The Magus - John Fowles by John Fowles

Author:John Fowles [Fowles, John]
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2011-05-18T23:52:04.789068+00:00

"Who's he?" I saw the date i8oo.

"A famous French printer." She turned me back to the flyleaf. On it was, in very neat writing, an inscription: From the 'idiots' of IVB to their lovely teacher, Miss Julie Holmes. Summer 1952. Underneath were fifteen or so signatures: Penny O'Brien, Susan Smith, Susan Mowbray, Jane Willings, Lea Gluckstein, Jean Ann Moffat . . . I looked up at her.

"First of all explain how you were teaching last summer in England and — remember? — coping with Mitford here."

"I wasn't here last summer. That's the script." She ignored my unspoken question. "Please look at these first."

Six or seven envelopes. Three were addressed to: Miss Julie and Miss June Holmes, do Maurice Conchis, Esquire, Bourani, Phraxos, Greece. They had English stamps and recent postmarks, all from Dorset.

"Read one."

I took out a letter from the top envelope. It was on headed paper. ANSTY COTTAGE, CERNE ABBAS, DORSET. It began in a rapid scrawl:

Darlings, I've been frantically busy with all the doodah for the Show, on top of that Mr. Arnold's been in and he wants to do the painting as soon as possible. Also guess who — Roger rang up, he's at Bovington now, and asked himself over for the weekend. He was so disappointed you were both abroad — hadn't heard. I think he's much nicer — not nearly so pompous. And a captain!! I didn't know what on earth to do with him so I asked the Drayton girl and her brother round for supper and I think it went off rather well. Billy is getting so fat, old Tom says it's all the grass, so I asked the D. girl if she'd like to give him a ride or two, I knew you wouldn't mind . . .

I turned to the end. The letter was signed Mummy. I looked up and she pulled a face.

"Sorry."

She handed me three other letters. One was evidently from a former fellow teacher — news about people, school activities. Another from a friend who signed herself Claire. One from a bank in London, to June, advising her that "a remittance of £100 had been received" on May 31st.

"Our salary."

It was my turn to be surprised. "He pays you this every month?"

"Each of us."

"Good God."

I looked at the letter from the bank again and memorized the address: Barclay's Bank, Englands Lane, N.W.3. The manager's name was P. J. Fearn.

"And this."

It was her passport. Miss J. N. Holmes.

"N.?"

"Neilson. My mother's family name."

I read the signalement opposite her photo. Profession: student. Date of birth: 16.12.1930. Place of birth: Cape Town, South Africa.

"South Africa?"

"My father was a commander in the Navy. He died when we were only six. We've always lived in England. I mean he was English."

Country of residence: England. Height: 5 ft. 8 in. Colour of eyes: gray. Hair: fair. Special peculiarities: scar on left wrist (twin sister). At the bottom she had signed her name, a neat italic hand. I flicked through the visa pages. Two journeys to Italy, one to France, one to Germany.

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