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735had told him so. Before he died, Bright, like his master, had put his arms about him and held him close . . . There were all kinds of love. And then there was Bertha. But was this Bertha here with him?

Had he dropped in on Bertha? No, he hadn't. But he must go and see Bertha. He must see Amy first, though, and have it out with her. Bertha was getting on, and she was in that isolated place all by herself.

He wanted her brought to the house. He had said to Amy he would get a nurse specially to look after her if she ever needed one. Amy was jealous of Bertha. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? ... There were all kinds of love. And now here he was in a strange land . . . no, just a strange house; and his head was aching, and he was dizzy and . . .'Could you drink this cup of tea, sir?' 'Oh. Oh, thank you, thank you.' He drank the tea. It was hot, strong and sweet, and he didn't take sugar; but he liked this, it was a change. He said to the woman standing by his side, 'I ... I'm sorry I'm . . . putting you to ... to trouble.''No trouble at all, sir. We were just closing for dinner, any rate. Is your head aching?'

736'It ... it seems a bit strange. I must have bumped it.''Yes, indeed, you must have bumped it. You were flat out. Those scalliwags must have knocked you flyin'. They walk in when they're sent for a bottle of beer but they come in on wings when they're bringin' back the empties. They get a ha'penny on the bottle, you see, sir.''Oh, yes, yes.'She didn't look like Bertha, but in a way she sounded like Bertha; and the other one, she hadn't spoken. He looked at her. She was a young girl; no, a young woman. She had a lot of hair, brownish, and her eyes were large and her mouth was laughing. And now she spoke: 'Lyin' prone outside an outdoor beer shop is surely a case for the police,' she said; 'but we could prove you never drank on the premises, sir, couldn't we?'He should laugh; well, he was laughing; then he let out a sound as near a scream as ever he had emitted even when he was shot, and the older woman exclaimed, 'Oh my! Oh my! I should have told you: I was lifting your bad foot onto the cracket 'cos it was 737Idanglin' there. You'll have to get your shoe and sock off for the doctor/I'm sorry.''Oh, don't be sorry. Seems to me it's broken.''Oh, no, I hope not.''Why, have you to walk a lot? Well, we all have to walk, I know that, but I mean, is that your job?''Yes, sometimes'-he hesitated-'in a way, but I have a car that's garaged just a short way off.''Oh, at Ridley's. But you'll never be able to drive a car with that foot, whether it's broken or not.''No, I doubt if I will.''Would you like another cup of tea?'He hesitated before he said, 'Yes. Yes, I think I would, but could I have it without sugar, please?''Yes. Yes. Oh, I stick sugar in everything.'She disappeared from his view and there was only the younger woman standing to his side now, and she wasn't smiling as she said, 'It's her aim in life to sweeten everything and everybody up.''Well'-he had to make himself think of

738his next words because his head was buzzing madly-'it's a good aim I should imagine.''Yes, very good . . . Where d'you live?''On ... on the outskirts of the town.''Oh, well then, you'll be able to get a taxicab. Are you on the telephone?''Yes, we're on the telephone.''Oh then, we'll be able to telephone and tell your people . . . You're married?''Oh, yes.''And a family?''Six. Three boys and three girls.''That's nice. Are they all small?''Not really. The youngest is fourteen and the eldest, twins, they're eighteen, nearly nineteen.''Oh, practically all grown up?''Yes, nearly.'His eyelids were heavy. He closed them, and her voice came to him as if from a distance, saying, 'You're still feeling dizzy, aren't you? You've likely got a little concussion. Anyway, I'll take that pillow away from your head, you'll be able to lean back further.'He felt her lifting his head up, then gently laying it back again. That was better, he739could go to sleep now . . . What was he thinking? He mustn't go to sleep here; he must get home. He'd have to phone Amy. But he'd better not yet, not until just before he got in that taxicab, else she'd be over here, fussing, fussing, fussing. Why was it she paid so much attention to some things and not to others? She saw to all his needs, she was always stating. That was funny, and he had told her so. That was indeed funny. He heard the young woman saying, 'I think he's going to sleep, Mother. I wouldn't press him to have the tea . . .'He was awakened by a man's voice: it was saying, 'Well, well! what have we here?

