His own case was not quite like that. The pressures he felt were not to be resolved in some shabby photographic studio. It seemed to him that a situation of tragic proportions was being revealed to him. There was nothing he could do to intervene. He had to submit to its inevitability, watch it progress in its own time, like the tide. Each contact with the Protheros laid bare a fresh layer of deceit, the deceit being practised on an innocent woman by everyone around her, husband, son, servant. If anything could be depended upon, it was that Zena Prothero’s pathetically misplaced trust would soon be shattered. The prospect was hideous, unspeakable, too awful to contemplate, and he could do nothing but watch and wait.
At this moment she was admiring North Street’s window-show with her two sons, Guy and Jason, and the maid, Bridget, the four of them idling along the pavements towards East Street, stopping frequently and remarking on things that caught their attention, the very image of family harmony. In a lemon-coloured gown, sealskin jacket and black bonnet, she looked particularly frail this morning. Oh for the reassurance of her robust style of conversation!
Obviously they would turn into East Street and make their way down to the front, so with a touch of brilliance he got ahead of them on the other side of the street, turned the corner, walked some fifty yards and stepped out of sight into a shop entrance. Not by chance had he chosen the finest toy-shop in Brighton for cover. He was fast learning the tactics of the chase.
They came with suspenseful slowness, stopping at several other shop-fronts before they reached the toy-shop. It was double-fronted. In the first window a topical set-piece had been mounted, hundreds of toy soldiers engaged in battle. ‘The 4th (Royal Irish) Dragoon Guards on the Field of Tel-el-Kebir,’ announced a card. ‘We salute our Heroes on their Return to Brighton.’ Jason left his mother and pressed face and hands against the glass.
‘It accounts for the flags all over the town,’ Guy was saying to her in that insufferably conceited voice, as they came within earshot. ‘The 4th have their barracks somewhere out along the Lewes Road, you know. Any excuse for a bit of flag-waving. I suppose we shan’t be able to move for the militia after tomorrow. It’s really too bad when one has booked for the season.’
She did not answer. She stood behind Jason and submitted to the spell of the toy-shop window, looking past the battle-field, which was lined with soldiers of all Her Majesty’s Imperial armies, like unfavoured guests at a ball. The dolls on the shelves at the back had caught her fancy, pretty porcelain things with real hair and perfect clothes in miniature. Moscrop watched her from his position in the shop entrance, through the glass angle of the projecting shop-front. He was near enough to hear every word they said, and they would recognise him at any moment, but he wanted to prolong watching her through the glass until the last possible second.
It was Guy who interrupted his reverie. ‘Look who is here, stepmother. Jason’s guardian angel.’ Spoken without a trace of good will, nor even the courtesy of touching his cap.
‘Mr. Moscrop! But darling, how absolutely charming to meet you again.’
What a gulf there was between these two!
‘The pleasure is all mine, Ma’am, I assure you,’ said Moscrop. ‘I trust that your little boy suffered no aftereffects from his adventure the other day.’
‘Good God no. The brat’s as tough as a mountain goat. But, my dear, I shudder every time I see that dreadful groyne where you found him. You’re a hero, did I tell you? I’m dashed if I know why Brighton gets excited over battles in Egypt when acts of valour are performed by spunky little shopkeepers on its own beach.’
‘Thank you, Ma’am.’
‘But that’s what’s so ridiculous, my chuck-we haven’t thanked you. You wouldn’t let me tell Prothero.’
‘Quite proper, Ma’am.’
‘But there must be something I can do.’
‘Since you mention it, Ma’am, there is one small matter over which’-he coughed discreetly-‘you might indulge me.’
‘Of course! What is that?’
‘Allow me to renew my acquaintance with young Jason. We were becoming quite firm friends. I should dearly like to take him into this establishment and purchase some small memento for him.’
‘Memento? Darling, I couldn’t possibly allow that! We are in your debt.’
He raised his bowler politely. ‘Then with all due respect, Ma’am, you have no choice but to let me have my way. Come, Jason.’
The child took his hand obediently and they went inside. He hoped to find a wooden telescope, but the plan was frustrated. Almost everything else was available, hoops, tops, toy guns, model yachts, cricket bats. Even, suspended ominously over the counter, a selection of birch-rods. He allowed Jason to make his own choice from the variety of playthings the assistant produced.
The others were waiting when they came out into the sunshine. ‘My stars, Jason, how lucky you are!’ said his mother. ‘What a beautiful thing! What is it, Mr. Moscrop?’
‘A wooden crocodile, Ma’am. Once it was placed in his hands he wouldn’t let go of it. The jaws open and close like nutcrackers, you see. I don’t think he can injure himself with it.’
‘He’s partial to crocodiles,’ said Guy, with a sly smile at Bridget. ‘Most civil of you to stand treat to my stepbrother in this way, sir. Now we must be moving on. I was planning on a swim before lunch. Good-day to you.’
‘Perhaps Mr. Moscrop is going our way,’ said Zena, with emphasis.
‘As it happens, I had it in mind to take a look at the sea, Ma’am.’
‘Splendid! Then we shall all go together.’
They passed down the street without much conversation, Guy, since it suited him, demonstrating his role as protector and marching moodily between Moscrop and Zena. Bridget followed, with Jason in the push-chair repeatedly snapping the crocodile jaws. ‘Guy likes to bathe farther along, towards the West Pier,’ said Zena, when they reached the promenade.
‘That’s the direction I planned to take, Ma’am, if I’m not intruding, that is.’
There was a blustery wind, splendidly invigorating, but difficult for a lady to contend with. She managed her dress and hat with that elegance that was natural to her, but she was unable to walk quickly enough for Guy. ‘Let’s have my costume and towel, dammit,’ he finally called over his shoulder to Bridget. ‘I’m going ahead.’ As he went, Moscrop took his place beside Zena and the sea shimmered with a brilliance he had not been aware of before.
‘None of us is allowed to enjoy the day before Guy has had his swim,’ said Zena. ‘If his pa knew he was bathing from the beach I don’t know what he would do. Prothero says the water is polluted. Cholera and typhus. But hundreds of others are just as much at risk, aren’t they? I can’t stop the wretched boy from going in, so I don’t try.’
‘He gives the impression of being a strong-willed young man,’ ventured Moscrop.