sitting-room with Sally on his knee they had drifted still further. As his lips touched her grape-smooth cheek and the circle of her surrounding fragrance overwhelmed him, heforgot. The soft pastel shades of the room seemed infinitely restful and delicate. The warmth of the fire kissed the dove-grey carpet; the lilac curtains blotted out the street.
*
Ten minutes must have passed … George heard the incongruous jangling of the door bell from another world. Would he answer it? There might have been an accident in the street … a fire in another flat … no alternative. Sally got up from his knee …
‘Won’t be a moment.’
The Angel of Death would have been more welcome to George than the sight before him. He started back as though from the deadliest of vipers. Where was Moses now …?
The street lamps gave off a dim light but this spectre was all too apparently human. David’s breath came in small steamy clouds clearly visible in the cold night air. David smiled.
‘I didn’t like to telephone because …’
In a flash of apocalyptic light George saw what had to be done … the only thing … his breath came more easily … the stone in his stomach weighed less. His legs were no longer wax under a tropical sun. He was aware of the existence of his tongue again.
‘You must be famished … long journey … nice little pub round the corner … ham sandwiches … back in a minute … wait here.’
‘But I’ve just eaten and anyway I’m under age for pubs. I can’t drag you out at this hour of night having just turned up on you without a word. If I can just come in for a moment I’ll explain …’
David looked at George with alarm … he had obviously been drinking. It really was just his luck to have come on one of his nights. He went on anxiously:
‘It’s all quite simple, you see …’
‘Of course it’s simple … now look, no nonsense … I know you haven’t eaten … just being polite … no need for that … I’ll be back …’
George floundered back into the flat through a wall of water … at last he saw the sitting-room door.
‘Behind the sofa … disaster … no time … I’ll … later .. you can come out when you hear the door,’ he whispered incoherently.
He’d left open the flat door. He saw the sitting-room door was open too. She was about to speak … how loud? … must stop her. She was standing a good six feet away … nothing for it. He dived towards her and caught his foot on the edge of one of the white Chippendale chairs. The thick dove-grey carpet absorbed a good deal of the noise, but not all.
She was struggling fiercely as they both hit the ground … George got a hand over her mouth. He started to drag her behind the sofa. She was kicking out viciously with her high-heeled shoes. One of them flew off, narrowly missing his head. He pinned her down safely out of sight. Her eyes were wide with horror. He must have gone mad. Oh God … George was hissing at her with a finger over his mouth, then he was whispering again.
‘He’s here … outside … here … stay … I’ll explain … later.’
Sally obeyed with the blind terror of an animal hypnotised with fear. George emerged from behind the sofa still on his hands and knees. He felt desperately weak. Suddenly he saw the shoe in the middle of the floor. With the last supreme effort he hurled himself on top of it. He looked up just as David appeared in the doorway.
‘I heard a noise so I thought you must have fallen down … and when you didn’t come back I felt I’d better …’
David’s alarm redoubled as he saw George writhing across the floor evidently trying to reach an arm-chair.
There was one thought in George’s mind: he had to get rid of the shoes under a chair. With his back to David he managed to do so undiscovered.
He might be having a fit … what did one do when people had fits? But George made a miraculous recovery. He was on his feet again. David saw a nasty-looking cut on his forehead
*
Ten minutes must have passed … George heard the incongruous jangling of the door bell from another world. Would he answer it? There might have been an accident in the street … a fire in another flat … no alternative. Sally got up from his knee …
‘Won’t be a moment.’
The Angel of Death would have been more welcome to George than the sight before him. He started back as though from the deadliest of vipers. Where was Moses now …?
The street lamps gave off a dim light but this spectre was all too apparently human. David’s breath came in small steamy clouds clearly visible in the cold night air. David smiled.
‘I didn’t like to telephone because …’
In a flash of apocalyptic light George saw what had to be done … the only thing … his breath came more easily … the stone in his stomach weighed less. His legs were no longer wax under a tropical sun. He was aware of the existence of his tongue again.
‘You must be famished … long journey … nice little pub round the corner … ham sandwiches … back in a minute … wait here.’
‘But I’ve just eaten and anyway I’m under age for pubs. I can’t drag you out at this hour of night having just turned up on you without a word. If I can just come in for a moment I’ll explain …’
David looked at George with alarm … he had obviously been drinking. It really was just his luck to have come on one of his nights. He went on anxiously:
‘It’s all quite simple, you see …’
‘Of course it’s simple … now look, no nonsense … I know you haven’t eaten … just being polite … no need for that … I’ll be back …’
George floundered back into the flat through a wall of water … at last he saw the sitting-room door.
‘Behind the sofa … disaster … no time … I’ll … later .. you can come out when you hear the door,’ he whispered incoherently.
He’d left open the flat door. He saw the sitting-room door was open too. She was about to speak … how loud? … must stop her. She was standing a good six feet away … nothing for it. He dived towards her and caught his foot on the edge of one of the white Chippendale chairs. The thick dove-grey carpet absorbed a good deal of the noise, but not all.
She was struggling fiercely as they both hit the ground … George got a hand over her mouth. He started to drag her behind the sofa. She was kicking out viciously with her high-heeled shoes. One of them flew off, narrowly missing his head. He pinned her down safely out of sight. Her eyes were wide with horror. He must have gone mad. Oh God … George was hissing at her with a finger over his mouth, then he was whispering again.
‘He’s here … outside … here … stay … I’ll explain … later.’
Sally obeyed with the blind terror of an animal hypnotised with fear. George emerged from behind the sofa still on his hands and knees. He felt desperately weak. Suddenly he saw the shoe in the middle of the floor. With the last supreme effort he hurled himself on top of it. He looked up just as David appeared in the doorway.
‘I heard a noise so I thought you must have fallen down … and when you didn’t come back I felt I’d better …’
David’s alarm redoubled as he saw George writhing across the floor evidently trying to reach an arm-chair.
There was one thought in George’s mind: he had to get rid of the shoes under a chair. With his back to David he managed to do so undiscovered.
He might be having a fit … what did one do when people had fits? But George made a miraculous recovery. He was on his feet again. David saw a nasty-looking cut on his forehead
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