Tunnel hadn’t been too crowded. Better than expected, in fact. Dotty hadn’t met him before. She thought
he was nice, because he shook her hand and said he was glad to meet her. He seemed an unlikely partner for the restless May.
May said how pretty the scenery was. ‘So unspoilt and countrified.’ She giggled, because she wasn’t a fool, and the remarks
faded into the summer air as they followed each other over the gate. She very nearly fell on her knees on the far side.
Lionel opened his mouth in alarm. ‘Take it easy, my darling,’ he cried, attempting to take his wife’s arm, but she stepped
away from him.
Over the brow of the hill came Balfour and George, carrying an iron bedstead with the body of Willie laid on a striped mattress
splotched with damp.
When the two groups met, the bearers halted and lowered the cot to the grass, and Dotty said ‘How is he?’ looking down at
the sunken mouth and the stubbled chin – all that was visible of Willie, for his eyes and nose were covered by his cap.
‘I think he’s all right … just a bit dazed. Been overdoing it.’ George sat down on the mattress and laid his white fingers
on the Welshman’s knees. ‘Home soon, Willie, home soon.’ He hung his head, still touching Willie, and appeared not to see
the new arrivals.
May had never seen anyone quite so tall as George. She stood with one hand, the one with the bracelet about her wrist, gripping
the bars of the bed, and smiled into the field. Lionel adopted a tragic expression, bending his head low as if in church,
though he wasn’t sure why there was an old man lying on a bed in a field, and not sure who the tall fellow was or the other
shorter one with the spotty complexion. He had understood from Joseph’s letter that there would be just Dotty and themselves
out in the woods. Of course, Joseph, being arty, was often vague. May had wanted to go abroad, or to a hotel on the coast
at least, but he simply couldn’t raise the money and he thought it safer to take her somewhere secluded, rather than expose
her to the twin temptations of casual acquaintanceships and drink. It was something he often told her.
‘Any casual acquaintance could have you in drink. You simply have no sense of responsibility.’
‘Is he ill, poor old fellow?’ Lionel asked, standing stockily in his good suit with the rather wide trousers and his white
stiff collar tight about his neck.
‘I believe so,’ said Joseph, not interested, wanting to sit down somewhere. He told Dotty, ‘I think I ought to go and see
about Roland.’
‘Ah, Roland.’ Lionel jangled pennies in his pocket, remembering the vanishing tricks with money that he had shown Roland a
year earlier. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Roland.’ He meant it. ‘Coming along all right, is he?’
‘You’ve got to drive Willie home in the car,’ George said.
‘Of course, of course,’ Joseph agreed, genuinely ashamed of being so forgetful. He took Balfour’s place at the foot of the
bed, and he and George carried the stretcher towards the gate. Lionel marched ahead in his shiny brown shoes, anxious to be
helpful.
Balfour was astonished by May. She was the living reality of the mound of old dreams dreamt in puberty of fair women coming
to lie down beside him. He was fearful to speak lest he should utter obscenities.
Seeing his glance, May, with eyes lavender blue, smiled in his direction, at which he blushed and turned to follow George.
‘Isn’t he ghastly,’ said May, playing with her charm bracelet and looking at Dotty.
‘Ghastly?’ said Dotty. ‘Balfour’s not ghastly at all. He’s rather interesting. He’s very funny when you get to know him. He
got tight last night.’
‘I mean Lionel, my Lionel. He makes me sick,’ said May.
Willie, warm in his womb-world under the covering of his cap, breathed in odours of silk linings and something else, something
that was vegetable. He thought he was on his way to the annual hot-pot dinner given by the