenious series of obscene drawings. In order to preserve these masterpieces for posterity it was the duty of each succeeding incumbent, enforced in case of need by the prefects of Prewett’s house, to pin up pictures in the appropriate spots and see that they stayed in place.
Felicity studied Donald’s pictures. She had not been told what lay behind them. She looked with interest, since she had not been in Donald’s room since some time in the previous term. A photograph of a lioness with her cubs. A coloured photograph of Tensing on top of Everest. A small framed reproduction of the Snake Charmer of Henri Rousseau, donated by the parents. A coloured advertisement from the New Yorker showing some very fantastic-looking cars. A photo of the St Bride’s second cricket eleven. That was new. Donald had only just made the second eleven. On the mantelpiece stood a photograph of the parents, with the glass cracked. Beside it was an enormous pocket-knife with several of its blades open, and a half-eaten doughnut.
‘Can I eat the rest of this?’ said Felicity Permission was given. After all, there didn’t seem to be much that was new.
‘Have you anything else to eat?’ said Felicity. ‘I’m starving after that trek.’
Donald removed himself lazily from the table and began to dig in a black tin box which stood in the corner. Jimmy Carde got up, stretched, jumped on the table and squatted there, bumping up and down on his heels and drumming on the table top, in the rhythm of a recent dance tune. Felicity wished that he would go away.
‘Here’s a cake,’ said Donald. ‘We’re not very flush at the moment.’
‘That’s an ancient British cake,’ said Carde. ‘It was part of Boadicea’s rations for her troops.’
Felicity tried it. It tasted rather like that. She ate it all the same.
‘How are the parents?’ asked Donald.
‘Mummy’s in a fuss about going away,’ said Felicity, her mouth full. ‘I haven’t seen much of Daddy.’ She began to poke around in a coagulated mass of things on top of the bookcase. ‘What’s that?’ She held up a long silver object.
‘That’s a supersonic whistle,’ said Donald.
‘Supersonic!’ said Felicity. ‘What’s it for, then?’
‘People use it for calling dogs,’ said Donald. ‘It makes such a high note that only dogs can hear it and humans can’t.’
‘That’s silly,’ said Felicity. ‘Why not call the dogs in the ordinary way? Of course, if it were a supersonic dog like -’ She stopped, since the existence of the infernal Liffey was a secret between herself and her brother, and putting the whistle her lips blew into it hard.
A thin piercing sound emerged. ‘Oh, it’s sonic!’ said Felicity disappointed.
‘You have to blow harder,’ said Jimmy Carde, ‘and then the sound disappears.’
Felicity blew harder, the note rose higher and was succeeded by silence. ‘How do I know it hasn’t gone wrong?’ she said suspiciously.
‘It makes people neurotic,’ said Carde. ‘They hear it without knowing and it makes them feel queer. Chaps used to do it at the Nuremburg rallies, to demoralize the other chaps.’
‘What are Nuremburg rallies?’ asked Felicity.
‘You’re too young to know,’ said Carde. Ask your big brother to tell you sometime.‘
Felicity blushed, and said to Donald, ‘Can I have it, please? You don’t want it, do you?’
‘Take it, Fella,’ said Donald magnanimously, ‘and come and blow it outside chapel during Evvy’s sermon.’
‘Have you seen Demoyters’ glamour girl?’ said Carde.
‘No,’ said Felicity, ‘who’s that?’
‘Sleetie Carter,’ said Carde. ‘She’s painting Demoyters’ picture. Revvy Evvy wanted her in his house, but Demoyters pinched her instead. She’s one of the rakish kind.’ He burst into song. ‘A nice girl, a day-cent gur-ril, but one of the rakish kind.’
‘Is that her real name?’ said Felicity.
‘She’s called Rain Carter, for some obscure reason,’ said Donald.
‘I saw your dad showing her round,’ said Carde. ‘He didn’t look as if he was fed up either. I wonder if Demoyters has made a pass at her yet?
‘I think it’s a pretty name,’ said Felicity. She felt extreme dislike for Jimmy Carde. Her eye roved round the room. She wanted to change the subject.
‘Oh!’ said Felicity. She had just seen something in the corner, peeping out from under a pile of coats and sweaters. She pounced upon it, and began to pull it out. It was an extremely long coil of fine nylon rope.
