'Well it is quite, a help I mean. One of us had to work out a way of us going on being friends.'
'Had to? She's not nice enough to be a friend of yours. '
'She's not so bad. When it's been long enough that sort of thing stops mattering.'
'You let her down too lightly.'
'It's much too late to start letting people like Gwen down heavily. Let's go outside. Malcolm's obviously on his way.' Rhiannon picked up her shoulder-bag. As they moved Rosemary put an arm round her waist.
'Don't you mind about, well, any of it?'
'What are you talking about, of course I bloody well mind. But that's all I do, I stop myself doing any more than that. Like brooding or going back or joining things up, no point in it. As long as I don't _know__. And this isn't knowing.'
'Mum, I wish you'd let me - '
'Let's not say any more about it now.'
The garden in front of the house was not large but it had the bright green grass often to be found in this part of the world and a few flowers in half-overgrown beds, including an unexpected treat in the shape of a large clump of Canterbury bells. Nelly crashed into the side of it, then doubled back up the path effortlessly surmounting the obstacle presented by each three-inch-deep step. A good view stretched almost due south, over woods and shadowed lawns down over an unseen cliff to a wide stretch of sand shining wetly in the sun and, about as far out at the moment as it ever went hereabouts, the sea with half a dozen small boats sailing. Some cloud was drifting near the horizon but not much and none of it dark. There was nothing ugly or dull anywhere.
'You are looking forward to this do, aren't you, Mum?'
'Oh yes. Well... yes.'
'What's the not-so-good part?'
'Well, he's... He's a very sweet chap without a nasty or unkind thought in his head but he's a bit wrapped up in himself. He's liable to say things when he hasn't thought how they'll affect other people, just because he wants to say them. Just sort of blurts them out.'
'Such as he's never loved anybody but you in all his life?'
'Sort of thing, yeah.'
'Well if it's no worse I don't think you have much to worry about. Surely you can manage that. Yon must have had plenty of practice.'
'Oh, come on, dear.'
Rosemary looked at her mother for a moment before she spoke again. 'Of course, I suppose he might embarrass you about Gwen and so on.'
'No, he understands about not doing things like that, and besides he won't think anything happened.'
'How do you mean, Mum?'
'She'll have made him believe her version.'
'_Made__ him?'
'Yes, nothing to it with him if she sticks to it, and she will.'
'Well, I dare say you'd know.'
Turning to address the dog, who watched her with an air of stark terror, Rhiannon said, 'You're not coming today. I'm sorry, but you're not.'
'Oh my God,' said Rosemary. 'You don't seriously imagine she can understand you, I hope.'
'It wouldn't do to be too sure of that. Probably not now, but she'll understand everything like that by the time she's grown up, and there's no knowing when they start. All part of the training.'
'Well, she's your dog... Is this him now?'
'I think... Yes.'
'Mum, if you're going to go out looking as nice as you do now I'm afraid you'll just have to grit your teeth and face up to him saying he loves you. Now... '
Mother and daughter proceeded to stand to. Without waiting for orders Rosemary went and dragged the puppy out from the laurel bush she had bolted under and held her in her arms. Rhiannon turned and put her hair right by her reflection in a sitting-room· window, then nearly snapped off the half-open yellow rose she had had her eye on all along but had left on the plant as long as possible. Finally the two moved a little apart from each other so as not to look too lined-up and organized.
When he had got out of his very shiny bright-blue car and at a second attempt shut its driver's door, Malcolm revealed himself to be wearing a hacking jacket in dark red, green and fawn checks that were too large by an incredibly small amount, cavalry-twill trousers he must have been uncommonly fond of, a pale green I'm-going- out-for-the-day-with-my-old-girl-friend cravat or ascot and, thank goodness, a plain shirt and ordinary brown lace-up shoes. Seen closer to, he proved to have an ample shaving-cut on his cheek, about like a boil on the end of his nose to him and not worth a second glance to anybody else. He carried a florist's plastic-wrapped bouquet of a good forty-quid's-worth of red roses and pink carnations which he handed over to Rhiannon fast and at arm's length.
'Lovely to see you,' he muttered, obviously discarding on the spot an earlier draft, and called 'Hallo' with unmeant abruptness to Rosemary, whom he had met more than once before but never for long, and had not bargained on seeing now. Then he took in the puppy and loosened up a little. 'Ah, now here's a splendid fellow and no mistake.'
'Hallo, Malcolm,' said Rosemary, 'female fellow actually,' and went on with exemplary stuff about how he
