”It’s one of the Cape triangulars, it’s worth two hundred pounds.”
”Don’t get out of bed! And don’t fuss so. I’ll search, Adelaide will search, it’s probably somewhere in this room on the floor.”
”It can’t be-“
”Adelaide! ADELAIDE!”
It was late evening, nearly Bruno’s bedtime. Rain was beating against the windows. The lamp shone on the pale scrawled counterpane, Bruno’s supper tray with half-eaten beans on toast, the usual litter of stamps, The Spider Population of East Anglia, and the Evening Standard. Danby had spent the evening in a frenzy. Lisa had visited Bruno in the afternoon and he had missed her.
A champagne glass rolled off the bed onto the floor and broke. Adelaide came in looking tired and irritable and began to pick up the pieces of the glass.
”Adelaide, Bruno has lost a stamp, a triangular stamp. It must be somewhere here on the floor. You do that side of the room and I’ll do this side.”
”It can’t be in this room, I’m sure it was in its case-“
”Oh shut up, Bruno. Lift the carpet up at the corners, Adelaide. I’ll help you shift the books. Mind you don’t put your knee on a bit of glass. Oh Nigel, hello, Bruno’s lost a stamp, a triangular one. Could you help us look? It must be on the floor.”
Danby and Adelaide crawled slowly along the floor towards each other while Nigel stood dreamily at the door and watched them.
”I’ll do under the bed, Adelaide. There’s that hole in the carpet, it might have got underneath there.”
”It’s no good your looking, Danby, I know it’s not in this room.”
”Well, where is it if it’s not in this room?”
”I don’t know, but I know-“
”Oh stop blithering. You’re being jolly helpful aren’t you, Nigel. Bruno, get back into bed. Well, it looks as if it’s not on the floor, I’ll look in the drawers and on the shelves. You can knock off, Adelaide, just take that damn glass away, will you, don’t leave it in the wastepaper basket. And the tray. And don’t bang the bloody door like that!”
Adelaide was heard noisily descending the stairs. Nigel continued to watch while Danby searched the chest of drawers, moved it away from the wall and looked behind it, looked behind the bookcase, looked behind the books in the bookcase.
”It may have got inside a book. And if it has God knows when it’ll turn up. It doesn’t matter anyway. Bruno, can’t you be philosophical about a bloody stamp!”
”It’s the best one of the set. It’s worth two hundred pounds.”
”Well, that doesn’t matter to you, does it. Oh Christ, Bruno, don’t take on so, I’ve had a ghastly day. I can’t stand all this damn fuss about a stamp. Nigel, will you either help me or fuck off? Bruno, I’m sorry, don’t look so awful.”
”I know you’re only waiting for me to be gone, you’re only waiting-“
”Bruno, stop it! Look, I’ll search the landing and the stairs, all the way down to my room. It may have got dropped somewhere on the way. Do try to compose yourself. You haven’t even opened your Evening Standard.”
”I want that stamp-“
”Don’t be so childish. I’ll go on looking. You just read the paper for Christ’s sake. Read about the Thames flood menace. That’ll take your mind off stamps.”
Danby came out, followed by Nigel, and shut the door. As he began examining the linoleum on the landing he felt a soft touch on his shoulder.
”Oh clear off, Nigel. This is one of your dream days.”
”Could I talk to you a moment?”
”No.”
”It’s about the stamp.”
Danby straightened up. Nigel had moved on into his own room and Danby followed him.
Nigel’s room presented a stripped and drear appearance. All the furniture had been pushed back against the walls and the dressing table had been banished onto the landing. The centre light showed a square of shabby brown carpet in the middle of the room, a surrounding section of unstained boards, and a further section of much worn cheaply stained wood floor. Some Indian painted wooden animals stood on the chest of drawers together with two jam jars containing anemones and narcissus. The narcissus had faded to the colour and texture of old thin paper. Nigel stood on one leg in the centre of the carpet stroking down his long lank side-locks of dark hair so that they met under his chin. He motioned Danby to shut the door.
”What do you do in here?” said Danby. “Dance?”
”I know where that stamp is.”
”Oh. Where is it?”
”What will you do for me if I tell you?”
”Nothing.”
”You’ll owe me something.”
”Stop babbling, Nigel. Where’s the stamp?”
”Adelaide took it.”
”Adelaide?”
”Yes.”
”That can’t be true,” said Danby. “You’re romancing, you’ve had too much of whatever bloody stuff it is you take.”
”Truly. She didn’t take it for herself. She took it for Will Boase. It was his idea.”
”For Will Boase? Why on earth-?”
”He wanted a camera.”
”Christ. But why should Adelaide do that for Will Boase?”
”Better ask her.”
”Nigel, is this true?”
”Yes, yes, yes. Cross my heart.”
Danby left the room and bounded down the stairs. “Adelaide!”
Adelaide was in her room sitting on her bed staring in front of her. She looked as if she had been crying.
”Adelaide, Nigel says you took that stamp, but this is ridiculous-“
”It’s true.”
Danby sat down on the bed beside her. “He says you took it for Will Boase.”
”Yes.”
”But why?” Adelaide shook her head slowly from side to side and tears began to course down her cheeks. She still stared, not looking at Danby. She said nothing.
”Well,” said Danby after a moment, “whatever the reason you can bloody well get it back again, and if your worthless thieving cousin has sold it he can bloody well give us the money or see the police. I’ll write him a letter and you can take it over straightaway. Bruno wants that stamp. I’ll tell him we found it somewhere. How could you be so unkind to the old man?”
Adelaide began to sob. “Oh stop it, Adelaide. I’ve had enough today. Sorry I was rough, but it’s all a bit much.”
Adelaide began to scream. Sitting stiffly and still staring at the door she uttered a series of low piercing bubbling screams which crowded in her throat as they fought for utterance. Saliva foamed down onto her chin.
Danby turned her round towards him and slapped her face.
The screams stopped, but the next moment Danby felt himself gripped by the shoulders and almost hurled off the bed. Punching, kicking, biting, Adelaide had attached herself to the whole length of his body. Caught off his balance he could not get his hands between them. He felt her teeth at his neck. The next moment they had both fallen heavily onto the floor.
Danby pulled himself up. Adelaide lay where she had fallen, leaning on one elbow, her hair rolling about her, looking up at him with a contorted face.
”Adelaide-please-what is it-you’ve gone mad-“
”You despise me,” she said. “You regard me as a servant. You treat me as a slave. You wouldn’t dream of marrying me, oh no. I’m cheap trash. I’m just good to go to bed with for a while. I’m convenient, easy. You don’t really care about me at all. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
Danby was trembling. “Adelaide, please don’t speak like that. Don’t worry about the stamp. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Better get yourself to bed. Shall I bring you a hot drink, some aspirins or something?”
”I hate you.”
He hesitated at the door. Then he went out closing it behind him. He went straight up into the hall and out of the house into a dark continuum of light driving rain.