Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'I
don't
understand
why
you
brought
him
here.’
'I
seem
to
remember,
my
pet,
it
was
you
who
told
me there
was
a
room
available.
Because
that
girl
–
the
one
who
cluttered
up
the
loo
with
quack
remedies
for
acne –
had
gone
back
to
her
parents.’
She
watched
as
with
deft
intent
movements
he
knotted
his
tie
before
the
mirror.
She
had
a
desolate
sense
of
him
armouring
himself
against
her.
'Only
for
something
to
tell
you.’
A
scrap
of
gossip
from
the
meagre
area
where
his
life,
so
full
and
rich,
overlapped
with
hers.
Didn't
he
understand?
'I
never
expected
–
did
you
put
him
in
here
so
you
would
have
an
excuse
to
stop seeing
me?'
'I'm
here,'
he
said.
'If
I
can
trust
my
own
sensations,
I'm
just
out
of
your
bed.’
'Because
I
asked
you
to
come.
When
I
was
sure
he
wouldn't
be
here.’
'Having
other
people
around
hasn't
bothered
you
before.’
'Who
was
I
to
worry
about?
Poor
Jackie
with
her
spots?
Or
Pat
and
the
little
bald
man?
Did
you
know
she
comes
in
here
all
the
time
to
moan
about
him?'
And
she
couldn't
stop
herself,
heard
her
voice
offering
him
another
of
her
poor
scraps
of
gossip.
'She
said
to
me,
"He
thinks
living
together
means
when
he
says,
I'm
going
to
London
for
the
weekend,
I
run
and
pack
his
case.”
Were
we
supposed
to
be
worried
by
them
?
Or
the
Irish
boy
who's
trying
to
be
a
painter?'
'Perhaps
we
should
stop
seeing
one
another,
if
this
isn't
fun
for
you
anymore.’
'Fun!'
But
now
she
was
in
tears.
She
drew
the
sheet
up
over
her
breasts
as
if
to
hide
from
him,
armoured
against
her
in
his
other
existence.
She
had
seen
him
with
the
same
look;
it
struck
her
now,
listening
to
a
seminar
paper,
deciding
while
he
waited
for
it
to
end
what
he
would
say
to
get
what
he
wanted.
'I
like
risk,'
he
said.
'Norman
being
here
adds
to
the
fun – adds
a
little
spice.’
'You
make
me
feel
dirty.’
'Very
liberated.’
'I
don't
want
to
be
liberated,'
Sophie
said.
'I
don't
want you
to
get
up
after
we
make
love
and
walk
away
from
me.
I
don't
want
to
be
left
in
this
terrible
room.
I
don't
want
to
be
alone.’
I
want to be married. I want to be married to you.
She
was
at
the
centre
of
silence.
Encompassing
her
and
flowing
out
from
them
was
the
infinite
sphere
of
his
stillness,
holding
them
within
it,
dwindled
figurines
of
male
and
female,
waiting
upon
change
and
the
event.
There
was
no
way
she
would
ever
give
him
up.
Truth
was
not
something
you
turned
your
back
on
once
it
had
been
found.
His
marriage
had
failed
or
why
would
he
need
her?
She
would
bring
him
a
new
life.
Her
womb
stirred.
Whatever
she
did
was
for
him.
If
she
had
to
fight
for
her
happiness,
she
would
fight.
Chapter
10
Maitland
had
told
her,
“when
he
slips
down
in
his
seat,
right
down,
that's
when
I
keep
my
eye
on
him
in
the
Committee.
When
he
does
that,
he's
passing
judgement.
Once
he's
decided
what
it
should
be,
he
delivers
it
with
an
upward
glance
–
not
the
judgement
of
a
moralist
de haut en bas
–
but
of
an
appraiser,
you
see,
an
old
jurist.
Settled
down
like
that,
he's
weighing
actions
against
consequences.
It's
a
chilly
judgement
and
he
passes
it
on
himself
as
well
as
others.”
But
perhaps,
after
all,
this
judgement
was
not
to
be
passed
on
her.
'Mr
Norman
had
to
be
out
of
the
office
today.
