Free The Red And The Green by Iris Murdoch

Andrew. ‘It’s all very well for people in places of safety to exhort us all to fight. But once one’s been at close quarters with the business it’s another matter.’
    There was a short silence. ‘How close quarters have you been at?’ asked Pat, who very well knew the answer to his question.
    Andrew flushed and frowned. ‘Well, I can’t say I’ve seen any action yet. I wasn’t long in France.’
    â€˜It was smart of you to join the cavalry,’ said Cathal. ‘We all know the cavalry are kept miles behind the front line.’
    â€˜That’s not true as it happens. And at least I’ve joined the army, I’m not just sitting at home or playing at soldiers in the back garden like some people.’
    Cathal stood up, almost overthrowing the table. Frances and Kathleen started to speak in raised voices.
    At that moment an extraordinary sound was heard just outside the room. It consisted of a series of loud resounding bumps accompanied by a tinkle of breaking glass and a human voice protesting in a traditional manner. Silence followed. Pat, interpreting the phenomenon, which was familiar to him in analogous forms, concluded that his stepfather, carrying some bottles of whiskey, must have fallen down the second flight of stairs, which, after creeping past the drawing-room door, he had been cautiously mounting. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,’ said Kathleen. There was a general rush to the door.
    Barnabas Drumm, wearing his hat, was sitting on the floor with his back against the newel post. A wide area of broken glass surrounded him, and from an extensive dark stain on the carpet there rose an overwhelming odour of whiskey. Barnabas looked sideways at the group in the doorway. Although he must have been perfectly aware that his predicament could amuse nobody and indeed must be causing a variety of different chagrins to all present, he could not help clowning it a little. He sat there with legs outstretched and began to whistle through his teeth.
    Kathleen passed him by, stepping over him, and half ran along the landing. She returned in a moment with a dustpan and brush and, ignoring her husband, began to pick up the larger pieces of glass and put them into the pan. She worked slowly, in a resigned manner resembling the low voice she used to her sons, putting a quiet bitterness into the droop of her head.
    Frances said, ‘Are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?’
    Cathal retired back into the drawing-room and shut the door sharply behind him. He was always wounded and affronted by his stepfather’s total lack of dignity.
    Andrew put his hand on Frances’ arm, as if to protect her from a rowdy scene.
    Annoyed by all these reactions and infuriated by the author of the incident, Pat said, ‘For God’s sake get up!’ He pulled off his stepfather’s hat and jammed it on to the post with a force which nearly split the crown.
    With a good deal of dumb show, rubbing his bottom and his elbows, Barnabas began slowly to rise. He said, ‘Isn’t it just the like of me to do a thing like that.’
    Barnabas Drumm was a short round man with a mild flabby face and a large golden moustache a little grizzled at the ends or soiled with Guinness. His brown hair fuzzed tonsure-fashion round a neat bald spot. The puzzled light blue of his eyes, invaded now by streaky reds and yellows, retained a childish quality. He still had a mouthful of good teeth and showed them often in a smile which though invariably gentle was also a reminder that he had once been better armed for the battle of life than he now seemed in general to be. Women, speculating about why level-headed Kathleen Dumay should have taken up with this muddle of a man, were divided between those who said that she had been pushed around by her first husband and now wanted someone she could push around, and those who voted Barney to be ‘really rather sweet’.
    â€˜Hello,