bananas ⦠or anything. I jolly well wonât.â
He leaned his head back against the wall and laughed.
âItâs no laughing matter. Get away. Go away. You â¦â
âI donât mean to offend you. Believe me, Iâm sorry. I just find things funny.â
âDonât you realise that I will probably go to the police. The army ⦠we ⦠know officers in the â¦â
âI donât mean to sound patronising, but you go ahead and do that, if you feel you have to. Thatâs all right with me.â
She walked across the room and opened the door. Rain and wind burst turbulently in. The gull on the roof, disturbed by her movement, shifted its position. Its feet clawed impatiently, waiting for calmness again. She turned and looked back at the man. He leant against the wall still, a smile on his face.
âGoodbye.â
âDo you want to take your bananas with you?â
âShut up! You damn ⦠damn â¦!â
She climbed up on to the railway line and walked down the line without looking back. Far out on the horizon a ship ploughed its way towards England. It looked like hard work, pushing its way through the grey rising sea. The sand rose in sheets and flew along the beach before the wind. The sleepers were slippery and the deep cracks in them were filled with water.
Aunt Mary was crossing the hall as Nancy came in through the door. In one hand she held a cup of tea and in the other a plate of thin fingers of hot buttered toast.
âMy dear child, youâre soaking. Where have you been? Run up and change at once or youâll be all aches and pains tomorrow.â
âTea â¦â suggested Nancy.
âDonât argue. If youâre quick, the teaâll still be drinkable, itâs only just made. Your grandfatherâs actually asked for toast. Itâs amazing. Heâs so much better today, the pet. Such a relief.â
âIâll bring a cup up with me.â
âYou shouldnât dilly dally round when youâre wet like that.â
Nancy went into the drawing room and poured herself a cup of tea. The pyramid of turf in the fireplace smouldered gently. She cut a piece of sponge cake and went back out into the hall. Aunt Mary was still there.
âThere was something â¦â she said vaguely. âLook at those drips on the floor, dear. Bridie will be most upset. Drip, drip.â
âSomething?â
âWhere is deathâs sting?â sang out the old man from his room across the hall.
âComing, pet. Toast. Now what was it?â
âI hate that blooming old hymn.â
âWhere grave thy victory?â
âJust this moment.â She moved towards the door. âHarry, ah yes. Thatâs it.â
âHarry?â Nancyâs mouth was full of cake.
âHe telephoned. Luckily I wasnât in the garden ⦠all that rain. I should have been, itâs beginning to look like a jungle. I never hear the telephone when Iâm in the garden ⦠well, I do really, but Mrs Burke is so aggravating, sheâll never ring more than twice and you rush, huffing and puffing to the dreadful machine and sheâll say ⦠I didnât think anyone was in, Miss Dwyer. She knows perfectly well thereâs always someone in. No patience. Itâs not even as if she were madly busy. I suppose she canât bear to tear herself away from all the fascinating calls she listens to.â
âHarry â¦?â
She dropped a piece of cake on the carpet and stooped to pick it up.
âI triumph still if Thou abide with me.â
âOh yes. He and Maeve are expecting you to dinner. Sevenish. Her parents are going up to town to some function or other and Maeve is entertaining Harry and you to dinner. Something like that.â
âAnd you said yes ⦠Honestly, Aunt Mary!â
âI thought youâd want to go, dear.â
âHow exasperating! How â¦