And
it
was
only
when
I
was
ready
to
leave,
practically
out
of
the
door,
that
May –
Mrs
Stewart – suggested
…
'
She
trailed
off,
under
his
eye
conscious
of
the
muddle she
was
making
of
this.
'Mr
Norman
doesn't
know
you
are
here.’
She
assented.
It
was
what
she
had
been
trying
to
say.
'In
this
case,
we
may
say
it
is
jus tertii
to
him
who
you
may
visit
before
your
expedition
to
the
west.’
Expedition
to the west?
Of
course,
she
had
told
him
she
was
on
her
way
to
Glasgow.
Christ!
'You
understand
the
term?'
Expedition?
She
stared
at
him
puzzled,
and
then
the
penny
dropped.
'I
gave
Latin
up
at
school.’
'But
I
thought
your
degree
was
in
languages.’
'An
ordinary
degree.’
Why
the
hell
did
she
say
that?
It wasn't
the
point.
'The
classes
I
did
– in
linguistics
–
they
were
about
the
grammars
of
English.
Jespersen.
Halliday.
Chomsky.’
'"Grammars
.”’
Yes, in the plural.
She
watched
him
thinking
about
that;
but
he
was
too
canny
to
pursue
it.
'The
phrase
simply
means –
it
doesn't
concern
him.
It's
no
business
of
his
whether
you
are
here
or
not.’
Oddly
enough,
the
exchange
eased
some
of
her
tension.
There
had
been
a
friend
of
her
father's,
a
retired
headmaster,
who
had
addressed
her
in
much
the
same
way
when
she
was
a
girl,
‘Ist der Tee kalt?
Don't
tell
me
you
have
no
German?
Possibly
Italian?
A
little
Hebrew
perhaps?’
‘
Don't
be
upset
by
him,’
her
mother
had
said.
‘It's
just
his
way
of
trying
to
talk
to
you.
He's
never
found
it
easy
to
communicate
with
young
people.’
The
resemblance,
however
superficial,
however
deceptive,
comforted
her.
'I
assume
Mr
Norman
would
see
it
like
that?'
Julian
Chambers
asked.
'That
it
wasn't
any
of
his
business?'
She
saw
that
he
was
waiting
for
something
further.
'Mostly
I
get
told
what
to
do
by
Mrs
Stewart.
Like
today, to
deliver
the
proofs
for
Mr
Terence's
thesis
and
the
pamphlets
for
Mrs
Gray
in
connection
with
the
new
hospice
ward.
Not
that
they
couldn't
be
posted –'
and
stopped,
realising
that
sounded
like
a
criticism.
'Mr
Norman
has
no
duties
for
you?'
'He
hasn't
been
there
very
long.’
'Three
weeks
and
two
days.’
With
a
bony
knuckled
finger
he
stroked
back
one
leaf
of
the
desk
diary.
'I
did
think
there
would
be
more
for
me
to
do
with
him
there
...
He
seemed
to
have
a
lot
of
ideas.’
'But
in
the
event
not
so
many
after
all.’
Was
this
why
May
Stewart
had
packed
her
off
today;
so
that
she
could
be
questioned
about
Monty
Norman?
Sophie
decided
on
caution.
'He's
–
it's
not
really
very
long.’
She
was
unpleasantly
conscious
of
the
old
lawyer's
high pale
brow.
His
thinning
white
hair
drawn
back
fiercely
from
it
accentuated
its
height.
Because
he
sat
so
low
in
his
seat,
she
could
see
the
shine
of
his
scalp,
the
skin
of
it
by
contrast
gleaming
pink
and
healthy.
He
must
really
be
a
very
healthy
old
man
with
that
pink
gleaming
scalp
and
the
flexible
spine
of
a
boy
that
let
him
slump
like
that
and
gaze
up
so
steadily
at
her.
She
wondered
what
age
he
was
in
fact.
Seventy?
But
if
someone
had
told
her
eighty
she
would
have
believed
them.
'You
know
how
much
a
scandal
would
damage
the
Trust?'
he
asked.