'What do you mean?' 'It's not what he did. It's what I did.' 'Where?' 'Da unten. Ld-bas Dachau.' 'Willy, Willy, Willy, hang on.' 'I'm all right.' 'I mean, don't tell me.' 'You used to say tell me. Now you say don't.' 'I've gone that much more to bits, Willy. I feel so ill all the time. All right, tell me in general terms. What happened?' 'I betrayed two people because I was afraid, and they died.' 'In that inferno –. You must pity yourself too, Willy.! 'They were gassed. My life wasn't even threatened.' 'We are clay, Willy. There is no man whose rationality and goodness cannot be broken by torment. Do not think «I did it». Think it was done.' 'But I did do it.! 'That sense of ownership is pride.! 'They were gassed, Theo.' Willy was sitting in his armchair, his lame leg extended into the soft grey powdery pile of wood ash in the fireplace. Theo was sitting with his back to the fireplace on an upright chair which he had drawn up close. He looked away past Willy's head towards the long window full of glittering blue sky. His arm lay heavily upon Willy's arm, his hand cupping and caressing the curve of the shoulder. Willy stroked back his longish white hair and relaxed his face into a bland steely calm: You might be right, but I can't think in your terms. It's not even like memory. It's all just there.! 'All the time, Willy?' 'Every hour, every minute. And there's no machinery to shift it. No moral machinery. No psychological machinery.' 'We'll see, my dear. Where there's been one miracle there could be another one. Maybe you should tell me the whole thing after all.! 'Yes, I think so too.' I won't listen though, thought Theo. He's not really telling it to me. Theo moved his hand upward a little, fingering the collar of Willy's shirt at the neck. He fixed his eyes upon the dazzling window. The sunlight seemed to have got inside the glass and the blue sky was visible through a sparkling screen of splintered light. As Willy's voice murmured on, Theo tried hard to think about something else. He thought about the seagull with the broken wing which the twins had found and brought to him. Henrietta was crying and carrying the seagull which was sitting on one of her hands, while she held and caressed it with the other. The twins came running to Theo across the stones. When an animal was hurt the twins became helpess and confused. Could anything be done, could the broken wing be mended, should they go to find a vet? Theo said no, there was nothing to be done with a broken wing. He would take the bird from them and drown it quickly. It was the kindest thing, the only thing. The bird would not know what was happening. He took the seagull carefully from Henrietta's outstretched hands and told the twins to go away. They ran off at once together, Edward now in tears as well. Theo did not pause to take off his shoes or roll up his trousers, he walked straight into the sea, his shoes crunching on the sunny underwater stones. The seagull lay perfectly still in his hands, its bright eyes seeming impassive, as if calm. The bird was light, light, and the grey feathers soft, soft. Theo bent down and quickly plunged the soft grey parcel of life down underneath the water. There was a faint movement in his hands. He stood there bent for a long time, with his eyes closed, feeling the hot sun upon his neck. At last he straightened himself. He did not look down at the bedraggled thing in his hands. He dared not leave it in the sea in case the twins should see it again. He mounted the shingle and walked with wet clinging trouser legs along to the far end of the beach where he knelt and dug with his hands as deep a hole as he could in the loose falling pebbles. He put the dead bird into the hole and covered it up carefully. Then he moved a little away and lay face downward on the stones. Willy's voice continued to speak and Theo, only half listening, pressed the thought of the seagull against his heart. There was silence in the room at last. 'Would you like some tea?' said Theo. 'Yes. Would you make it?' Theo got up and went into Willy's little kitchen. He thought, what is the point here, what is the point. What can I say to him. That one must soon forget one's sins in the claims of others. But how to forget. The point is that nothing matters except loving what is good. Not to look at evil but to look at good. Only this contemplation breaks the tyranny of the past, breaks the adherence of evil to the personality, breaks, in the end, the personality itself. In the light of the good, evil can be seen in its place, not owned, just existing, in its place. Could he explain all this to Willy? He would have to try. As he filled the kettle he could see, from the corner window, a girl in a blue dress with long loose fair hair coming up the path from the beech wood. He called out, 'You've got a visitor, Willy:' 'Is it Mary?' 'No. A girl unknown.' Willy darted up and was beside his shoulder. 'Oh my God Theo, whatever shall I do? It's Jessica.' 'Who's Jessica?' 'The gazelle.' 'Aren't you pleased?' 'However did she find-out?' 'You can give her tea. I'll go away.' 'Theo, don't abandon me! Look, Theo, I can't face it. Would you mind? I'll go and hide in the graveyard. Tell her I've left Trescombe and you don't know my address and you live here now. Will you tell her? And make her believe it. Get rid of her. Come and find me when you're certain she's gone. I'll go out the back door.' The back door banged. Theo thoughtfully made the tea. The long-legged long-haired girl came resolutely up the hill. 'Hello, Jessica,' said Theo, meeting her at the door. She looked surprised. 'I wanted to see ' 'Yes, yes, you want Willy. He's not here at the moment but you can easily find him.' Theo gave Jessica minute instructions about how to reach the graveyard. He closed the door again and poured himself out a cup of tea. He felt sad, sad. 'Why look, Mingo and Montrose are sharing the basket.' 'So they are. Good-bye Mingo, good-bye Montrose.' 'They're too lazy to get up. I do hope Casie liked her present.' , of course she did, Mary. She's just miserable that you're going.' 'I couldn't get her to stop crying. Oh dear. Is it wicked to be so happy when someone else isn't?' 'No, I don't think so. It's one's duty to be happy. Especially when one's married.' 'Then I will be your dutiful happy wife, John. Have we got everything.' 'We've got a hell of a lot of things. I don't know whether we've got everything.' 'I'm rather relieved Octavian and Kate aren't here. Where was it they said they were going?' 'Petra.' 'Pierce and Barb got off all right. Wasn't it nice of the Pember-Smiths to invite Barb too?' 'Hmm. I suspect young Barb is going to keep young Pierce in order.' 'Oh John, I'm so happy. Could you just hold my handbag?' 'Your bag weighs a ton. Are you still carrying that paperweight about?'
