establish an intimacy which would open to him this gentle feminine comfort so different from his own bleak and underfurnished rooms below. Sometimes, if she telephoned with an invitation to dinner, he would invent a prior engagement and take himself out to a local pub, filling the long hours in the smoke and clatter, anxious not to return too early since his front door in Innocent Lane lay directly under her kitchen windows.
This evening he felt that she might welcome his company but was unwilling to ask for it. He wasn't sorry. The cremation had been depressing enough without having to discuss its banalities; he had had enough of death for one day. When the taxi drew up in Innocent Walk and she said an almost hurried goodbye and unlocked her front door without once looking back, he felt a sense of relief. But two hours later, after he had finished his soup and the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon which was his favourite evening meal and which he prepared, as always, with care, keeping the gas low, drawing the mixture lovingly from the sides of the pan, adding a final spoonful of cream, he pictured her eating her solitary supper and regretted his--selfishness. This wasn't a good night for her to be alone. He
telephoned and said: 'I'm wondering, Frances, whether you would care for a game of chess.'
39
He could tell from the joyous rise in her voice that the suggestion had come as a relief. 'Yes, I would, Gabriel. Do please come up. Yes, I'd love a game.'
Her dining table was still set when he arrived. She always ate with some formality even when alone, but he could see that the meal had been as simple as his own. The cheese board and the fruit bowl were on the table and she had obviously had soup but nothing else. He could see, too, that she had been crying.
She said, smiling, trying to make her voice cheerful: 'I'm so glad you've come up. It gives me an excuse to open a bottle of wine. It's odd how much one dislikes drinking alone. I suppose it's all those early warnings about solitary drinking being the beginning of the slide into alcoholism.'
She fetched a bottle of Chteau Margaux and he came forward to open it. They didn't speak again until they were settled, glasses in hand, before the fire, when, looking into the flames, she said: 'He
should have been there. Gerard should have been there.'
'He doesn't like funerals.'
'Oh Gabriel who does? And it was awful, wasn't it? Daddy's cremation was bad enough but this was worse. That pathetic clergy-man who did his best but who didn't know her and didn't know any of us, trying to sound sincere, praying to the God she didn't believe in, talking about eternal life when she didn't even have a life worth living here on earth.'
He said gently: 'We can't know that. We can't be the judge of another's happiness or unhappiness.'
'She wanted to die. Isn't that evidence enough? At least Gerard came to Daddy's .funeral. He more or less had to, though, didn't he? The crown prince saying farewell to the old king. It wouldn't have looked good if he'd stayed away. After all, there were important people there, writers, publishers, the press, people he wanted to impress. There was no one important at today's cremation, so he didn't have to bother. But he ought to have come. After all, he killed her.'
Dauntsey said more firmly: 'Frances, you mustn't say that. There's absolutely no evidence that anything Gerard did or said caused Sonia's death. You know what she wrote in the suicide note. If she had planned to kill herself because Gerard had sacked her I think she would have said so. The note was explicit. You must never say that
4o
outside this room. This kind of rumour can be deeply damaging. Promise me - it is important.' 'All right, I promise. I haven't said it to anyone except you, but I'm not the only one at Innocent House who's thinking it, and some are saying it. Kneeling there in that awful chapel I was trying to pray, for Daddy, for her, for all of us. But it was all so
This evening he felt that she might welcome his company but was unwilling to ask for it. He wasn't sorry. The cremation had been depressing enough without having to discuss its banalities; he had had enough of death for one day. When the taxi drew up in Innocent Walk and she said an almost hurried goodbye and unlocked her front door without once looking back, he felt a sense of relief. But two hours later, after he had finished his soup and the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon which was his favourite evening meal and which he prepared, as always, with care, keeping the gas low, drawing the mixture lovingly from the sides of the pan, adding a final spoonful of cream, he pictured her eating her solitary supper and regretted his--selfishness. This wasn't a good night for her to be alone. He
telephoned and said: 'I'm wondering, Frances, whether you would care for a game of chess.'
39
He could tell from the joyous rise in her voice that the suggestion had come as a relief. 'Yes, I would, Gabriel. Do please come up. Yes, I'd love a game.'
Her dining table was still set when he arrived. She always ate with some formality even when alone, but he could see that the meal had been as simple as his own. The cheese board and the fruit bowl were on the table and she had obviously had soup but nothing else. He could see, too, that she had been crying.
She said, smiling, trying to make her voice cheerful: 'I'm so glad you've come up. It gives me an excuse to open a bottle of wine. It's odd how much one dislikes drinking alone. I suppose it's all those early warnings about solitary drinking being the beginning of the slide into alcoholism.'
She fetched a bottle of Chteau Margaux and he came forward to open it. They didn't speak again until they were settled, glasses in hand, before the fire, when, looking into the flames, she said: 'He
should have been there. Gerard should have been there.'
'He doesn't like funerals.'
'Oh Gabriel who does? And it was awful, wasn't it? Daddy's cremation was bad enough but this was worse. That pathetic clergy-man who did his best but who didn't know her and didn't know any of us, trying to sound sincere, praying to the God she didn't believe in, talking about eternal life when she didn't even have a life worth living here on earth.'
He said gently: 'We can't know that. We can't be the judge of another's happiness or unhappiness.'
'She wanted to die. Isn't that evidence enough? At least Gerard came to Daddy's .funeral. He more or less had to, though, didn't he? The crown prince saying farewell to the old king. It wouldn't have looked good if he'd stayed away. After all, there were important people there, writers, publishers, the press, people he wanted to impress. There was no one important at today's cremation, so he didn't have to bother. But he ought to have come. After all, he killed her.'
Dauntsey said more firmly: 'Frances, you mustn't say that. There's absolutely no evidence that anything Gerard did or said caused Sonia's death. You know what she wrote in the suicide note. If she had planned to kill herself because Gerard had sacked her I think she would have said so. The note was explicit. You must never say that
4o
outside this room. This kind of rumour can be deeply damaging. Promise me - it is important.' 'All right, I promise. I haven't said it to anyone except you, but I'm not the only one at Innocent House who's thinking it, and some are saying it. Kneeling there in that awful chapel I was trying to pray, for Daddy, for her, for all of us. But it was all so
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