'It did cross my mind that I might have been getting a spot of stick here and there for having turned the party out of doors.'
Charlie looked at him. 'Don't be ridiculous,' he said.
3
Most of the evening was all right as far as it went. When eating came to be discussed it was felt but not said that Dorothy might consider she ought to hold back a bit in a public place, while what was said was that of course Rhiannon must not be allowed to cook, so no sewin tonight. Either half-sensing the unsaid part or out of simple awkwardness, Dorothy argued for a takeaway. Alun objected that the food was certain to be vile anyway, but if you ate it on the spot at least you could insult them for it, not much of a point perhaps, sufficient though to carry that assembly. Off they sped in the twilight past the Brydan Burger Bar and up the hill, the six of them hardly filling Percy's Swedish limousine, which smelt unexpected but all right, rather like a cough-medicine factory.
When it was just too late the restaurant they chose turned out to have some sort of formal dinner going on in it, with toasts and speeches. Dorothy was subdued, talking barely half the time and making Alun reflect that they might have been too hard on her in the past and could afford to have her expire painlessly after all. The meal itself proved to be of no more than common-or-garden vileness, below the threshold of insult-incitement. Both Alun and Charlie were noted for grabbing the bill on these occasions, but tonight Percy got there first. The party spent almost the entire journey back arguing about what the place had been called. Or some of them did; others - Rhiannon first, then Sophie and Charlie - fell asleep or relapsed into silence. Percy said nothing much either, driving at ferocious speed but with great concentration. And nobody seemed to feel like going on after Alun had asserted that Welsh cooking was nothing more or less than bad English cooking, or possibly just English cooking.
It might have been anything from New Zealander income-tax allowances to the future tense in colloquial Russian that Dorothy got going on in the pub; nobody could remember afterwards, nor cared to try. Whatever it was, she made up for lost time and went critical within a few minutes. Percy got her to her feet and Sophie gave him a hand. Together they urged her towards the door, a troublesome business among the crowded and slow- reacting peasantry.
'Quite comforting, really,' said Charlie. 'Makes me feel no end posh.'
'I'd better go along too or Sophie'll never get away,' said Alun. 'Should be fun to watch too.'
'Do you really think so?'
'I find the whole thing absolutely fascinating. Somebody who-'
'No accounting for taste, is there?'
'See you in a few minutes.'
Alun had taken it for granted that Dorothy was to be loaded with what speed was possible into the limousine and whisked back to town. So clearly had Percy, but it was not to be. First she insisted on fetching the cardigan she had left in the cottage. Dragged off that, she refused to leave without wishing her hostess good night, and short of disablement there was no obvious way to drag her off _that__. So the end of it was she led the other three back to Dai the Books's, beating off assistance the couple of times she stumbled on the uneven, unlit ground of Brydan's Walk. The moon was hidden behind the high ground on the landward side.
There was a light in the front room but no occupant, and no light upstairs. As asserted many times in the last few minutes, Rhiannon had gone to bed. Oddly in view of her previous firmness of purpose, Dorothy rather passed this over. With a preoccupied look she went out to the kitchen, came back with a bottle of Banat Riesling, looked slowly but briefly about for the corkscrew and went out again.
'You can get off back to the pub now, you two,' said Percy. 'I can handle the next stage. You really shouldn't have bothered to come this far.'
'Are you sure you can manage?'
'Oh yes, after another glass or two she should go torpid quite fast. Piece of cake.' .
'Well, I'm going to have a quick one,' said Alun. There was not much chance of any real money's-worth but he would hang on a moment in case. 'That pub Scotch, it's all very well when you're not used to anything better.'
'Suit yourself.'
Percy, head bowed, had been edging along the bookshelves. Now he gave a satisfied grunt, straightened up and moved away carrying a paperback called, Alun saw, _Kiss the__ _Blood Off My Hands__. This he opened and began to read attentively while he established himself in the battered armchair with more contented noises. When Dorothy reappeared and handed him bottle and corkscrew in meek silence, he successfully eased apart the binding of his book and spread it fiat on the arm of the chair so that he could continue to read during his operation on the bottle. In due course Dorothy sat down on a stray dining-chair next to the table and got stuck into a glass of wine. Her silence had attained a serene, meditative quality.
After a sample of this, Sophie turned to Alun. 'I think we ought to be getting along to Charlie - you know.'
'Yes, yes, let's be off.' He was quite keen to leave now there was no mileage in staying. 'Er - are you sure you'll be all right?'
'Yes, thank you, Alun,' said Percy, turning a page and looking up. 'Nice evening. See you soon.' Then, after just the right hammy interval, he half-ca1led, 'Oh, Alun.'
'Yes?' said Alun without parting his jaws.
'Don't, er, don't forget what I said about Brydan now. And your heritage.'
'I won't, never fear.'
'See you stick to it, boy. Good night both.'
As soon as he and Sophie had taken five paces outside Alun said, not loudly but violently, 'That man is a _shit__. And a fucking _fool__. A _shit__, a _shit__, a _shit__.'
'What? What's the matter with him? What did he say?'
'Well, you heard him... It was what he said earlier. Anyway, never mind. He's just a _shit.'__
'What did he say earlier?'
