'I'm going to see the Colonel and ask for a short pass on compassionate grounds. I told him a bit about this yesterday. Will you drive me to Lucy's?'
'Of course.'
'I'll see you at your jeep in a few minutes.'
As Hunter moved away, Leonard turned in the seat of his car and caught his eye.
'How's he taking it?'
'I don't know,' said Hunter. 'I can't tell.'
'I'm sure he's a good brave lad. It'll bring out the best in him.'
'I expect so. I hope it brings out the best in her too.'
'Hullo, Padlock. Fox calling. No sign of Optimus. I say again, no sign of Optimus. Over.'
'Hullo, Fox,' said Leonard into his microphone. 'Roger. Out.'
He looked up, knuckling the sweat off his dark upper lip. His earlier animation had departed.
'I can't think where he's got to,' he said accusingly. 'Has he stopped for a kip or what? The defense detachment ought to have spotted him fifteen or twenty minutes ago.'
'Don't worry, he'll turn up. I'll see you later.'
'Hullo, George,' Leonard was saying as Hunter left him.
'I'm sorry I've been so long, Max,' said Churchill when he appeared. 'I had to clear this with Venables as well. I've got until oh-nine-hundred hours tomorrow.'
'Good.'
Hunter reversed his jeep out of the line of vehicles and they moved slowly down the rough track up which the convoy had crawled a couple of hours earlier. At first the soil was covered only in thin grass, with outcroppings of grey rock here and there, but presently ferns and low bushes appeared, and by the time they had joined a metaled road, a single carriageway with passing places, they were in wooded country. The greens of the foliage were very brilliant and the undergrowth dense for England. At one point a small stream ran down among rocks. Churchill looked out of the window at it and said,
'I knew this was going to happen.'
'No you didn't, James. You thought it might happen and now it has. It's nothing to do with anything else that's happened. The fact that you know about some things can't cause other things to happen. Don't make patterns out of coincidences. All pattern-making is bad.'
'The other night you said you agreed with me. About the node.'
'I said I saw what you meant. I didn't want to argue with you then. I don't now, either. I just think that reading significances into things makes them worse, not better.'
'I'd sooner do that than concentrate on… And I'm not creating a pattern, I'm recognizing the pattern that's been there all along. The over-all pattern. It's an evil one. It's got death in it, you see.'
'You mustn't talk like that. The whole thing is totally random. All chance. Nothing and nobody behind it or in it or anywhere at all.'
'I know there's nobody there. But there are such things as patterns, even when we know nobody willed them. Runs of bad luck, as I said. And a system that runs itself is still a system. You don't have to believe in a weather god to find a climate unbearable.'
'Your job is to find a way of making this bearable. Never mind about whether it ought to be bearable.'
'Yes, I'm going to try. I don't want to talk any more now.'
When they arrived, Lucy came out of the drawing-room and kissed them both. She had been crying.
'How is she?' asked Churchill.
'She's taking it very well. At least I think she is. She hasn't said anything. She's lying down at the moment.'
'Right. Thanks for the lift, Max.'
When Churchill had gone, Lucy said, 'Come and have a drink.'
'Thank you, I do rather fancy one.'
They sat down side by side on a couch in the drawing-room. Hunter had never seen the place before when it was not littered with bottles of gin, bottles of tonic, bowls of melting ice and overflowing ashtrays. With the sunlight slanting in and the furniture in slightly unfamiliar positions, the room looked as if it had turned over a new leaf. In view of what had happened, perhaps this might turn out to be so.
'How bad is the news? Are there any details?'
'It's cancer.' Lucy spoke more hoarsely than usual. 'That's as much as they say they know. She's to go in tomorrow to be operated on and to have treatment.'
'Good. They're getting on with it, then.'
'Max, what causes these things?'
'Nobody knows. There are plenty of theories.'
