Dead Man Riding by Gillian Linscott Page A

anything to the point on my first visit, but it would be a start at least. As I’d expected, the men took up the idea enthusiastically. They made up a shopping list that was heavy on things like ale, Stilton and Bath Olivers and we all agreed to contribute ten shillings to a pool.
    â€˜Some progress in our little republic,’ Meredith said. ‘We now have food and money in common.’
    So from that, rather self-consciously, we did what we’d intended to do – we sat on piles of sweet-smelling hay outside the barn and studied Plato’s Republic. The classicists, Alan, Kit and Imogen, took it in turns to read a passage in the original Greek and translate. After that, we’d discuss it. As to this justice, can we quite without qualification define it as truthfulness and repayment of anything that we have received? Even though I couldn’t understand more than one word in twenty of the Greek, it was good to lie back on the grass looking up at the sky, hearing words from more than two thousand years ago drifting past like clouds on the breeze. Imogen had a pleasant, low voice, Greek or English, and while she was reading Alan stared at her so intently that she must have been conscious of it, though she gave no sign. Later we carried plates and cups to wash up in a brook that ran out of the wood into a little pool with pebbles at the bottom. I’d been wondering on and off whether I should tell anybody about the Old Man’s near collapse. I’d made him no promises but hadn’t rushed to tell Alan either. So I compromised by getting Meredith out of earshot of the others, walking along the bank.
    â€˜It looked like heart trouble to me. The strain of all this might be affecting him worse than he pretends. The question is, should Alan know?’
    â€˜In spite of the Old Man not wanting it?’
    â€˜Alan might be able to persuade him to see a doctor,’ I said.
    â€˜So we disregard his wishes for his own good?’
    â€˜Plato said you wouldn’t give a knife back to a madman, even if it belonged to him and he asked for it.’
    â€˜A reasonable point. I take it you’re not arguing literally that the Old Man’s mad?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜So the question is whether he’s such a poor judge of his own best interests that we have to intervene for him.’
    â€˜Yes. We’re doing that already with the other thing.’
    â€˜And you’re arguing that one intervention justifies another?’
    â€˜No. If anything, the reverse.’
    The Old Man had annoyed me but I still liked him enough to want him to keep his dignity. Talking to Meredith, the decision seemed to have made itself.
    â€˜I don’t think I’ll tell Alan. Not for the time being at least.’
    We’d come to the fence where the field met the wood. I turned to stroll back to the others but Meredith hesitated.
    â€˜Miss Bray, there’s another thing – rather similar in its way.’ He sounded unsure of himself, which wasn’t like him.
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜Alan. Last night he confided in me. I don’t know whether I’m right to be telling you about it or not.’ I waited. ‘You remember that conversation we had on the train?’
    â€˜About his being in love? Of course.’
    â€˜He seems to think that he’s done something to offend her quite badly but he has no notion what it might be. If that is the case, if there’s been some kind of misunderstanding, then it might be useful for him to know.’
    I stared down at the stream, visible only in snatches under a tunnel of fern and foxgloves.
    â€˜I don’t think he’s offended her.’
    â€˜What is it then? Until now he was under the impression that she didn’t dislike him at least. I know I’ve got no right to ask, only…’
    I looked up and saw the anxiety in his face. It was gone the instant he realised I was looking at him, but it had been far