The Old Devils

       When it was just too late the restaurant they chose turned out to have some sort of formal dinner going on in it, with toasts and speeches. Dorothy was subdued, talking barely half the time and making Alun reflect that they might have been too hard on her in the past and could afford to have her expire painlessly after all. The meal itself proved to be of no more than common-or-garden vileness, below the threshold of insult-incitement. Both Alun and Charlie were noted for grabbing the bill on these occasions, but tonight Percy got there first. The party spent almost the entire journey back arguing about what the place had been called. Or some of them did; others - Rhiannon first, then Sophie and Charlie - fell asleep or relapsed into silence. Percy said nothing much either, driving at ferocious speed but with great concentration. And nobody seemed to feel like going on after Alun had asserted that Welsh cooking was nothing more or less than bad English cooking, or possibly just English cooking.

       It might have been anything from New Zealander income-tax allowances to the future tense in colloquial Russian that Dorothy got going on in the pub; nobody could remember afterwards, nor cared to try. Whatever it was, she made up for lost time and went critical within a few minutes. Percy got her to her feet and Sophie gave him a hand. Together they urged her towards the door, a troublesome business among the crowded and slow-reacting peasantry.

       'Quite comforting, really,' said Charlie. 'Makes me feel no end posh.'

       'I'd better go along too or Sophie'll never get away,' said Alun. 'Should be fun to watch too.'

       'Do you really think so?'

       'I find the whole thing absolutely fascinating. Somebody who-'

       'No accounting for taste, is there?'

       'See you in a few minutes.'

       Alun had taken it for granted that Dorothy was to be loaded with what speed was possible into the limousine and whisked back to town. So clearly had Percy, but it was not to be. First she insisted on fetching the cardigan she had left in the cottage. Dragged off that, she refused to leave without wishing her hostess good night, and short of disablement there was no obvious way to drag her off _that__. So the end of it was she led the other three back to Dai the Books's, beating off assistance the couple of times she stumbled on the uneven, unlit ground of Brydan's Walk. The moon was hidden behind the high ground on the landward side.

       There was a light in the front room but no occupant, and no light upstairs. As asserted many times in the last few minutes, Rhiannon had gone to bed. Oddly in view of her previous firmness of purpose, Dorothy rather passed this over. With a preoccupied look she went out to the kitchen, came back with a bottle of Banat Riesling, looked slowly but briefly about for the corkscrew and went out again.

       'You can get off back to the pub now, you two,' said Percy. 'I can handle the next stage. You really shouldn't have bothered to come this far.'

       'Are you sure you can manage?'

       'Oh yes, after another glass or two she should go torpid quite fast. Piece of cake.'      .

       'Well, I'm going to have a quick one,' said Alun. There was not much chance of any real money's-worth but he would hang on a moment in case. 'That pub Scotch, it's all very well when you're not used to anything better.'

       'Suit yourself.'

       Percy, head bowed, had been edging along the bookshelves. Now he gave a satisfied grunt, straightened up and moved away carrying a paperback called, Alun saw, _Kiss the__ _Blood Off My Hands__. This he opened and began to read attentively while he established himself in the battered armchair with more contented noises. When Dorothy reappeared and handed him bottle and corkscrew in meek silence, he successfully eased apart the binding of his book and spread it fiat on the arm of the chair so that he could continue to read during his operation on the bottle. In due course Dorothy sat down on a stray dining-chair next to the table and got stuck into a glass of wine. Her silence had attained a serene, meditative quality.

       After a sample of this, Sophie turned to Alun. 'I think we ought to be getting along to Charlie - you know.'

       'Yes, yes, let's be off.' He was quite keen to leave now there was no mileage in staying. 'Er - are you sure you'll be all right?'

       'Yes, thank you, Alun,' said Percy, turning a page and looking up. 'Nice evening. See you soon.' Then, after just the right hammy interval, he half-ca1led, 'Oh, Alun.'

       'Yes?' said Alun without parting his jaws.

       'Don't, er, don't forget what I said about Brydan now. And your heritage.'

       'I won't, never fear.'

       'See you stick to it, boy. Good night both.'

       As soon as he and Sophie had taken five paces outside Alun said, not loudly but violently, 'That man is a _shit__. And a fucking _fool__. A _shit__, a _shit__, a _shit__.'

       'What? What's the matter with him? What did he say?'

       'Well, you heard him... It was what he said earlier. Anyway, never mind. He's just a _shit.'__

       'What did he say earlier?'

       'Oh for Christ's sake forget it, I can't start on all that now,' said Alun, angrily increasing his pace. 'What did he say about Brydan?'

       'Never _mind__. It's not worth going into.'

       She pulled him to a halt. 'It's not worth going into anything, is it, not with me,' she said at top speed and sounding pretty angry herself. 'You think I'm a fucking moron, don't you, Weaver? Always have done. Can't even be bloody bothered to pretend. Just another stop on your bloody milk-round. Another satisfied bloody customer. Well, thanks a million, mate.'

       'Keep your voice - '

       'And I thought you thought I was special. That's bloody foolish if you like.'

       'You know very well I - '

       'When you can't even put yourself out to give me the bloody time of day. '

       Dodginess, a display of temperament from old Soaph was of course nothing new, nor its headlong onset. What was new was the last bit or the bit before and the tears under it. After no great struggle he got his arms round her.

       'You silly little bag,' he said gently.

       One thing led to another, or went some way there. Near where they stood there was a very serviceable little grassy hollow between Brydan's Walk and the edge of the cliff. He remembered it well, remembered it as if it had been yesterday without any memory at all of whether or not he had any time acquainted Sophie with the place. Leading her to it now and then coming across it by chance would need care, though for the moment that was looking ahead rather.

       'What about a spot of num-num?'

       'Don't talk so soft.'

       'There's been not a drop of rain for weeks.'

       '_No__.'

       Matters had reached an interesting pass when the two heard a loud thump or crash in the middle distance, not so much loud when it reached them as obviously loud at source, clearly audible anyway above the sound of the waves quietly breaking on the beach below them. The disturbance had come from somewhere in the row of cottages, perhaps seventy or eighty yards from where they stood in shadow. As they looked in that direction, a light came on upstairs in one of them: Dai's, no question. After a quick glance at Sophie, Alun set off towards it.

       'We ought to be getting along to-'

       'Leave it for now,' he said urgently. 'Come on - Christ knows what's happened there.'

       She hesitated a moment but followed him. They arrived back at the cottage not so very many minutes after leaving it. What had happened there was essentially simple and needed no thought to be found likely too: Dorothy had come out of the lavatory and fallen down the stairs, giving the noise added resonance by overturning a chair next to the front door with two empty suitcases on it. Far from being visibly hurt or in any way reduced by the experience, she seemed invigorated, toned up, though ready to agree she needed a drink.