‘I’ve made your room so nice’, said Gabriel, ‘and we’ll get you any books, won’t we, Brian, and you must just feel free and on your own and not mind us at all. You know you must rest, I think you should play the invalid for a while, stay in bed and be waited on. Don’t you think, darling, that she should stay in bed?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Brian, smiling.
Stella, who longed to stay in bed, to lie quiet and sleep for a week, echoed, ‘Certainly not.’
There was a tap at the door of the room and Father Bernard, who had come in through the kitchen, put his head round. ‘Hello, can I come in?’
‘Why, here’s Father to see you!’ said Gabriel.
Brian said ‘Oh God!’ just audibly, grimacing to Stella who, he thought, shared his view of the ‘creepy priest’.
‘I heard you were here,’ said Father Bernard to Stella. ‘Hello, Ruby.’
‘Oh,’ said Stella, ‘does everyone know then? Is it a topic of conversation at the Baths?’
‘Mrs Osmore told me,’ said Father Bernard, smiling his charming smile. In fact Gabriel had told him by telephone, but he thought it more tactful not to mention this.
‘How does she know?’ said Brian crossly. ‘We don’t want Stella bothered with bloody people dropping in.’
‘I just thought a little offering,’ said Father Bernard, and handed over a long thin package wrapped in newspaper which turned out to contain half-a-dozen daffodils, still in earliest bud, entirely straight and green and cold, like six little rods.
Stella thanked him, adding, ‘I’m not an invalid, you know.’
‘I’ll just put them in water,’ said Gabriel. ‘What darlings, they’ll soon come out.’ She bustled off with the flowers.
Stella did not in fact dislike the priest, she might have enjoyed an intellectual conversation with him, but she mistrusted his role and avoided him. She was a little bothered by his being a converted Jew. She discerned in him a desire to see the strong made weak and the lofty made low, and to make those thus afflicted his spiritual prey. This was what Brian saw as the vampirish aspect of the priest’s character. Stella was sickened by the idea that Father Bernard might want to ‘help her’ and that Gabriel had perhaps asked him to come along with this in view.
Father Bernard looked at Stella with his gentle inquisitive light brown eyes and stroked back his fine girlish dark locks. He understood her attitude to him perfectly. His visit, motivated by curiosity, was at least partly pastoral as well. He did not think it impossible that he might somehow at some time be of assistance to this interesting woman. He did not mind running the risk of seeming an intrusive fool. In his view, people in such matters erred more by not trying than by trying too much.
He said in answer to Stella’s remark, ‘I know,’ and ‘I just came by to look at you, and to be looked at, like in the hospital. I too exist. A cat may look at a queen.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Brian, thereby playing into the priest’s hands.
Stella laughed and returned Father Bernard’s smile.
The priest did not press his advantage. He snapped his fingers noiselessly and said to Brian, ‘I hear Professor Rozanov has arrived.’
‘Has he?’ said Brian. ‘Hip hooray.’
‘George will be pleased,’ said Gabriel, who had just come back. ‘Won’t he.’
‘Delighted,’ said Stella.
‘I’ve put the flowers in your room,’ Gabriel told Stella.
‘Will he stay long?’
‘Oh, I don’t imagine so,’ said Gabriel quickly, as Brian was opening his mouth.
‘Someone said he was going to stay — ’
Somewhere elsewhere Zed could be heard barking. Then the door flew open and Tom McCaffrey came in. Zed ran in, Adam ran in.
Gabriel cried, ‘Oh Tom!’ Tom, knocking into Ruby as he entered, shouted ‘Ruby’ and kissed her. Gabriel kissed Tom. Brian slapped his shoulder. Adam hung on to his jacket. Tom said, ‘Hello, Father,’ and then scooped up Zed and tried to stuff him inside his jacket pocket. Stella watched the family scene with loathing and sick despair.
‘How super, all of you here, well, lots of you. Where have you hidden George? It’s so nice to be back. Is this a conference? What’s up with Stella, why isn’t she booted and spurred? Are you all right? Have you got the ’flu? I had it, there’s an awful variety going round London.’
‘Stella had an accident,’ said Brian.
‘Oh I am sorry, are you OK?’
‘Yes, yes, yes.’
‘I mean really OK, please nothing awful?’
‘Nothing awful, really not.’
Tom, even more than Adam, made Stella think of Rufus. She wanted to escape to her room, but wondered if she could climb the stairs unaided.
‘Oh good, poor Stella, I’m so sorry. Let me kiss you. Here, I’ll give you Zed, he’ll cure anything.’ Tom came and kissed Stella on the brow, stroked her hair lightly, then put Zed down carefully on the chequered rug in the warm depression between Stella’s legs and the edge of the sofa, where the little dog settled down quietly as at a post of duty.
Tom McCaffrey, then twenty years old, was certainly the tallest and arguably the best-looking of the three brothers. He was neither sleek like George nor wolfish like Brian. He was slim but not skinny, with a soft almost girlish complexion. He had a great deal of curly brown hair tinted with gold which fell down on to his shoulders. His upper lip was long and smooth, his sensuous mouth glowed like a child’s. He had the bold blue innocent eyes of Feckless Fiona.
‘Oh good, what luck to find you all! How is old George, by the way? I’m quite out of the picture. How’s Ma?’
‘Ma’s fine,’ said Brian refusing to catch Gabriel’s warning look. Tom evidently knew nothing of ‘George’s latest’.
‘I think I’ll go upstairs,’ said Stella. She wondered if she would be able to rise. She rose. The rug and Zed descended to the floor. Stella made for the door. Gabriel followed her out.
‘What’s wrong with Stella?’ said Tom.
‘George tried to drown her,’ said Brian.
‘I must be off,’ said Father Bernard. He moved and his blackness faded from the room. Adam and Zed ran after him.
Brian said to Ruby, ‘Can’t you find something to do, Ruby? Go and polish something. There must be something to clean somewhere.’
Ruby gravely set herself in motion. Tom touched her as she went out. He looked at the angry pock-marked face of his brother but did not speak. Gabriel came back. She knew from Tom’s look that Brian had ‘said something’.
Gabriel said brightly to Tom, ‘What about the girl? Have you brought her?’
‘The girl —?’
‘Yes,’ said Brian, ‘Emma.’
‘Oh good heavens,’ said Tom, ‘Emma - I forgot - how stupid.’
He ran from the room.
‘You told him — ’ said Gabriel.
‘Oh hang it, what does it matter?’ said Brian. ‘Someone is bound to tell him. What does it matter, what does anything matter? We’re too fastidious, we’re too particular, we’re too fine, in a world reeling with violence and starvation and filth of every sort. What does it matter what George does? I’m sick of George, Stella is sick of George, I’m going out for a walk.’