The Book And The Brotherhood

‘I can’t. How long will it take you to get here, an hour?'

‘I can do it in an hour,' said Gerard, 'or less, but I can't immediately.'

’Why ever not?’

‘I’ve got a lot of people here, I can't just leave them, I can't go without telling them and God knows where they all are at the moment.’ He thought, I can't go without seeing Duncan. `your father's dead and you want to stay on dancing with ^{your d}runken friends.'

’I’ll _Come soon,' said Gerard, 'I J ust can't come at once, I'm sorry.

Patricia put down the receiver.

Gerard sat with closed eyes in the silence that followed.Then he started saying, 'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God', and his face in his hands and panted and moaned. Of course _he had known it was coming, he had calmly mentioned it to Levquist, but this was unlike anything which cowardly imagination could have schooled him with beforehand. He had known what he did not will to imagine, the fact, the irrevocable fact. Love, old love, sensⁱbilities and dimensions and powers of love which he had forgotten or never recoggnized_, came speeding in from all the far-spread regions of his being, hotwith Pertin_, crying and wailing with the agony of that

severance_. Never to speak to his father again, to see his smiling welcoming face, to be happy in his happiness, to experience the absolute comfort of his love. He felt remorse, not because he had been a bad son, he had not, but because he was no longer and there was still so much to say. A place wherein he himself was as in no other place had been struck out of the world. Oh my father, oh my father, oh my dear father.

He heard steps upon the stairs and hastily rose to his feet and robed his face although there were no tears on it. He turned, calm gaze to the door. It was Jenkin.

Gerard decided instantly not to tell Jenkin about his father. He would tell him later when they were driving back together to London. He did not want to start to tell and then be interrupted by one of the others. Better to say nothing. Jenkin would understand.

Jenkin, who constantly read Gerard's mind, had been aware that Gerard disapproved of what he might have thought of as Jenkin's excitement, even glee, at the little bit of drama promised by the evening. He also felt that Gerard had thought poorly of Jenkin's appreciation of Crimond's flying kilt. Jenkin was bothered too by his gaucherie with Rose, his inability to dance well, and his abrupt dismissal of her question. He too was not at all sure how drunk he was. When Rose declined the next dance saying she was tired, Jenkinmade a quick circuit looking for Duncan but did not find him. He pursued a white-clad figure who looked like Tamar, but who vanished on his approach. Tamar had by this time finished her dance with Duncan and been sent away by him with a vague, 'Well, off you go, and enjoy yourself.' She did not feel any urge or duty to stay with him, he was clearly very drunk and either did not want her to continue seeing him in this condition or had quite forgotten that she had no partner. She started to walk about aimlessly in conspicuous spaces hoping that someone she knew would see her. About the cashmere shawl, she had given up hope, perhaps someone had stolen it.

Gerard, who constantly read Jenkin's mind, was aware of the little cloud that hung over his friend and hastened to dispel it. 'My dear fellow, do you think you could find the whisky you alleged you hid? I'm fed up with this stuff.'

They went into Levquist's neat student-like bedroom with its narrow iron bedstead and washstand with basin, water jug, and soap dish, and Jenkin began foraging in Levquist's bedclothes. The bottle of whisky was found, and a carafe of water on the bedside table, handy because there was of course no bathroom or running water. Gerard tidied the bed. They took these trophies back into the main room and dosed two champagne glasses with whisky.

`It's day out there, can't we pull the curtains?'

`I suppose it is,' said Gerard, 'how ghastly!' He pulled back the curtains and let in the dreadful cold sunlight.

`I couldn't see Duncan anywhere, but I gather a lot of people are in the deer park.'

`They're not supposed to be.'

`Well, they are.'

Heavy uncertain footsteps were heard on the stairs. 'That must be Duncan,' said Jenkin, and opened the door.

Duncan blundered in and made straight for an armchair and fell into it with a crash. He stared up blankly for a moment. Then passed his hand over his face as Gerard had done earlier, frowned, and gathered himself. With an effort he sat up a little.

`Good heavens, you're soaking wet!' said Jenkin.

It was so. Duncan's trousers and part of'his jacket were drenched with water, muddy too, and muddy water was dripping darkly onto the carpet.

Duncan noticed this and said, 'Christ, what will Levquist say!'

`I'll deal,' said Gerard. He fetched two towels from the bedroom, gave one to Duncan, and with the other began to mop up the pool on the carpet, while Duncan dabbed at his clothes.

`I'm sloshed,' said Duncan. Then he explainedA fell in the river. Crazy!'

`I'm sloshed too,' said Jenkin sympathetically.

`Is that whisky? Can I have some?'

Jenkin poured out a small whisky and filled the glass up with water. Duncan took it with an unsteady hand.

More footsteps were heard on the stairs. It was Rose. She came in and saw Duncan at once. 'Duncan, dear, there you are, I'm so glad!' She could not think what to say to him next, so exclaimed, 'So you're all onto whisky, are you, no I won't have any! What's that mess on the floor?'

There was. Rose, tucking up her green dress, on her knees, began an artfuloperation with little doses of water and careful use of the towel, blending the muddy stain into the fortunately fairly dark and ancient carpet. 'I'm afraid we're messing up Levquist's towels, but the scout will replace them. Don't forget to tip him, Gerard.'

Someone was running up the stairs, stumbling in his haste, and now bursting open the door. It was Gulliver Ashe. Not immediately noticing Duncan he cried out his news. 'There's been such a to-do down there, they say that Crimond has thrown a man into nto the Cherwell!' Then he caught sight of' Duncan and the water scene and put his hand over his mouth.

`Go away, Gull, would you,' said Gerard.

Gull reeled away down the staires.

Gulliver had lost Lily Boyne; he was sorry about this, he had enjoyed dancing with her, yet he was not absolutely sorry since he had come to realise that although he had drunk nothing recently except a glass of champagne which he had discovered on the grass, he was once more feeling very drunk, and a little sick, and also extremely tired. Lily, who had in the course of dancing divested herself of her white blouse, which she had rolled up and thrown away among the dancers (where it was caught and appropriated by a young man) revealing a just decently extensive and lacy petticoat beneath, had also at last declared herself 'flaked' and gone to sit down. Gull had gone out to attend to a natural need and coming back had found her gone. It was after this that he had heard some people talking about Crimond. Expelled from Levquist's rooms he now began to wander, first round the cloister where he managed to acquire, although he didn't really want it, a glass of beer, and then out onto the main lawns between the tents.

It was now full daylight, the terrible inquisitional finalising daylight had come, sending away the enchanted forest and all upturned chairs, errant garments, and every sort of unattractive human debris. Even the tents, in the relentless sunshine, looked dirty and bedraggled. The blackbirds, thrushes, tits, swallows, wrens, robins, starlings and innumerable other birds were singing loudly, the doves were cooing and the rooks were cawing, and, nearer