Felicity felt dizzy if she stood on a step-ladder, and she shared her mother’s horror of the whole idea of climbing. ‘Don,’ she said, ‘you promised you wouldn’t!’ She knelt down with her arm thrust through the coil of rope, as if she were going to take it away.
‘Oh, cut it o
ut, Fella,’ said Donald, ‘why are you fussing about promises? You never keep any! Anyhow, this silly rope doesn’t mean a thing.’
‘Don,’ said Felicity, ‘you’re going to climb something. What is it?’
‘The school tower,’ said Carde.
Felicity knelt there petrified. There was a moment’s silence.
‘Shut up, Jimmy, you fool,’ said Donald, ‘and now for Christ’s sake go away, I mean you, Jim, not Felicity. I want to talk family policy with her, since she’s bothered herself to come.’
‘Ah well,’ said Carde, ‘Ah knows when Ah’s not wanted. See you in the usual at the usual.’ He sprang out of the door like a small panther and banged it behind him with his foot.
Felicity came over and seized the cuff of Donald’s blazer. He was dressed for cricket. ‘Don,’ she said, ‘Jimmy didn’t mean it, did he, about the tower?’
‘Of course not,’ said Donald, not meeting her eye.
The school tower could be climbed, but it had been done only once in recorded history, by a man who was now an Under-Secretary in the Ministry of Town and Country Planning. He had placed upon the topmost pinnacle the traditional piece of porcelain, which had remained there for weeks until the games master had had the sporting idea of shooting it down.
‘If you’re going to climb it,’ said Felicity, ‘I’ll tell the parents.’
‘You won’t do that,’ said Donald easily. Felicity never told. ‘And just be careful what you say in conversation. Any breath of this, and Carde and I would be expelled. You don’t want to ruin my career, do you?’ There was an inflexible rule at St Bride’s that any sort of climbing on the school buildings was punished by immediate expulsion. This had been established after one or two of the easier climbs had tempted a few amateurs. The tower, however, was notoriously difficult, the chief problem being a fierce overhang which had to be negotiated a little way from its base.
‘You’d kill yourself,’ said Felicity. She was extremely upset. ‘Please, please, please don’t do it, Don. I’ll give you my camera, the new one, if you won’t do it.’
Donald detached his sleeve, and taking his sister’s arm in a friendly grip, twisted it vigorously behind her black. Fella, darling,‘ he said, ’just don’t make a fuss. If there’s one thing I can not stand it’s women making a fuss. Carde and I won’t attempt it unless we’re sure it’s absolutely safe. We probably won’t attempt it anyway.‘
‘You’re hurting me, Don,’ said Felicity. ‘What are those drawings on the table?’ She dragged her arm away and pulled several sheets of paper out from under a pile of books. They were sketches of the tower from different angles, showing its various profiles in detail.
You see how business-like we are,‘ said Donald. ’Once we’re past here,‘ he pointed to the overhang, ’it’s child’s play. And we have an ingenious plan for doing that. But we probably won’t do it at all. It was just an idea. Carde said it partly to upset you.‘
‘Don,’ said Felicity, ‘please! I’ll do anything you like. I’ll do any dare for you if you’ll not do it. Dare me anything.’ There was an old-established usage between them whereby if one wished the other to drop some cherished plan he would have in exchange to accept any dare that was named. This arrangement had not been invoked for some time.
‘Well,’ said Don laughing and lying back upon the table, ‘what shall I tell you to do? What about making another raid for the Power Game?’ The Power Game was an invention of Felicity’s dating from long ago. It was a sort of eclectic witch-craft, which involved the purloining from the individuals who were to be bewitched of various intimate articles, such as socks, stockings, ties, and handkerchiefs, which were subsequently to figure in the various rituals and ceremonies. The main point of the Power Game, however, as it turned out, had not been the actual magic but rather the preliminary raids. In the course of these raids a number of highly cherished prizes had been taken, including some underpants of Mr Prewett, Mr Hensman’s braces, and an elegant sponge-bag belonging to Mr Everard, none of which had in fact been put to any magical use.
