I stared at these deadly words. They could only mean something catastrophic. And the incomprehensibility of this visitation was terrifying. Francis did not know this address. Someone must have found out, how? Arnold presumably. We had made some slip, how, when, what, some fatal mistake. Even now Arnold was on his way here and Francis was trying to warn me.
Julian called, «Yoo hoo!»
I said, «Coming,» and emerged. I had to get to the telephone at once and without letting Julian know.
«I think it's lunch time, don't you?» said Julian. «Let's fetch the wood after.» She was putting the blue- and-white check tablecloth onto the table again. She put the jug of flowers in the centre of the table, from which it was always ceremonially removed as we sat down to eat. Already there were these customs.
«But we can go then on the way,» said Julian.
«They may be shut this afternoon. And we may not want to go that way.»
«I'll come with you, then.»
«No, you stay here. Why don't you go and pick some of that watercress we saw? I'd love some for my lunch.»
«Oh good, yes, I'll do that! I'll get a basket. Don't be long.» She pranced off.
I went to the car, then failed to start it in my agitation. At last it started and I set off bumping horribly slowly along the track. By road the nearest village was where our big church was. There must be a telephone box there. The church was just outside the village on the side towards the sea, and I could recall nothing of the place from our night arrival. I passed the garage. I had thought of asking the garage man if I could use his telephone, but it might, not be private. I drove past the church and turning a corner saw the village street'and a public telephone box.
I stopped outside it. Of course the box was occupied. Inside it a girl, gesticulating and smiling, turned her back on me. I waited. At last the door opened. I found I had no change. Then the operator would not answer. Finally I achieved a reverse charge call to my own number and heard Francis, who had picked up the receiver at once, babbling at the other end.
«Francis, hello. How did you know where I was?»
«Oh Bradley-Bradley-«
«What's the matter? Has Arnold found out? What sort of a mess have you made of things?»
«Oh Bradley-«
«What is it, for God's sake? What's happened?»
There was silence, then a high whining sound. At the other end of the line Francis was crying. I felt sick with fear.
«What-?»
«Oh Bradley-it's Priscilla-«What?»
«She's dead.»
I became suddenly and strangely conscious of the telephone box, the sunshine, somebody waiting outside, my own staring-eyed face in the mirror.
«How-?»
«She killed herself-she took sleeping tablets-she must have had them hidden-I left her-I shouldn't have done-we took her to hospital-but it was too late-oh Bradley, Bradley-«She is really-dead?» I said, and I felt that she
