The Old Devils

       He had to wait a minute or two at the bar, where Victor now presided, while a wave of refills was dealt with. In the interval he saw a man with a moustache nudge a man with a wholly different moustache and pass the word about himself, a word that must have left out the information that he was the sort of old buffer you could just go up to and say hallo to like that and, you know, that would be fine. Before it came to his turn, Victor reached over someone's shoulder and passed him a major Scotch and water with a flourish that said any possible Alun-related bygones were indeed bygones, and oh by the way don't forget that little message to Rhiannon. The unruddy youngster had departed but he was soon accosted by a different one in the shape of the bridegroom.

       'Dad, where have you been hiding?'

       'Out in the open. Too big to be seen.'

       'Come on, come and meet the blokes.'

       The blokes were not far away, about five strides from the drink, in fact, and Peter felt he did pretty well with them, considering. He was touched and impressed by the unobtrusive production William put into this event, letting him feel he was meeting all or most of. them while nursing him through with a couple of talkative reliables. Mter a time William said to him, with no fear of being overheard in the ambient uproar, 'She's a marvellous girl, you know. Or do you know? She says she's hardly seen anything of you over these weeks, I mean before today.'

       'Yes, well, there sort of hasn't been a hell of a lot of, er... '

       'No. Anyway she is. I expect you've heard it said that it's absolutely marvellous when somebody's very difficult to get to know and to get on with at first, and then when you do get to know them it's somehow much better than, well, if it hadn't been like that. Eh?'

       'Yes. I mean I have heard it said.'

       'So have I, and I suppose it might be right, but I must say personally it sounds pretty fair balls to me. Anyway, the point is that's exactly how it wasn't with Rosemary and me. Absolutely no snags or problems of any kind at any stage right from the start. My God, I've just realized it was love at first sight. Doesn't that sound ridiculous?'

       'No,' said Peter.

       There was a short pause while William took a considered sip of champagne instead of alluding to his parents' marriage, then or now. 'Anyway, she's a marvellous girl. You'd better find her quick if you're going to. We're nipping off right after the speeches. Don't want to get caught up with all these drunken bastards.'

       'No, you certainly don't want to do that.'

       'I think I might be a bit pissed myself actually. Look, we'll see you as soon as we get back. Really we will. I'm sorry I haven't done anything about it before when I said I was going to, just before I first met Rosemary, do you remember?'

       'Oh, was that that day?'

       'That was rather the point I'm afraid, meeting Rosemary I mean. It sort of drove everything else out.'

       'Yes, I know the feeling. Well, I expect you're-'

       'How are you, Dad? I've hardly seen you all this time.'

       'I'm all right. I'm better. Those pains I mentioned seem to have, well, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.'

       'I gather you were there then, well, when he went off.'

       'Yes. It's an awful thing to say in away, but I absolutely sailed through that bit.'

       'Must have been a shock at the time, though. Pretty horrible.'

       'It was a rather raw occasion all round.'

       William extended his arm with military smartness to present his glass to the circling champagne-bottle. 'Well, at least I shan't have him to deal with.'

       'He didn't need a lot of dealing with. Not if you weren't married to him.'

       'Well, yeah. Frightful shit, wasn't he? I hardly knew him, of course.'

       'I suppose so. The longer I go on the harder it gets to say that about anybody. Himmler, well certainly. Eichmann, that type of chap. Of course he did leave a certain amount to be desired in the way of friendship, Alun, I mean. Bloody Welshman, you see.'

       'You really are okay, then? There's really nothing wrong?' asked William., looking hard at his father.

       Peter returned the look. 'Nothing whatever, I promise you. Now you're quite right, I'd better track down your wife while there's still time. Have a word before you go finally.'

       'Last time I saw her she was in the garden with my mother-in-law. Jesus Christ.'

       By now they had moved to the dining-room, where there was an extensive spread of cold ham, veal-and-ham pie, English-style sausages and Continental-style sausage. Also on view were bowls of unadventurous salad and, more to the purpose, an array of pickled onions in three colours, pickled walnuts, pickled gherkins in two sizes, pickled beetroot, four kinds of chutney, three kinds of mustard, six kinds of bottled sauce, in other words a meal plumb in the middle of the genuine Welsh tradition, remarkably complete too barring only the omission of tinned fruit. Banks of sandwiches and uncountable cheeses stood in reserve and most flat surfaces within normal reach carried at least one opened bottle of Victor's special-price red or ditto white. Either or both of these would go down a treat after a few quick glasses of champagne and four or five large gin and tonics and in company with salami, mustard pickle, garlic bread, corona-sized spring onions and watercress. Victor himself stood at the head of the table dealing out plates and cutlery and trying to awaken some sense of order in the talkative rout that had started shambling up to be fed.

       After pushing past and through them Peter made his way as indicated to the garden. The general drift towards food had reached back as far as here and the last few figures were slowly converging on the french window. Rosemary was one, but he sent her no more than a glance of apology before almost clutching Rhiannon at her side.

       'Can I talk to you privately? I've got a message for you.'

       'Nothing awful, is it?'

       'No, not in the least. I just want to talk to you for a couple of minutes.'

       When they had moved thirty or forty yards away from the house she turned and faced him, smiling but still uneasy.

       'Charlie asked me to tell you he and Victor are charging the full price for today but you'll get a refund they don't want you to acknowledge.'

       She waited a moment and then said, 'Oh. What's that in aid of?'

       'I can't imagine. Something to do with the office, probably. Some fiddle or other. I've no idea.'

       'Oh. That's not all, is it?'

       'No, it isn't, there's another message. This one's from Alun. No, it's all right - not awful at all, I promise you.' When she just stood very still he went on, 'Immediately before he died, in those few seconds, he said something, only a couple of words, but quite clearly. He said, "Little thing". Charlie must have heard too but I doubt whether he understood, but I feel I did. Alun was thinking of you, he was speaking to you.' Peter wanted to take her hand, but lacked confidence to do so. 'He was sending you his love before he died.'

       'Might have been,' said Rhiannon. 'Perhaps he was. He used to call me... ' Her mouth and chin moved in a way that recalled her youthful self to him more sharply and unexpectedly than anything he had yet seen. Then her eyes steadied on him. 'That's still not all, is it?'