The Nice and the Good

marrow to his mouth.

He does stare so, she thought, but I rather like it. Bother, now I've opened that box I can't give it to John. I'll have to take it away with me. Or else give it to Fivey!

She resumed her prowling. 'What's that?' She pointed to a bowl-like steel sink with a round gaping orifice at the bottom of it.

'A waste disposal unit,' said Fivey with his mouth full of marrow.

'Oh. I've never seen one. Let's dispose of some waste.'

Fivey came over to demonstrate. He took a soggy newspaper bundle out of the rubbish bin, dropped it down the hole, and turned a switch. There was a formidable grinding sound.

'It's rather alarming, isn't it,' said Kate. As she leaned forward over the machine she rested her white nylon gloves for a moment on the edge of the bowl. Then, with a flash like the escape of a fish, one of the little white gloves slid down over the slippery steel surface and into the dark churning void below.

After it, with almost equal quickness, went Fivey's spotted hand, but not quick enough to save the little glove from its fate. Half a second later Kate had gripped Fivey by the wrist.

'Oh, be careful, be careful!'

They stood quite still for a moment staring at each other.

Kate drew back a little, drew him back still holding the thick hairy wrist in a firm grip. Then she released him, sat down, and reached out automatically for the bottle of slivovitz.

She said, 'That quite shook me. You must be terribly careful with that dangerous thing. I think I need a drink. Could you get two glasses?'

Fivey put two glasses on the table and sat down, not opposite to Kate but beside her. With a hand that trembled slightly Kate poured out the slivovitz. She had forgotten its quite extra ordinary sexy smell. She could still feel the texture of Fivey's hairy wrist engraved upon the palm of her hand. She turned towards him and they drank. her, ms arinx in ms rignt nano, ms iert nano upon the tame. The big extended relaxed hand looked suddenly to Kate like a couchant animal. It's all very odd, thought Kate, I'd quite forgotten the taste of slivovitz, it's wonderful, wonderful. She laid her own hand down very slowly and carefully on top of Fivey's hand, moving it about slightly to feel the hair, the skin, the bone. They continued to stare at each other.

Then with a kind of formal deliberation, as if he were about to take hold of her for a dance, Fivey put down his glass, moved Kate's glass out of the way, edged his chair nearer, and began to slide his arm round her shoulder. The chestnutcoloured moustaches grew nearer and nearer and larger and larger. Kate closed her eyes.

'Octavian, do stop laughing, I think you're awful!'
'You mean to say the fellow actually made a pass at you?'
'No, darling, I've already explained. I made a pass at him!'
'And then you slipped him a tenner to visit his old mother!'
'It was the least I could do.'
'Kate darling, you're mad, I adore you!'
'I must say I was rather surprised myself. It must have been something to do with his being Irish. Or something to do with my glove falling into the waste disposal unit.'
'Or something to do with the slivovitz!'
'Oh God, the slivovitz! We drank the whole bottle! I've got the most ghastly headache.'
'Anyway, you've proved he's heterosexual!'
'I don't know about that. He might be both. He's terribly sweet, Octavian, just like a marvellous animal. And such a simple nature, straight out of the Irish countryside.'
'His conduct seems to me to have been far from simple. London is full of men who would faint with joy if they could get around to kissing you after a year's acquaintance, let alone twenty-five minutes flat!'
'Oh Octavian, that heavenly moustache!'
'Well, you're in a proper fix now with Ducane, aren't you, with his valet as your fancy man!'
Well, yes, I din – Uetavtan, do you think 1 ougm to tell Ducane? It's rather awful, isn't it?'
'Fivey's not likely to tell him, anyway!'
'It depends what terms they're on. Maybe they're in bed together at this very moment, discussing it just like us and laughing their heads off!'
'Come, you don't think that.'
'No, of course I don't. But it's all most embarrassing. Whatever would the others think if they knew what I'd been up to while they were soberly shopping!'
'Think of the scenes at the dinner table. The surreptitious glances. The hands touching when the soup arrives. I shall enjoy every moment of it!'
'Oh dear! Do you think John would be hurt?'
'Yes, I do think he would be hurt. And he'd never believe you started it. He doesn't know you like I do! And he might sack Fivey.'
'You mean he wouldn't understand?'
'No.'
'Well, in that case I can't tell him, can I? I'd hate to get poor Fivey into trouble.'
'Did you leave a note for Ducane?'
'No. And I took away the bottle and the rest of the marrons!'
'And you didn't tell Fivey whether or not to say you'd called? You're a very inefficient intriguer. You'd better ring him up tomorrow morning!'
'I can't. Oh Octavian, I am dreadful. No, I'll just have to leave it, and if John mentions my having called I'll say something vague.'
'Well, you've certainly entertained me. Never a dull moment with you around. Ready?'
'Ready, darling. Oh Octavian, it's such fun being married to you.'

Eighteen

Pierce and Uncle Theo and Mingo were down on the beach together. Uncle Theo was sitting up, with Mingo's head and front paws on his lap. Pierce, who had been swimming, was extended upon his face, his arms limply stretched out above his head. For some time now Theo had been contemplating the lean stretched out body beside him, first wet, now dry, and baked to a light and almost uniform shade of biscuity brown.

As there were no natives in sight Pierce had been swimming naked. Uncle Theo sighed deeply, consuming the sigh inside himself so that it should not be audible.

Uncle Theo's right hand was automatically twisting and caressing Mingo's woolly fur. Mingo was generally agreed to be more like a sheep than a dog, and the twins were convinced that he must have sheep ancestry. Mingo's eyes were closed, but a faint vibrating of his hot body, a sort of internalized tailwag, showed that he was awake. Uncle Theo's gaze brooded upon the limp hunched shoulders, the jutting shoulder-blades, the slim sweeping waist, the thin yet firm hips and the long straight legs of what Willy Kost had called 'a certain kouros'. The soles of Pierce's feet, which Uncle Theo tould just see by leaning forward a little, were pleasantly wrinkled and dusted over with sand. They would be nice and curious to touch, the skin hardened and yet tender. They would taste of sea salt.

Uncle Theo's left hand, in the small space between himself and the boy, fingered the mauve and white pebbles on the beach. These stones, which brought such pleasure to the twins, were a nightmare to Theo. Their multiplicity and randomness appalled him. The intention of God could reach only a little way through the opacity of matter, and where it failed to penetrate there was just jumble and desolation. So Theo saw it, and what was for the twins a treasury of lovable individuals (it grieved the twins that they could not distinguish every stone with their attentions and carry it into the house) was for Theo an expanse of abomination where the spirit had never