The Book And The Brotherhood

she saw, spread out on a chair, was the kilt which Crimond had been wearing at the dance. The walls were entirely covered with bookshelves. There was a television set. She backed out and investigated the two rooms at the back, one book-filled, with a narrow divan bed and door to the garden, the other a kitchen. The garden was small, tended, Crimond liked plants. jean put both her hands onto the handlebar of the bicycle to stop them from trembling. The metal, greyishly shiny, was cold and sickeningly real. She removed her hands and warmed them against the hideous beating of her heart. She noticed on the floor near the bicycle her suitcase and her handbag which she must have put down when she came in. Suppose Crimond were not there. Suppose he simply told her to go away. Suppose she had entirely misinterpreted the wordless time they had spent dancing together.

She was incapable of calling out. A glass door, locked, closed off the stairs to the first floor. She was trembling and shuddering, her hands compulsively fluttering, her jaw jerking. She saw under the stairs an open door which must lead to Ow basement. She began slowly to descend, her feet cautiously testing the hollow treads. A closed door faced her at the bottom. She touched, but did not knock, then opened it.

The basement room was huge, occupying the whole floor Apace of the house. It was rather dark, with one window _'liening onto the sunless area below the front of the house. The wooden floor was bare except where in a corner a rug lay beside a large square divan bed. The walls were bare except for a target which hung at the far end opposite the window. There was a large cupboard against one wall and beside it two long tables covered with books. Near to the target was a large desk with a lighted lamp upon it where Crimond, wearing his narrow rimless spectacles, was sitting and had been writing. He lifted his head, saw Jean, took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.

Jean began to cross the long stretch of the floor towards him. Ahe felt as if she would fall before she reached him. She picked up a chair which was standing nearby and dragged it to the drsk and sat down facing Crimond. Then she uttered a little Im-d-like cry.

'What's the matter?' said Crimond.

Jean did not look at Crimond, was indeed incapable of linking at anything in particular, since the room, the dull pale window, the lamp, the door, the bed with an old wrinkled rug Reside it, the target, the white paper on which Crimond had Keen writing, Crimond's face, Crimond's hand, Crimond's stlasses, a tumbler of water, the kilt which had somehow made its way downstairs, were all composed into a sort of vividly illuminated wheel which was slowly turning in front of her.

Crimond said nothing more, he waited, watching her while dir gasped, shook her head to and fro and opened and closed her eyes.

'What do you mean, 'What's the matter'?' said Jean. Then after a few more deep breaths, 'Have you had any sleep?'

'Yes. Have you?'

,No.'

'Then hadn't you better? There's a divan in the back room upstairs. It's not made up, I'm afraid.'

'So you weren't expecting me.'

`Pure carelessness.'

^`Were you expecting me?'

'Of course.'

<sup>`</sup>What would you have done if I hadn't come?' `Nothing.'

There was a pause. Crimond regarded her shrewdly, a little wearily. Jean looked down at Crimond's feet, in brown slippers, under the desk.

'So you possess a kilt.'

'I hired it. One can hire kilts.'

'I see you still have your target.'

^`It's a symbol.'

^‘And the guns. You'll say they are symbols too.'

‘Yes.'

`Did you plan this long before?'

'No.'

`How did you get a ticket for the dance, they were all sold out.'

`I asked Levquist.'

^`Levquist? I thought you quarrelled with him years ago?' 'I wrote and asked him. He sent the ticket by return with sarcastic note in Latin.'

<sup>`</sup>What would you have done if he hadn't sent it? `

‘Nothing.'

`You mean, oh never mind what you mean. How did you know I'd be at the dance?'

`Lily Boyne told me.'

'Did you think that was a message from me?'

‘No.'

`It wasn't.'

`I know that.'

^`What about Lily Boyne?'

^`What about her?'

`You came with her.'

‘It is customary to arrive with a woman.'

`Was it to save face in case I ignored you?'

‘No’

‘You knew I would not ignore you?'

‘Yes’

‘Oh, Crimond, why – why – why now?'

‘Well, it's worked, hasn't it?'

‘But look, about Lily -'

‘Let’s stick to essentials,' said Crimond. 'Lily Boyne is hing, she tried to make my acquaintance and I noticed her because she knew you. I like her.'

‘Why?'

‘Because she is nothing. She values herself at nil.'

'You find her despair amusing?'

‘No'

‘All right, forget her, I see why you used her. What were you writing when I arrived?'

‘ A book I have been working^, on for some time.'

‘You mean the book?'

‘A book, the book if you like.'

‘It is nearly finished?'

'No.'

'What will you do when it is finished?'

'Learn Arabic.'

'Can I help you with the book, do research like I used to?’

‘That stage has passed. Anyway you should do work of your own.’

'So you used to tell me. Are you glad to see me?'

'Yes.'

'Let's stop messing about in this conversation. I've left Duncan. I'm here. I'm yours, I'm yours for good if you want me. After last night I assume you do.'

Crimond looked at her thoughtfully. His thin lips were iliawn into a straight line. His longish very fine pale red hair had been carefully combed. His light eyes which so often gleamed and glittered with thought or sarcasm, were cold and ^pilled, hard as two opaque blue stones. 'You left me.'

'I don't know what happened,' said Jean.