screaming. She was upset - rightly or wrongly doesn't matter. And you swallow it. That's an order.'
'Well, you'd know, I suppose.' Malcolm sighed again. 'All right, I'll do my best. Anyway, how's it meant to fit in with what she said to you?'
'M'm... ' Alun had whisky in his mouth, in front of his teeth actually, and he held up a finger while he put it out of the way. 'More of the same, only pointing in the other direction. I mean seeing Rhiannon, probably seeing her talking to you, that did it. Gwen wanted to bash her but she couldn't bash her direct because they're old buddies and all that, so she got at her via me, not that she didn't get at me _con__ bloody _amore__, what? No problem. Jealousy... and envy. More sort of direct envy in this case because it was one female's of another of roughly the same age and circumstances. Plain as the nose on your pikestaff. Happens every day.'
Garth's laughter was heard again faintly, or fairly faintly.
Malcolm said, 'It sounds pretty devious to me.'
'Devious my eye. When you've - '
'Sorry, I think that should be tortuous.'
'All right, tortuous my eye then. Once you've - Christ - relinquished the perverse, pig-headed expectation that women should mean what they say and say what they mean except when they're actually lying, this sort of thing gets to be all in the day's work. Tortuous, or devious, _my__... _eye__. Couldn't be more obvious and straightforward.' Alun's voice softened. 'I know Gwen's different in all sorts of ways, but she's the same in some other ways and this is one of those. Agreed?'
'Yes,' said Malcolm after almost no hesitation. 'Of course you're right. It'll just take a bit of getting used to. Well. Thanks, Alun.'
'All part of the service, boy. Now don't mention it to her again, right? Go on as if it had never happened. And be nice to her - but your own experience and common sense'll guide you there. And hey,' he went on as they rose from the table, 'what did you get up to with Rhiannon on Courcey, you old monster? The bloody girl was treading on air when she got back.'
'Oh no,' said Malcolm, turning his face away.
'_Yes__, honest. Looked about twenty years younger. Now just you watch it, Jack, okay? Sardis and Bethesda have their eye on you, see. Christ,' said Alun with regard to the time. 'Just before I go, it's marvellous to hear some of that old stuff again. Let's have an evening of it on our own without all these philistines and Ornette Coleman fans like Peter. But I was going to say, there was one of that lot used to appeal to me particularly, a trumpeter with a French name, would it be Matt, Nat... '
'Natty Dominique, a great man.. Yes, I've got quite a few tracks with him on. Fancy you remembering him.'
'Perhaps we could hear just a couple before I take off.
Didn't he do a lot with George Lewis?'
'I think Dodds more.'
These last exchanges took place as the two were filing from kitchen to sitting-room, so naturally enough Malcolm missed Alun's transitory but enormous looks of release from tension, thanksgiving to tutelary powers, lubricious glee, etc. They found the Playbox inactive, though its ruby on-light still glowed, and Garth telling the others what he had done or seen on some occasion in the past. From the way he shut up at the sight of them it could be deduced that he had not only been talking for the sake of talking but for once knew it too. Peter sat with pursed-up non-specific displeasure. Charlie faced the blank screen of the television set, if not hoping it might spontaneously jump into life any second then merely happening to have his head pointed in that direction. Percy, half settled on the table where the gramophone was, half propped against it, indicated without word or movement that he was not with the others, in no way ill disposed, just belonging to a different party close by, though about ready for his flight to be called. Nobody seemed to be drinking. After bringing them this far, vitality had given out.
'I thought we might have a last record,' said Alun. 'And perhaps a small one for the road.'
'You have one,' said Percy. 'Of either or both. Thank you for your hospitality, Malcolm. Now I think some of us could afford to be on our way, don't you? Peter, you've got transport... '
Garth drew himself up with a fierce exhalation of breath. 'I'm going to walk,' he said. 'Get some fresh air into my lungs.'
'Yes, well there's only Charlie to worry about and I'll take him home. I've got to go there anyway to pick up Dot.'
'You mean from our place?' asked Charlie, twisting round energetically in his seat. 'How do you know she's there?'
'Dorothy went to Sophie this morning for coffee and drink's.
'I mean how do you know she's still there? Have you rung Sophie?'
'She went to Sophie for coffee and drinks,' said Percy, speaking slightly louder but without in any way changing his placid, matter-of-fact tone.
'But you haven't rung Sophie.' It seemed that Charlie wanted this or something similar put into the file.
'Shut up, Charlie,' said Alun.
'Look now, the sooner we're away,' explained Percy, 'the sooner we can get our heads down.'
They were away very soon after that, all of them, including Alun, who might perhaps have been expected to seize on this capital chance of hearing his couple of tracks undisturbed, but he went off with the others muttering something about having to make an early start in the morning. So, nearly but not quite sure that Alun had come up with the right answer to the Gwen problem, and with his head swimming just slightly, Malcolm poured himself a glass of almost colourless whisky and water and played himself a last record, not all agog and on his feet now but sunk in his uncomfortable little chair.
The choice was what had once been a previously unissued alternate master of 'Goober Dance' (featuring
