‘Because he’s more honest!’
‘Because he’s a fool.’
‘You know perfectly well that George isn’t like everyone else, it’s gone on too long, he’s violent to Stella — ’
‘Is he? Who says so?’
‘Well, not Stella, naturally. You know he gets into rages and hits people and he lost his job because — ’
‘All right, but — ’
‘It’s more, it’s something deep, it’s not just being tipsy and stupid, it’s — ’
‘You mean it’s something evil, is that what you mean?’
‘No, who am I to judge — ’
‘You seem to be doing nothing but judge.’
‘I think we should try to help him as a family,’ said Gabriel. ‘I think he feels very isolated.’
‘I don’t mean evil,’ said Brian, ‘I mean psychologically deep.’
‘George doesn’t hate anyone,’ said Alex, ‘except himself.’
‘He might talk to Robin Osmore,’ said Gabriel. Robin Osmore was the family solicitor.
‘If he hates himself,’ said Brian, ‘let him act accordingly.’
‘Do you want your brother to commit suicide?’
‘No, I just mean swallow his own bile, not involve other people.’
‘I think — ’ said Gabriel.
‘Get himself some electric shocks.’
‘Don’t drivel,’ said Alex.
Gabriel said, ‘Oh no.’
‘All right then, what about our great psychiatrist, Ivor Sefton?’
‘Sefton is a booby,’ said Alex. ‘He never cured anyone, they come out dafter than they go in. And he charges the earth.’
‘He can have it free on the National Health.’
‘Only in a group, imagine George in a group!’
‘No one would join his group anyway,’ said Brian. ‘At least George has got a good pension, I can’t think why. His pension is about the same as my salary!’
‘George isn’t mad.’
‘I didn’t say he was.’
‘Leave him alone. You know we’ve got to leave him alone.’
‘I wonder if Professor Rozanov could help him,’ said Gabriel.
‘Who?’ said Alex.
‘John Robert Rozanov,’ said Brian. ‘Why should he? Anyway he’s old and pretty gaga by now.’
‘I wonder what happened to the little girl,’ said Gabriel.
‘What little girl?’
‘Wasn’t there a little grandchild, the one Ruby’s cousin or something was looking after once?’
‘I’ve no notion,’ said Brian. ‘I don’t think Rozanov ever saw the child at all, he wasn’t interested; he only cared about his philosophy.’
‘And that’s the man you imagine could help George!’
‘Well, wasn’t he his old teacher?’ said Gabriel.
‘I can’t see George bothering with him,’ said Brian.
‘Leave George alone,’ Alex repeated.
In the silence that followed Gabriel drifted over to the bow window, past chairs and sofas piled with cushions embroidered by Alex. This move was a part of the symphony, the sign that Brian and his mother could now take looks at each other and bring the conversation to a suitable close.
Gabriel saw the reflection of her cigarette grow brighter in the glass pane. Then she could see the familiar burly outline of the trees against a dull darkening sky. The self-contained stillness of that garden always troubled her with emotions - awe, envy, fear. She sighed, thinking of that future of which Alex could say nothing. She looked down. A little white thing sped across the lawn like a ball swiftly bowled, then a boy. They vanished under the dark trees. Such a frail little dog, the very image of her destructible son. Adam was not growing, he was already exceptionally small for his age. She had asked the doctor who told her not to worry.
When Adam arrived in the Belmont garden he went straight to the garage. The garage, which used to be known as the ‘motor house’, was a building with a little French-looking turret which was exactly like the big turret on the big house. There was a row of last year’s martins’ nests under the eaves, but this year’s martins had not yet come. Inside the garage was the white Rolls-Royce which Alan McCaffrey had driven carefully in on some long ago evening, perhaps, as he pressed down the brake, not even knowing that he was about to leave his wife forever. He never came back for the car; and Alex had not touched it since. It was said to be very valuable. Adam climbed into the Rolls and sat holding the wheel and turning it cannily to and fro, while Zed (who always had to be helped up however earnestly he tried) sat complacently upon the soft old smelly leather seat beside him, looking in his white feathery fur like a plump roosting bird. Zed had one or two elegant black spots on his back, and long dark plumed black and brown ears which crowned his head like a wig or hat. He had a little domed head and a short slightly retrousse nose and beautiful dark brown eyes with hints of dark blue like shot silk. He could look magisterial and amused and sardonic, or sometimes flirtatious, hurling himself back in graceful abandoned attitudes; but then, suddenly romping and undignified, his entire concentrated person could express the purest of pure joy.
When Adam got tired of driving the Rolls he ran across the lawn to the Slipper House, which was locked of course, and peered in through the windows. He had been inside but not often. He liked being outside looking in, watching the quiet old-style furniture in the silent rooms which were now becoming so dark and lonely. With pleasant dread he imagined seeing some strange motionless person standing inside and looking out. After that he had to visit various trees, the copper beech and the birches and the fir tree whose noble reddish trunk twisted up so high, visible here and there amid its heavy piles of dark foliage. He especially loved the ginkgo, so odd and so old. He gently touched the lower parts of the tree where the little stalkless scrolls of green were just beginning to appear. He lay down under the tree and let Zed jump on his chest and sit with neat front paws resting on his collar-bone. However quickly he raised his head, he could not surprise Zed looking anywhere else than straight into his eyes with his provocative intent mocking stare. When they tired of this game, Adam crept away into the long grass trying to avoid hurting the snails whom the rain had tempted forth, and whose weight bent the blades into arches. He crawled under some brambles and under some ivy into the deepest part of the shrubbery beside the old tennis court overgrown with elder bushes, where the foxes lived. Adam, like his grandmother, knew but kept the fox secret. The great earth, under mounds of finely dug soil, had wide dark entrances into which Adam and Zed gazed with awe, only Adam kept a firm hold on Zed in case he should be tempted to go down. (In fact Zed had no intention of going down, not that he was not a brave dog, but he suffered from claustrophobia and the whole place smelt extremely dangerous.)
Adam’s mother called him across the dark garden.
‘Coming!’ He picked up Zed and put him inside his shirt, warm soaking-wet dog against warm soaking-wet boy.
‘Damn, that creepy priest is here,’ said Brian.
‘How do you know?’
‘There’s his bike.’ A lady’s bicycle was propped against the fence.
Brian and Gabriel and Adam and Zed were returning from their visit to Alex. Their house (though it was not in Victoria Park) was not far away. It was dark now and the sweeping headlights showed the bicycle, the fence, the yellow privet hedge, the side of the house, painted pink, as the car turned off the road into the garage.
They tumbled out, Adam and Zed racing first along the side passage toward the kitchen door which was always left open. And into the kitchen indeed, and not for the first time, the creepy priest had penetrated.
When Brian and Gabriel arrived Father Bernard had already established his usual easy relations with Adam and Zed, holding the little dog up aloft in one hand while Adam laughed and tugged at the black robe.
Gabriel, aware of how much Father Bernard annoyed Brian, and of how jealous Brian was of people who got on easily with Adam, quickly, after greeting the priest, put Adam’s supper, which was standing ready, on to a tray. ‘Here, Adam, take your supper, then quick to bed, no television. Good heavens, you’re soaked, find a towel — ’