‘All right!’ said Felicity, tense and flushed, ready to dart away. ‘Name anybody you like.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, said Donald, waving a careless foot in the air, ’what about - oh, I don’t know - what about - what about - Miss Thingummy Carter.‘
‘Fine!’ said Felicity. ‘I start now. Where did you say she was? Staying with Mr Demoyte?’ She made for the door.
‘My dear girl,’ said Donald, shooting up like a jack-in-the-box. Stop! I’m not serious. You know we dropped all that long ago.
‘I haven’t dropped it,’ said Felicity. She was near to tears. ‘Liffey is outside,’ she said defiantly, ‘and I nearly saw Angus on the road.’ Angus had been a frequent ally in the Power Game raids. The translated and immaterial Liffey was Felicity’s own private familiar.
‘Oh, do leave all that old stuff,’ said Donald, ‘and for heaven’s sake don’t cry. You’ve been making a frightful row already. Anybody might have heard you.’
‘Well, I’m going on that raid,’ said Felicity, wiping her eyes. ‘You agreed to it and you can’t take it back now. And if I do that you’ll have not to climb the tower.’
‘Stop shouting, Fella,’ said Donald. ‘If Prewett passes, we’re both for the high jump. Look, I’ll see you out of this place. You’re giving me the jitters. Now follow me and keep your mouth shut.’
Donald quietly opened the door of his room and looked both ways down the corridor. Distant sounds floated in, squeals of laughter, a gramophone playing jazz, a dull sound as of cricket stumps being rhythmically beaten together. Donald waited. Then seizing Felicity by the wrist he dragged her out of the room, took the stairs at a leap, and in an instant had her outside the back door. Here he let go of her and ran ahead into the wood, zigzagging rapidly between the trees. Fleet-footed Felicity sped after him. A moment later they had reached the wall and could hear the roar of traffic on the road just on the other side. Donald ran quickly along beside the wall until he came to a certain place. Here it could be seen that for a length of about eighteen inches the broken glass had been removed from the parapet.
Donald leaned crouching against the base of the wall. ‘Jump on my back, Fella,’ he said.
This was a familiar routine. Felicity jumped. Donald rose slowly until he was standing upright, with Felicity standing upon his shoulders, her clambering hands now reaching the top of the wall, and her head well over the top. She began to pull herself up. Donald helped by putting his hands under her feet. She got into a sitting position on top of the wall and then gingerly transferred her legs over to the far side.
She looked down at Donald. ‘Don,’ she said, ‘I’m going on that raid. I’m going now. And remember you promised.
‘I didn’t promise anything!’ said Donald, exasperated. ‘Now shut up, Fella, and get down off that wall before someone sees you.
‘I am going!’ said Felicity.
‘I forbid you to go,’ said Donald,‘and I won’t pay you anything if you do. Now get down off that wall.
‘I’m going now,’ said Felicity, ‘and if you don’t keep your promise I’ll never speak to you again. She addressed herself to the task of getting off the wall. It was a big jump. She let herself down as far as she could, and then closed her eyes. Next moment she was rolling over in the grass. She called, ’Good-bye, Don.‘
‘Wait a moment,’ said Don’s voice from the other side of the wall. There was a prolonged scrabbling sound. Then Donald appeared on top of the wall. He drew his feet up, half rose to a standing position, and then sprang down towards Felicity, staggered, and fell at her feet. He recovered himself quickly and then started walking primly up the hill as if nothing had happened. Felicity ran beside him.
‘Look here,’ said Donald, and he sounded angry, ‘you’re going home now. I’m going to see you to the house and we won’t hear any more of this awful rot.’
‘You can see me home,’ said Felicity easily, ‘but you can??
?t keep me at home. And as soon as you go I shall go off on the raid. Do look at Liffey. She’s seen that big black dog and she’s waving her tail. Can you see her tail? Shall I call her with the supersonic whistle?’
Oh, shut up,‘ said Donald. ’Felicity, I will not be blackmailed by you.‘
‘How do people stop themselves being blackmailed?’ asked Felicity.
‘Listen,’ said Donald, ‘if you go on this silly raid I shall have to come too. And if we’re caught, everyone will think it was my idea.’ They had passed the school gates and turned into the green-shaded maze of roads near their own house.
‘If Demoyters catches us,’ said Felicity, ‘he won’t report you to Evvy. You know he never reports anyone to Evvy.’