Drunk and disorderly outside an outdoor beer shop. Why do you allow it, Janet? I'll have to report you to the police . . . Hello, sir. I hear you've had a spill. Well now, let's have a look. Does that hurt? Oh yes,

I see it does, doesn't it?'And the doctor's probing fingers caused him further pain before his diagnosis came: 'Well, sir, good report: nothing I can see broken, but a very bad sprain. You'll need to keep it up for some time; but I don't think it'll need plaster, that's if you're sensible and 740don't put any weight on it. Now about your head. You feel dizzy, I understand?''Yes. Yes, a little.'*And sleepy?''Yes, that, too.''Ah, well, when you hit the pavement in any way you expect results.

Try not to do it the next time you fall.'He closed his eyes. There were a lot of jokers around here.'What is your name?' I'Joseph Skinner.''And you live where?''Grove House, Woodland Road.'The chubby-face doctor straightened up, nipped his chin between a finger and thumb and nodded as he said, 'Grove House. I know it; the Filmores' place?''Yes. Yes, the Filmores' place.''Oh, yes, yes.' The man was still nodding. 'You married Douglas Filmore's daughter, didn't you?''Yes, I married the daughter.'The doctor stood back from the chair, then turned and looked first at one woman then at the other and said, 'It's a lovely place, beautiful gardens.' And, bending to-741wards Joseph again, he added, 'I know the history of that place. And you brought it back to life, made a very good job of it. Your doctor is Frank Mellow, isn't he? I know him; we went through college together. It's a small world, a small world. Well now, sir, what we must do is to get you home. You have a telephone here, Janet, haven't you? Well, you'll first ring up a taxicab and then-' He now looked at Joseph, asking, 'Your number, sir?'Two eight five.' What a fussy man! He didn't care for fussy people.

He had lived with fuss too long. Fussy people always wanted to probe into your life, into your inner being

. . . nothing was left, nothing, nothing. Bertha, too, was fussy. But she was fussy in a different way: there was no cornmand behind Bertha's fussiness . . . 'What did you say, sir?''I said, the sooner you get into bed the better, and I'll telephone Doctor Mellow. But for the present, if you, Liz, will get that taxicab and inform the gentleman's home, I'd be obliged.''Yes, I'll do that, doctor.''Well, now, I must be off.' He was bendingi

742over Joseph now, Tm glad to have made your acquaintance, sir. I wish it had been under better circumstances. But there's always a future, isn't there?''Yes, there's always a future.'The little man stood back as if he were waiting for some words of thanks, then said, 'Ah. Ah well, a pleasant journey,' and he went from the room, and Joseph repeated to himself, 'Oh, I know the history of that place. You brought it back to life . . .'He was hazy about what had followed, except that he shook the elder woman's hand and then that of the younger, who smiled at him and said, 'Take more water with it next time.' He recalled smiling back at her and saying, 'I'll try; but strong liquor is a great temptation,' at which she had laughed .

. , laughed outright. It was a laugh that he hadn't heard before. It was clear and had a happy ring to it ...

Take more water with it.

He was lying on a couch, placed opposite the fire, in the bedroom where his grandfather had lain in the four-poster bed and had died there. Now there was no four-poster in the room; it had been replaced by a large brassknobbed bed. There was nothing at all left in the room to remind him of what it had been like at that time, except for the wardrobe and the dressing-table; the former, taking up practically the length of one wall, was really too large to move, and the dressing-table being such a handsome matching piece, Amy, at her father's request, had left it where it always had stood between the large double windows.

The carpet was a warm beige colour, and the curtains of dull pink satin brocade, which was repeated in the upholstered easy chairs.

744The room at the moment was high with the voices and laughter of six young people, and it was seventeen-year-old Alice who cried, 'Go on! Jonathan; read it to Daddy.'But eighteen-year-old Malcolm, the elder of the twins, said, 'It's childish, mediocre, and doesn't scan.''Oh! listen to the big-headed university type.' This was from fifteen-year-old Kitty, pushing at her brother and adding,

