looking as if she were accustomed to this and had been waiting for it all evening. When Colman raised his head, a large half-moon of teethmarks could be seen above Elvie’s meaty left breast. Perhaps anaesthetised by alcohol, she had not made a sound. As Colman straightened up, Gail’s fingers crept across the table towards Colin’s untouched mousse; she stood up, drew back her arm, and with an Amazonian heave of her bosom lobbed the heavy glass dish at his head. It struck him a glancing blow, and a gelatinous mess slid down his shirt front. He swayed slightly, then stretched his arms wide and thrust his head forward, as if he were in the pillory. “More, more,” Edmund Toye cried. Her eyes narrowed, Gail Colman reached for the pepper-mill. Sylvia shot out of her chair in alarm.
“My God,” Colin roared, “you all know each other, don’t you? You do this regularly.”
“Let’s go,” Sylvia said to him.
“Soon. Soon as we can.”
“Can’t we go now?”
Above the general racket, something penetrated to them all simultaneously, a new noise in the room. It was a quiet snuffling, a sighing, a series of little squeaks. It emanated from Mrs. Toye, who now sat swaying in her chair, crying softly. Colman realigned himself with the table, stumbled back to it, and resumed his seat. He put his elbows into the debris of the food, and peered closely at Charmian.
“I say, pass the port,” Frank said. “It’s going the wrong way.”
“Shut up, Frank,” Frostick said, with no amiability. Charmian was fumbling for her handkerchief. She found it, then looked at it, bunched up in her fist, as if she did not know how it got there or what it was for. Her eyes had become dreamy and huge with tears, her mouth quivered, and her voice had broken down into a plaintive bleat.
“So delighted, so euphoric,” she said, “always the same when you’re pregnant, you don’t want to tell people, tempting fate, you know, not that I expected any trouble but you get that funny feeling and you can’t help worrying, but Edmund goes and tells everybody right away. He can’t contain himself, bursting with pride, well I think men are, don’t you?” Charmian, eyes glazing, addressed the empty air. “I mean it must seem so sentimental to you, I expect you get tired of people enthusing, but it really is so wonderful, absolutely the most wonderful thing in the world, I remember I absolutely melted when Jerome was put into my arms, and it was the same with Ariana so I know it works with girls too. Oh, and such an absolutely super super feeling, each one like a little miracle, each tiny perfect little finger—”
“She’s cracked up,” Frostick said.
“—and each tiny perfect toe.”
Charmian subsided into muffled sobs. The room fell quiet. Then suddenly Frank rose to his feet with a deafening clatter, slapping his palms down on the table; extending one arm, gripping the table with the other, he commenced a repertoire of humming and twanging which Colin took to be the sounds of an orchestra tuning up. Ambitiously extending both arms, he bellowed two lines:
“Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrive.”
“Can’t remember any more,” he said, and sat down abruptly. His whole body seemed to sag, and he made a soft snorting noise. His head lolled, and a trail of spittle ran down his chin. His body lurched over to the left side of his chair, and stayed there, leaning precariously over the arm.
“He’s had a seizure,” Sylvia cried, jumping to her feet.
Frostick looked at her with contempt and annoyance. “He’s pissed,” he said. “He’s had far more than we have. He drinks in the kitchen between courses. For God’s sake, sit down, woman, and give me the port if you don’t want any.”
Charmian was still crying, wiping her nose noisily from time to time. Colin knelt by Frank’s chair and took his pulse. He could not find it, but did not assume from this that Frank was dead; it was more a formality than a practical proceeding.
“Sylvia,” he said, “why don’t you take Charmian upstairs, and loosen her clothes, and get her to lie down for a few minutes?”
Sylvia dragged her eyes from Frank. “Right,” she said. She took Charmian firmly by the arms and raised her from her chair. Mrs. Toye suffered herself to be led from the room. Colin saw with admiration that, although Sylvia was trembling a little from the multiple shocks of the last ten minutes, her expression was firm and her gait quite steady.
“Upsy-daisy,” she said to Mrs. Toye, when they reached the bottom of the stairs. He heard her retrieve the tiny lady from a tumble, and set her on her feet again. “Up we go, there’s a good girl.”
And up they went. Colin surveyed the wreckage. Frank was still lolling half in and half out of his chair, one knuckle brushing the carpet. Colman and Frostick were mixing port with brandy. Gail Colman had resumed her sulk, and Elvie, whilst sitting bolt upright, appeared only semi-conscious.
Now Yarker sidled up to Colin and took him by the sleeve. He was breathing heavily. Colin saw that his freckled skin was almost entirely covered in fierce ginger hairs like those found in doormats. “I say,” said Yarker, “what’s all this about Frank having no more whisky! It’s nonsense, I say. Of course there must be whisky.”
Colin saw that he must placate Yarker before he would make any progress. He appealed to the table. “Have you any idea where Frank keeps his spare whisky? Yarker seems to think he must have a supply.”
“Yarker is not known to be wrong,” Toye said.
Frostick looked up. He seemed to be giving the matter consideration. “We could look for it,” he offered.
“Good idea,” Colin said. “It’s a big house, so we’d better split up.”
“Look, I’ll take command of this exercise,” Yarker snapped. “Volunteers for the study?”
“Me,” Colin said promptly.
“You’ll not find it there,” Yarker said. “He spends too much time in there. If it were in there, he’d have drunk it. Stands to reason. Moral: never volunteer.”
