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hates himself,’ said Brian, ‘let him act accordingly.’
    â€˜Do you want your brother to commit suicide?’
    â€˜No, I just mean swallow his own bile, not involve other people.’
    â€˜I think — ’ said Gabriel.
    â€˜Get himself some electric shocks.’
    â€˜Don’t drivel, ’ said Alex.
    Gabriel said, ‘Oh no. ’
    â€˜All right then, what about our great psychiatrist, Ivor Sefton?’
    â€˜Sefton is a booby,’ said Alex. ‘He never cured anyone, they come out dafter than they go in. And he charges the earth.’
    â€˜He can have it free on the National Health.’
    â€˜Only in a group, imagine George in a group!’
    â€˜No one would join his group anyway,’ said Brian. ‘At least George has got a good pension, I can’t think why. His pension is about the same as my salary!’
    â€˜George isn’t mad.’
    â€˜I didn’t say he was.’
    â€˜Leave him alone. You know we’ve got to leave him alone.’
    â€˜I wonder if Professor Rozanov could help him,’ said Gabriel.
    â€˜Who?’ said Alex.
    â€˜John Robert Rozanov,’ said Brian. ‘Why should he? Anyway he’s old and pretty gaga by now.’
    â€˜I wonder what happened to the little girl,’ said Gabriel.
    â€˜What little girl?’
    â€˜Wasn’t there a little grandchild, the one Ruby’s cousin or something was looking after once?’
    â€˜I’ve no notion,’ said Brian. ‘I don’t think Rozanov ever saw the child at all, he wasn’t interested; he only cared about his philosophy.’
    â€˜And that’s the man you imagine could help George!’
    â€˜Well, wasn’t he his old teacher?’ said Gabriel.
    â€˜I can’t see George bothering with him,’ said Brian.
    â€˜Leave George alone,’ Alex repeated.
    In the silence that followed Gabriel drifted over to the bow window, past chairs and sofas piled with cushions embroidered by Alex. This move was a part of the symphony, the sign that Brian and his mother could now take looks at each other and bring the conversation to a suitable close.
    Gabriel saw the reflection of her cigarette grow brighter in the glass pane. Then she could see the familiar burly outline of the trees against a dull darkening sky. The self-contained stillness of that garden always troubled her with emotions - awe, envy, fear. She sighed, thinking of that future of which Alex could say nothing. She looked down. A little white thing sped across the lawn like a ball swiftly bowled, then a boy. They vanished under the dark trees. Such a frail little dog, the very image of her destructible son. Adam was not growing, he was already exceptionally small for his age. She had asked the doctor who told her not to worry.
    When Adam arrived in the Belmont garden he went straight to the garage. The garage, which used to be known as the ‘motor house’, was a building with a little French-looking turret which was exactly like the big turret on the big house. There was a row of last year’s martins’ nests under the eaves, but this year’s martins had not yet come. Inside the garage was the white Rolls-Royce which Alan McCaffrey had driven carefully in on some long ago evening, perhaps, as he pressed down the brake, not even knowing that he was about to leave his wife forever. He never came back for the car; and Alex had not touched it since. It was said to be very valuable. Adam climbed into the Rolls and sat holding the wheel and turning it cannily to and fro, while Zed (who always had to be helped up however earnestly he tried) sat complacently upon the soft old smelly leather seat beside him, looking in his white feathery fur like a plump roosting bird. Zed had one or two elegant black spots on his back, and long dark plumed black and brown ears which crowned his head like a wig or hat. He had a little domed head and a short slightly