Authors: Frederic Lindsay
Chapter
22
When
he
came
in
she
was
afraid,
but
he
sat
down
with
his
hands
on
his
knees
and
looked
across
the
bed
at
her.
She
had
been
waiting
in
the
chair
by
the
window,
and
at
sight
of
him
she
started
up
then
sank
back
not
sure
of
what
he
might
do
if
she
tried
to
leave.
Keep calm;
she
told
herself,
someone
will
come.
'I'm
in
a
room
with
three
other
people.
You
have
this
to
yourself,
all
right
for
some.’
The
lights
were
on
in
the
ward
opposite,
but
there
was
no
one
to
be
seen,
no
one
ever
showed
at
any
of
the
windows.
A
drizzling
rain
wept
down
on
the
grassy
bank.
Her
glance
snatched
backed
to
him;
he
hadn't
stirred.
In this place full of people
,
she
thought,
I
could be raped. The corridor outside was busy; nurses tap heeling past and no one to know what was being done in here.
Drymouthed,
she
contemplated
the
idea
of
screaming.
'Not
much
of
a
view,'
he
said,
getting
up
and
coming
to the
window.
She
tried
not
to
flinch,
feeling
the
heat
of
his
body
standing
close
beside
her.
'Better
view
from
the
roof
when
we
were
up
there
together.’
and
casually,
in
the
same
tone,
'You
frighten
easily.
One
kiss,
I
didn't
mean
to
frighten
you.’
'I'm
waiting
for
my
husband
to
come,'
Lucy
said.
'He's
late.
He
should
be
here
by
now.’
'Funny
time
for
a
visit,'
the
Lewisman
said,
and
ran
his
hand
over
the
stiff
brush
of
his
hair
while
squinting
at
her
sceptically.
'He's
coming
to
take
me
home.’
'Cured,
are
you?'
With
a
grin,
he
shook
his
head,
did
not
believe
that
for
a
moment.
'I'm
going
home.’
'You're
not
committed.
No
reason
why
you
shouldn't
walk
out
the
door.
If
your
husband
wants
you
back?
If
he's
feeling
lonely?'
'He's
coming
to
take
me
home.’
'Well,
then,'
he
said,
a
comfortable
there-you-are-then
noise
that
conveyed
his
doubt.
'And
the
children?'
She
said
nothing,
sure
he
was
mocking
her.
'You'll
be
looking
forward
to
seeing
them,
their
arms
round
you,
putting
their
arms
round
you,
hello,
Mum!'
'Yes,'
she
said,
and
saw
him
frown.
'My
two
children.
My
daughter
and
my
little
boy.’
She
held
out
her
hands
and
they
were
on
either
side
of
her,
felt
little
hands,
baby
hands,
and
looked
down
and
saw
hers
were
empty.
And
all
the
time
he
was
talking.
'When
I
was
in
London,
I
went
to
this
house
one
morning
and
knocked
on
the
door.
It
was
a
terrace
kind
of
a
thing.
I
went
there
on
the
train,
took
me
an
hour
and
then
there
was
a
walk.
I
knew
where
I
was
going,
though,
they'd
given
me
a
bit
of
paper
with
it
all
written
out
–
turn
right
out
of
the
station,
four
streets
along
and
then
go
left
up
the
hill.
There
were
black
guys
all
over
the
place,
coming
back
with
the
papers
or
out
in
the
street
washing
the
car.
It
was
the
middle
of
a
Sunday
morning.
I
thought
just
my
luck
if
he's
not
in.
Anyway,
I
came
to
the
house,
checked
the
number.
It
was
red
brick,
you
know
the
way,
with
a
kind
of
cellar
below
and
I
went
up
the
steps
and
rang
the
bell.
The
funny
thing
is
when
he
opened
the
door
he
knew
right
away
who
I
was
although
we'd
never
seen
one
another
before.
He
went
the
colour
of
that
sheet.
"Tell
Bernie
I'll
get
the
money,''
he
said,
"first
thing
in
the
morning.”
I
showed
him
the
shooter.
"It
has
to
be
now,"
I
told
him.
"For
Christ's
sake,"
he
said,
"not
in
front
of
the
kids.”
And
right
enough
a
boy
and
girl
had
come
up
the
stair
into
the
hall
–
from
the
kitchen,
I
suppose.
The
girl
had
a
cup
in
her
hand.
The
boy
might
have
been
three or
four,
I'm
no
judge.
In
his
underpants,
nothing
else
on,
standing
there
taking
it
all
in.
"You
wouldn't
shoot
me
in
front
of
the
boy?"
that's
what
he
said,
"You
wouldn't
shoot
me
in
front
of
the
boy?”'
The
Lewisman
made
a
face
of
disgust.
'And
he
started
crying.
What
do
you
make
of
that?'