Free Under the Net by Iris Murdoch Page A

demented about me,’ said Sadie. ‘By the way,’ she said, ‘how did you know I wanted a caretaker?’
    â€˜Anna told me,’ I said. I was beyond caution now.
    Sadie’s eye glittered in the mirror. ‘So you’re seeing Anna again,’ said Sadie.
    I hate that sort of remark. ‘You know Anna and I are old friends,’ I said.
    â€˜Yes, but you haven’t been seeing her for ages, have you?’ said Sadie, still at the top of her voice.
    I began to dislike the conversation very much indeed. I just wanted to get away.
    â€˜I’ve been in France for a considerable time,’ I said.
    I didn’t imagine Sadie had any close knowledge of Anna’s doings. I could see Sadie’s face focused now into a look of intelligent venom. She looked like a beautiful snake; and the curious fantasy came to me that if I were to look under the drier at the real face and not at the reflection I should see there some terrible old witch.
    â€˜Well, you call on me next Tuesday, early,’ said Sadie, ‘and I’ll install you. I mean it about this bodyguard act.’
    â€˜That’ll be splendid, Sadie dear,’ I said automatically, ‘I’ll be sure to come.’ And I rose.
    â€˜I have to see my publisher,’ I explained.
    We exchanged smiles, and I strode out of the place, followed by a large number of fascinated female eyes.

    I omitted to mention earlier that I am acquainted with Belfounder. As my acquaintance with Hugo is the central theme of this book, there was little point in anticipating it. You will hear more than enough on this subject in the pages that follow. I had better start by explaining something about Hugo himself and then I will tell you of the circumstances in which I first met him and something of the early days of our friendship. Hugo’s original name was not Belfounder. His parents were German, and his father adopted the name Belfounder when he came to live in England. He found it, I believe, on a tombstone in a Cotswold churchyard, and he thought that it would be good for business. It evidently was, for Hugo in due course inherited a flourishing armaments factory, and the firm of Belfounder and Baermann, Small-arms, Ltd. Unfortunately for the firm, Hugo was at that time an ardent pacifist; and after various upheavals, in the course of which the Baermann faction withdrew, Hugo was left with a small concern which came to be called Belfounder’s Lights and Rockets Ltd. He had contrived to convert the armaments factory into a rocket factory; and here for some years he concerned himself with the manufacture of rockets, Very lights, small commercial dynamite, and fireworks of all kinds.
    It started out, as I say, a small concern. But somehow money always stuck to Hugo, he simply couldn’t help making it; and within a short time he was extremely rich and prosperous, almost as prosperous as his father had been. (No one can be quite as prosperous as an armaments manufacturer.) He always lived simply, however, and at the time I first got to know him he used to work on and off as a craftsman in his own factory. His speciality was set pieces. As you probably know, the creation of a set piece is a highly skilled affair, calling for both manual dexterity and creative ingenuity. The peculiar problems of the set piece delighted Hugo and inspired him: the trigger-like relation of the parts, the contrasting appeal of explosion and colour, the blending of pyrotechnical styles, the methods for combining éclat with duration, the perennial question of the coda. Hugo treated the set piece as if it were a symphony; he despised the vulgarity of representational pieces. ‘Fireworks are sui generis,’ he once said to me. ‘If you must compare them to another art, compare them to music.’
    There was something about fireworks which absolutely fascinated Hugo. I think what pleased him most about them was their impermanence. I remember