The Book And The Brotherhood

of each other. Rather the contrary.'

These few words were, characteristically, the extent of Duncan's report.

‘Oh, I'm so glad!' said Rose, `I'm so glad!' and kissed him.

Then, with his permission, she ran upstairs to Jean. Jean cried, Rose cried. Jean had scarcely more to say, except for murmuring that she was relieved and happy and felt she had come out of a nightmare into the real world.

Then Jean came downstairs, Rose ran to tell Annushka, who already knew of course and came into the drawing room to be kissed by Jean and Duncan. Rose opened a bottle of champagne, she and Jean cried some more, they had lunch.

After lunch Jean rested, Duncan sat in_. the library reading Gibbon, Rose telephoned Gerard. Then Rose rested. She fell into a marvellous sleep and dreamt about an exceedingly beautiful garden in which Rose and Jean and Tamar were dancing with some children. After that they all had tea and talked ordinary talk. Rose suggested and they agreed that Rose should return to London and leave them to themselves for a while at Boyars, so that Jean's ankle could get better: the sprained ankle had assumed a special importance, symbol more painful dislocations. Rose stayed that night and then departed. Of course she and Gerard agreed in

fuhaps of deeperse sta the discussions which at once ensued that there was so much to mend, so much to be said, so many gestures to be made and accepted, it would be a long time before those two could be at peace together. Rejoicing was premature, what had really happened remained to be seen. They did rejoice however, and were glad to think of Jean and Duncan together at Boyars, and to have an interval before the anxieties attendant on their return to London, and reintegration into something like their former life. It was agreed that nothing could ever be the same, after the honeymoon at Boyars the recriminations were bound to begin, there was so much resentment and so much pain to be somehow worked through and worked off, it would be a long time before their reunion could be established as secure. Besides, what had really happened between Jean and Crimond, and how would what had happened affect Jean and Duncan? Might Crimond suddenly reappear in the role of Demon King? Along these lines Rime and Gerard and Jenkin went on speculating for some time and Gulliver and Lily and Patricia and Gideon and everyone. in Duncan's office and large numbers of other people less closely concerned had the pleasures of similar, and often less charitable, speculation.

Rose would have been happy in these days, for she believed having seen them together, that Jean and Duncan would be `all right', had it not been for her anxiety about Tamar. Jenkin had of course not divulged to anyone what Tamar had told him. Gerard, after a cautious enquiry, sheered off the subject which was evidently secret, and ^he said nothing to Rose about Tamar's extraordinary arrival at Jenkin's house. Rose knew that Tamar had been 'in a state', had run away from home to stay with Lily, and was now back with Violet. Rose had written to Tamar asking her to lunch, but had had no reply Gerard and Jenkin seemed to have nothing to say ^on the subject of Tamar's troubles. Neither had Lily, whom Rose had rung up. Violet's flat was not on the telephone. Rose had been making up her mind to write to Violet, or else to appear unexpectedly at her flat one evening, when the drama of Jean's accident took her to Boyars. On her return to London their was still no letter from Tamar. Rose had written to Violet but had had no reply.

Now it was Tuesday, and the bell at Rose's flat had rung punctually at ten. Crimond had come up the stairs and was in Rose's sitting room.

Rose's first surprise was the extraordinary effect upon her of Crimond's presence in the room. It seemed like some fault of nature. How could he be here? Of course she had seen him not long ago at Gerard's and had, even more lately, been alone with him in his house. But to find him standing there in her own room, waiting for her to ask him to sit down, was positively weird. She felt the electric field round about him and it made her twitch.

He had left his overcoat in the hall, the door was shut, the electric fire was on. Outside the sun was shining on the white stucco fronts of the houses opposite. Crimond was wearing a black jacket, perhaps the one ⁱⁿ which she had last seen him, and a clean white shirt and a tie. The jacket was visibly frayed and worn, but he looked, for him, quite presentable. On the last occasion he had resembled a priest. This time he looked more like a penurious young writer, tired, rootless, clever, frail. He gazed at her with a sad look, then looked around at her room. He said, his first words, 'I've never been here before.’

Rose said 'Yes' to this evident truth. She noticed, now more particularly, his accent, which sounded rather affected, Scots overlaid with Oxford. She felt awkward, had not planned here they were to sit, had somehow imagined that their brief colloquy could take place standing up. She decided it would be more business-like, less like a social scene, to sit at the table in the window. She motioned him to a chair and they both sat down.

Rose said quickly and abruptly, 'What do you want? Is it about Jean?'

Crimond had undone his jacket and put his forearms on the table, stretching out his long hands which were covered with fine red hairs. His nails were carefully cut but imperfectly clean and the cuffs of his shirt were unbuttoned. He considered Rose’s words and said, as if replying to some theoretical or academic question, 'The answer is no.'

`What is it then?'

Crimond made his thin mouth even thinner, looking first at the table and then at Rose. That will take a little time to explain.'

`I haven't got much time,' said Rose. This was not true. As Crimond continued to be silent, frowning, his pale blue eyes gleaming at her, she said, `I think I must tell you that Jean hay returned to her husband.'

Crimond nodded, then looked away and took a long controlled breath, not quite emerging as a sigh.

Does he want me to sympathise with him! thought Rose. Slit, said, 'Is it about Gerard?'

`Is what about Gerard?'

`Your visit! You wrote saying you wanted to discuss an important matter! I'm waiting to hear what it is!'

`No, it's not about Gerard.' He added, looking at her again and smiling faintly, 'Don't be impatient with me!'

I must be polite, thought Rose, it may be a 'thank you' visit after all. She said in a more conciliatory tone, 'So the book is finished.'

`Yes. I'm sorry I didn't say earlier that it was nearly finished. I didn't intend to mislead you all. It was just psychologically difficult to say so. Perhaps I was superstitious, yes, I was superstitious, about the book. I thought I might never live to finish it.'

`It has certainly taken a long time, you must feel quite lost without it.' Rose and Gerard had of course discussed how, and whether, the break with Jean connected with the completion of the book, but had reached no conclusion. Perhaps the ending of his long task had disturbed Crimond's reason. His appearance and his manner struck Rose as extremely odd, and she wondered again if he were actually mad.

`Yes, it's like death.' He spoke solemnly, gazing at her intently. 'It is – a bereavement.'

Rose looked away, looked at her watch. 'Perhaps you will take a holiday now?'

`I'm afraid I am incapable of taking a holiday.' There was a slight pause, during which Rose tried to think of some suitable commonplace. He went on, 'I like your dress, it's the same green as you wore at the dance.'

Rose, annoyed by his remark, said, 'I didn't see you at the dance.’

‘I saw you.'

That sounds like ill luck, she thought, if the wolf sees you first! Perhaps he really does want to talk about Jean? I certainly don't propose to sit here making polite conversation! ’You said you wanted to talk about something particular. Perhaps you could now say what it is?'

Crimond, who had been staring at her, looked away and again drew a long deep controlled breath. He looked about the room and seemed for a moment at a loss. 'It's something personal.'

'About you -'

'About me. Also about you.'