«I can't read the blasted telephone number. Can you read the number?»
«I always said you needed glasses.»
Rachel ran out of the bedroom into the kitchen. I could hear Priscilla's voice saying, «Leave me alone, leave me alone.»
«Arnold, could you telephone the hospital and I'll look for the-I must have taken it into the-I ran into the sitting-room and was surprised to see a girl there. I got an impression of freshly laundered dress, freshly laundered girl, girl on a visit. She was examining the little bronzes in the lacquered display cabinet. She stopped doing this and watched me with polite curiosity while I started hurling cushions about. «What are you looking for, Bradley?»
«Bottle. Sleeping pills. See what kind.»
Arnold was telephoning.
Francis called out. I ran to the bedroom. Rachel was mopping the floor. There was a vile smell. Priscilla was sitting on the side of the bed sobbing. Her petticoat with pink daisies on it was hitched up round her waist, rather tight silken knickers cut into her thigh, making the mottled flesh bulge.
Francis, talking quickly, excitedly, said, «She was sick-I didn't really-it'll help-but a stomach pump-Julian said, «Is this it?» Without entering she thrust a hand round the door.
Francis took the bottle. «Oh that stuff-That's not-«Ambulance coming,» called Arnold.
«She can't do herself much harm with that. Need to take an awful lot. It makes one sick actually, that was why-«Priscilla, do stop crying. You'll be all right.»
«Leave me alone!»
«Keep her warm,» said Francis.
«Leave me alone, I hate you all.»
«She isn't herself,» I said.
«Get her into bed properly, snuggle down a bit,» said Francis.
«I'll make some tea,» said Rachel.
They retired and the door shut. I tried again to pull the bedclothes back, but Priscilla was sitting on them.
She jumped up, savagely pulled the blankets back, then crashed onto the bed. She pulled the clothes violently over her, hiding her head. I could hear her mumbling underneath, «Ashamed, oh ashamed-Showing me to all those people-I want to die, I want to die-« She began sobbing.
I sat down beside her and looked at my watch. It was after twelve. No one had thought to pull the curtains back and the room was still twilit. There was a horrible smell. I patted the heaving mass of blankets. Only a little of her hair was visible, with a dirty line of grey at the roots of the gold. Her hair was dry and brittle, more like some synthetic fibre than like human hair. I felt disgust and helpless pity and a prowling desire to vomit. I sat for a time patting her with the awkward ineffectual gesture of a small child trying to pat an animal. I could not make out what forms I was touching. I wondered if I should firmly pull off the covers and take her hand, but when I plucked at the blankets she burrowed deeper and even her hair disappeared.
Rachel called, «The ambulance has come.»
I said to Francis, «Could you deal with this?» I went out into the hall, past where Francis was talking to the ambulance men, and went into the sitting-room.
Julian, looking like one of my pieces of china, was back in her place by the display cabinet. Rachel was lying sprawled in an armchair with a rather odd smile on her face. Rachel said, «She'll be all right?»
