The Illustrated Gormenghast Trilogy

‘Nonsense!’ said Irma. ‘Nonsense, you silly woman! Sharks in Gormenghast Lake! The very idea!’

Fuchsia’s eyes were on Steerpike. He was a strong swimmer and was by now halfway across the lake, the thin white arms obtusely angled at the elbows methodically dipping and emerging.

Cora’s voice said: ‘I can see somebody.’

‘Where?’ said Clarice.

‘In the water.’

‘What? In the lake?’

‘Yes, that’s the only water there is, stupid.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘Well, it’s the only water there is that’s near us now.’

‘Oh yes, it’s the only water of that sort.’

‘Can you see him?’

‘I haven’t looked yet.’

‘Well, look now.’

‘Shall I?’

‘Yes. Now.’

‘Oh … I see a man. Do you see a man?’

‘I told you about him. Of course I do.’

‘He’s swimming to me.’

‘Why to you? It might as well be to me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we’re just the same.’

‘That’s our glory.’

‘And our pride. Don’t forget that.’

‘No, I won’t.’

They stared at the approaching swimmer. His face was most of the time either under water or lying sideways along it to draw breath, and they had no idea that it was Steerpike.

‘Clarice,’ said Cora.

‘Yes.’

‘We are the only ladies present, aren’t we?’

‘Yes. What about it?’

‘Well, we’ll go down to the shore, so that when he arrives we can unbend to him.’

‘Will it hurt?’ said Clarice.

‘Why are you so ignorant of phrases?’ Cora turned her face to her sister’s profile.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ muttered Clarice.

‘I haven’t time to explain about language,’ said Cora. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘No. But this is what does.’

‘Oh.’

‘We are being swum to.’

‘Yes.’

‘So we must receive his homage on the shore.’

‘Yes … yes.’

‘So we must go and patronize him now.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now. Are you ready?’

‘When I get up I’ll be.’

‘Have you finished?’

‘Nearly. Have you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come on, then.’