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mad.”
    â€œNo, no,” said Huw. He wiped his eyes. “I am tricking him!”
    â€œThen I’m mad,” said Roger. “Mad for listening to you.”
    â€œNo, no,” said Huw. “You see – them greyhounds, and the horses, and the trappings and all – I was making them out of toadstools!”

C HAPTER 10
    T owards the end of dinner Gwyn stacked the plates in the hatch and then went to light the fire in the sitting-room. He fiddled with paper and twigs and fed them strips of birch bark. Then he rearranged the logs in the basket by the hearth. Then he lit the lamps. He propped more wood against the fire back, trying not to send smoke into the room.
    Roger and his father came through from the dining-room and settled themselves in easy chairs. Gwyn put the hanging lamp on the chimney. He had to work it gently into place inside its shade so that the asbestos mantle would not break. He kept the wick low to warm the glass. Then he rearranged the logs in the basket and brushed the hearth. He turned the lamps up slowly in case they flared.
    Then he put more wood on the fire and rearranged the logs.
    â€œI think we’re suited now,” said Clive. “Thanks a lot.”
    â€œI’ll make sure the lamps are right, Mr Bradley,” said Gwyn.
    â€œThey look fine to me,” said Clive.
    â€œAnd I’d better bring you some logs.”
    â€œWe’ll manage,” said Clive. “I’d toddle along now, if I were you.”
    â€œOh – Yes—”
    â€œGood night, Gwyn.”
    â€œâ€”Good night, Mr Bradley.”
    â€œOne small point, old son.”
    â€œYes, Mr Bradley?”
    â€œIf you’ve anything you want to tell my daughter, let’s all hear it, shall we? Let’s have the brussels sprouts served straight, without notes inside them, eh?”
    Gwyn stood in the dark at the foot of the stairs between the dining-room and the sitting-room. He dragged his fist against the wall, trying to hurt himself.
    â€œHad any luck with the snaps?” he heard Clive say through the open door.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Roger. “I’ll see tomorrow when I develop them. If they come out it’ll be no thanks to that Halfbacon moron. He was trying to louse it up all the time. Honest, Dad, you’ll have to do something about him. What I was telling you—”
    â€œYes, I know,” said Clive. “But he’s harmless.”
    â€œIs he, though?” said Roger. “He’s as strong as an ox. And he’s a real nutter.”
    â€œYes, but he’s been here all his life: he knows the ropes. And where would we find anyone for the job? The place would go to pot.”
    â€œI’d not lose sleep over that,” said Roger.
    â€œAnd there’s Margaret, too,” said Clive. “She wouldn’t have much of a holiday if we had to go scrounging for a new man.”
    â€œOf course,” said Roger. “I was forgetting Margaret.”
    Gwyn stepped back into the shadow as someone came down the stairs. It was Alison. She carried a small lamp, and when she reached the bottom of the stairs Gwyn moved forward so that she could see him. He waved towards the dining-room. Alison hesitated. She looked at the open sitting-room door. Clive and Roger were still talking. She looked at Gwyn, and again at the doorway, and then Gwyn watched her pass by him, within a yard of him, into the sitting-room, and watched her close the door.
    â€œHello, old stick,” said Clive. He rose when Alison came in. “Now where is it? Aha. Here’s a little nonsense I picked up in town today. Thought it might amuse the lady. And I managed to get you your tracing paper, by the way.”
    â€œOh Clive, how sweet,” said Alison. She took the box. “You are a darling.”
    Gwyn ran through the dining-room and the lamp-room to the kitchen, and stopped when he came up against the sink. He stood still.