'Your head's getting too big for your hat.' Then, 'Go on! Jonathan, read it to Daddy;' and turning to the man on the couch, she said, 'It's funny. It really is, Daddy. Listen.'Jonathan, almost a replica of what Douglas had been at sixteen, grinned; then standing up and assuming a pose, one hand laid across his chest, the other holding a sheet of paper chin-high, he read:Don't tell me, sir, your tale of woeWhen to Gateshead you did goSupposedly a property to view,When in your heart you certainly knew'Twas after beer you were intentAnd into an outdoor beer shop you wentAnd spent all your money in that place, 745Then landed . . . flat upon your face. Result, concussion and an ankle bent. You, Mr Skinner, are a disgrace, And I ask you to your face, Are you sorry that you went?There was more laughter now and Joseph, reaching from the couch, punched at his son, saying, Til have you up for slander, sir. I was neither drunk nor daft. Well, perhaps a little daft, but no liquor had passed my lips; it was empty bottles that caused my slips.''Oh! Oh!3 The groans came from all quarters. 'Don't Daddy, don't, please!' This came from Alice. 'Rhyming isn't your forte.''And it certainly isn't Master Jonathan's either.'They all turned on Malcolm again, fourteen-year-old Bertha punching at her big brother as she cried, 'Then let's hear you do better,' before turning to her sister and saying, 'Kitty, let's rag him. You get his hair . . .''You'll do nothing of the kind. You can be heard all over the house.'They all turned and looked towards the door they hadn't heard open, and, all silent

746now, they watched their mother walk towards the couch where, looking down on Joseph, she said,

'Why do you encourage them? You're supposed to rest. As for you lot, there are jobs downstairs for everyone of you.'Now the voices assailed her:'We got the holly in.''And we've done the chains.*'I brought all the stuff down from the attics.''Yes, yes, yes.' Amy put up her hands, silencing them. 'But the tree has got to be decorated, the holly has got to be put up. You cannot expect the maids to do everything: they've got enough on their hands. Cook wants extra help in the kitchen, and Linda's there, and Rene's got her own work to see to. And you boys'-she pointed to William and Malcolm-'you can carry the baskets of washing over from the laundry, and be careful! Florrie and May are ironing over there, and what's more they all want their own hall decorated for their party on Christmas night. That leaves plenty for everyone to do, so get about it, sharp!' Her arm was flung wide as if in command, and amid different

747forms of protest they all went from the room, and their going left a strained silence behind them.Lifting a glove from where it hung on a hook to the side of the fireplace, Amy put it on; then, taking up a pair of tongs, she transferred some pieces of coal to the fire, after which she replaced the glove, then wiped her hands one against the other as if getting rid of the dust, and now looking to where Joseph was surveying her, she said, 'You encourage them; the house is like a fairground at times.' She sat down on the side of the couch and took hold of his hand, saying, 'How do you feel?''Fine; there's nothing wrong with me.'

'You've been suffering from concussion, besides having a sprained ankle, and you say there's nothing wrong with you. But how you can put up with that noise, I don't know.''Why don't you like your family, Amy?* 'WhatT She jerked herself some inches along the couch from him, then repeated, 'What?9'You heard what I said: why don't you like your family?'

748'What a thing for you to say to me! And you have said some wicked things in your time, at least lately; but that is cruel.''It's the truth, Amy. You should never have had children; you should have only had me. Isn't that right?'Her eyelids were blinkly rapidly, her mouth had formed a tight line; then in a trembling voice, she said, 'You don't appreciate being loved. Never have.''Oh, I appreciate being loved all right, Amy, always have done, but as I see it there's room in life for all kinds of love, and that extends to one's children.''One's children!' Her voice had a bitter note in it now as she repeated, 'One's children! I gave you six children in five years. I became worn out.''Not so much worn out, Amy, as determined not to have any more, so much so that you took a separate room for a time, even after I had promised you faithfully there'd be no more. But you didn't believe me, while all the time professing this great love for me.''It was great, it still is. You . . . you don't know anything about real love. Your kind of love is mixed up with . . .'

749'Go on, say the word. It's that dreadful, dreadful word, lust. Go on, say it.'She got to her feet now and said, 'All right! yes, lust.''Amy, I'm going to tell you something. You may not understand it but I hope you will; you must work it out for yourself. I think you should have been a nun. Your kind of love would have satisfied God; although, on second thoughts, He, too, wouldn't want to be possessed; and then, on the other hand, like many a frustrated nun, I'm sure you dreamed of caresses; in your case you sought them, you demanded them, you liked to be petted and kissed, but when it came to what usually leads from the petting and the kissing, you became like a frustrated virgin. That's something I could never understand, cold, stiff, no response; it all had to come from me. You're a queer mixture, Amy. At times I've been sorry for you, while at others -' He now pulled himself up on the couch and, leaning towards her, muttered vehemently, 'At other times I've wanted to thrust you out of my life, because ever since I can remember you've been in it, chasing me, grabbing at me, holding me to you, yet at the 750same time giving nothing, nothing of yourself. All you wanted was for yourself to have and to hold, like the song says, but never, take me, all of me, my body, my mind, all that is me. That is love, real love.