forgotten all about this cold unpleasant walk by then. In fact you'll forget all about it the moment you go in through the door and you feel the nice warm heating. So don't get discouraged. It's only a little way to go now.'
She had had Boris in a hug while saying this, but now she suddenly released him, turned and began to walk again. The abruptness with which she did so caught me by surprise - for I had myself become steadily lulled by her words and had for a moment closed my eyes. Boris too looked bewildered, and by the time I had taken his hand his mother was once more several paces in front.
I was keen not to let her get too far ahead again, but just at that moment I became conscious of footsteps coming down behind us and I could not help lingering a second to look back up the alley. Just as I did so, the person entered the pool of light cast by the lower lamp and I saw that it was someone I knew. His name was Geoffrey Saunders and he had been in my year at school in England. I had not seen him since schooldays, so was naturally struck by how much he had aged. Even allowing for the unflattering effects of the lamplight and the cold drizzle, he looked overwhelmingly down-at-heel. He was wearing a raincoat that seemed to have lost its ability to fasten and which he was now clutching together at the front as he walked. I was not at all sure I wished to acknowledge him, but then, as Boris and I set off once more, Geoffrey Saunders fell in step alongside us.
'Hello, old chap,' he said. 'Thought it was you. Rotten evening it's turned out to be.'
'Yes, miserable,' I said. 'And earlier it was so pleasant.'
The alley had brought us out onto a dark deserted road. There was a strong breeze and the city seemed far away.
'Your boy?' Geoffrey Saunders asked, nodding towards Boris. Then, before I could reply, he continued: 'Nice boy. Well done. Looks very bright. Myself I never married. Always thought I would, but time's just slipped away and now I suppose I never shall. To be honest, I suppose there's more to it than that. But I don't want to bore you with all the rotten luck I've had over the years. I've had some good things happen too. Still. Well done. Nice boy.'
Geoffrey Saunders leaned forward and gave Boris a salute. Boris, either too upset or too preoccupied, gave no response.
The road was now leading us downhill. As we walked through the darkness, I recalled how at school Geoffrey Saunders had been the golden boy of our year, always distinguishing himself both academically and on the sports field. His was the example forever being used to rebuke the rest of us for lack of effort, and it was widely reckoned that he would in time become school captain. He never did so, I recalled, owing to some crisis that had obliged him to leave the school suddenly during our fifth year.
'I read in the papers you were coming,' he was saying to me. 'I've been expecting to hear from you. You know, to tell me when you'll be popping round. I went and bought some cakes from the bakery so that I had something to offer you along with a cup of tea. After all, my digs may be rather dreary, what with my being single and all, but I still expect people to come and visit sometimes and I feel quite capable of looking after them well. So when I heard you were coming, I immediately popped out and bought a selection of tea cakes. That was the day before yesterday. Yesterday, I thought they were still presentable, though the icing had got a bit on the tough side. But today, when you still hadn't called, I threw them away. Pride, I suppose. I mean, you've been so successful, and I don't want you going away thinking I'm leading this miserable existence in small rented rooms with only stale cakes to offer a visitor. So I went to the bakery and got some fresh cakes. And I tidied my room up a bit. But you didn't call.
Well, I suppose I can't blame you. I say' - he leaned forward again and looked at Boris - 'are you all right there? You sound completely
She had had Boris in a hug while saying this, but now she suddenly released him, turned and began to walk again. The abruptness with which she did so caught me by surprise - for I had myself become steadily lulled by her words and had for a moment closed my eyes. Boris too looked bewildered, and by the time I had taken his hand his mother was once more several paces in front.
I was keen not to let her get too far ahead again, but just at that moment I became conscious of footsteps coming down behind us and I could not help lingering a second to look back up the alley. Just as I did so, the person entered the pool of light cast by the lower lamp and I saw that it was someone I knew. His name was Geoffrey Saunders and he had been in my year at school in England. I had not seen him since schooldays, so was naturally struck by how much he had aged. Even allowing for the unflattering effects of the lamplight and the cold drizzle, he looked overwhelmingly down-at-heel. He was wearing a raincoat that seemed to have lost its ability to fasten and which he was now clutching together at the front as he walked. I was not at all sure I wished to acknowledge him, but then, as Boris and I set off once more, Geoffrey Saunders fell in step alongside us.
'Hello, old chap,' he said. 'Thought it was you. Rotten evening it's turned out to be.'
'Yes, miserable,' I said. 'And earlier it was so pleasant.'
The alley had brought us out onto a dark deserted road. There was a strong breeze and the city seemed far away.
'Your boy?' Geoffrey Saunders asked, nodding towards Boris. Then, before I could reply, he continued: 'Nice boy. Well done. Looks very bright. Myself I never married. Always thought I would, but time's just slipped away and now I suppose I never shall. To be honest, I suppose there's more to it than that. But I don't want to bore you with all the rotten luck I've had over the years. I've had some good things happen too. Still. Well done. Nice boy.'
Geoffrey Saunders leaned forward and gave Boris a salute. Boris, either too upset or too preoccupied, gave no response.
The road was now leading us downhill. As we walked through the darkness, I recalled how at school Geoffrey Saunders had been the golden boy of our year, always distinguishing himself both academically and on the sports field. His was the example forever being used to rebuke the rest of us for lack of effort, and it was widely reckoned that he would in time become school captain. He never did so, I recalled, owing to some crisis that had obliged him to leave the school suddenly during our fifth year.
'I read in the papers you were coming,' he was saying to me. 'I've been expecting to hear from you. You know, to tell me when you'll be popping round. I went and bought some cakes from the bakery so that I had something to offer you along with a cup of tea. After all, my digs may be rather dreary, what with my being single and all, but I still expect people to come and visit sometimes and I feel quite capable of looking after them well. So when I heard you were coming, I immediately popped out and bought a selection of tea cakes. That was the day before yesterday. Yesterday, I thought they were still presentable, though the icing had got a bit on the tough side. But today, when you still hadn't called, I threw them away. Pride, I suppose. I mean, you've been so successful, and I don't want you going away thinking I'm leading this miserable existence in small rented rooms with only stale cakes to offer a visitor. So I went to the bakery and got some fresh cakes. And I tidied my room up a bit. But you didn't call.
Well, I suppose I can't blame you. I say' - he leaned forward again and looked at Boris - 'are you all right there? You sound completely
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