Oh… I'll tell him to.
But he might not want to.
All right. I'll send you his address, and you can write to him yourself.
Will you? Would you do that? I'm sure it'd be all right if I could talk to him.
Give me your address.
He took out his notebook, and wrote it down as she dictated it. She asked:
Do you think you'll see him soon?
I don't know. I'm afraid it might not be for a long time.
Oh dear. I wish I knew why he's gone.
He said uncomfortably:
I think he was a bit hurt…
Her eyes regarded him doubtfully for a moment; then she said:
About Tommy… My cousin?
He nodded. She said:
I thought they'd tell him about that. But tell him it wasn't my fault. Please tell him that. Make him understand, won't you?
I'll try to.
Oh please… I meant to tell him about it.
He said hastily:
Oh, it wasn't just that. I think all the trouble with your father and the police worried him…
She was tapping the point of her shoe on the pavement, then swinging it in short arcs around the other foot. He said uncomfortably:
I'm afraid I'd better go…
She said sadly:
I suppose I might not see him again.
He felt a flash of something like jealousy, and pulled the belt on his raincoat tighter to shake off the feeling. He said:
No. You'll see him again.
But perhaps not for a long time.
He asked:
Will it make much difference to you?
She nodded seriously.
Of course. I liked talking to him. He knew such a lot… and he was nice. And I liked to go there.
She looked up at him, and added, with sudden candour:
I don't like my brothers and sisters much.
He thrust his hands deep into the raincoat pockets, smiling at her. He said:
You're lucky you haven't got into more trouble.
I know. But it's worth it. I don't mind getting into trouble… But I hate being bored.
He said:
If you get too bored, come and see me.
Immediately, he regretted the impulse that had made him say it, ashamed to have said it to the girl who was so important to Glasp. It was a feeling of betraying Glasp. The girl asked:
Are you a painter?
No.
What then?
A writer.
Do you live around here?
I'm afraid not. I live in Camden Town.
Is that a long way?
Not very far.
Oliver came for supper, didn't he?
That's right.
She said doubtfully:
I'd like to come. But I wouldn't have to let dad know.
He said, smiling:
I hope you're not in the habit of accepting invitations to visit strange men?
Oh no. But you're not strange.
Thank you. But you don't even know my name.
What is it?
Gerard.
Yes. I know about you. Oliver told me.
He scrawled his address and telephone number on a page of his notebook, and tore it out.
Look, take this. If you want to come, you can phone me. Do you know how to make a phone call?
She said, with a touch of scorn:
Of course.
She folded the paper carefully, and stowed it away somewhere inside the coat. He said:
I'm afraid I'll have to go now. Goodbye, Christine.
Can I come on Saturday?
Well… if you want to. Perhaps I'd better meet you somewhere. Will you phone me before then?
All right.
Will you have money for the telephone?
She nodded vigorously. He said:
Don't be too upset about Oliver.
No.
Goodbye, Christine.
Goodbye.
He walked towards the Aldgate tube, thinking: What an extraordinary child. What am I going to do with her? Could take her to Gertrude's for tea, I suppose. Then get Gertrude to run her back in the car. My God, that damn' fool Oliver!..
His mind came back to Nunne with a sudden shock; for the past ten minutes, he had completely forgotten about him. For a moment, his mind held simultaneously the face of the child, and the unrecognisable face of the woman in the morgue. Disgust lurched from his stomach like a vapour of stagnation, and was succeeded by a heavy sense of pity and sadness. He found himself saying aloud:
Poor Christine…
CHAPTER TEN
As he was about to insert his key in the front door, the telephone started to ring. He withdrew round the edge of the wall, where his shadow would not be visible against the glass. A moment later he heard Carlotte's voice saying:
Hello… No, he's not in. I've just been up to see. I'll tell him you rang. Yes, he'll ring you. Goodbye.
The bell tinkled as she hung up. He turned his key and went in. She was starting to write on the memo pad.
Oh, Mr Sorme. You just missed a telephone call.
He said: I know. I wanted to miss it.
Did you? It was Mr Nunne. He wouldn't leave a message.
If anybody rings again, will you say I'm out, please?
