Part 19 (2/2)
”Could I forget him?” Alarm and dislike crossed Sylvia's face: it was an old colleague, whose dipsomaniac company she had never relished. ”What about him? I thought you never saw him since he went to County Hall.”
”Only occasionally. I mean, the Educational Advisors don't come by that often. They might be contaminated by contact with the kids.”
”And?”
”He's had an accident. He was over at the Forty Martyrs Comprehensive last week, and he'd been drinking whisky in the office-you know what the Brothers are like, very hospitable. Anyway, they couldn't find him. Thought he'd gone-then Brother Ambrose turned him up in the gym. He'd been on the equipment, you know, swinging from the trapeze and putting his feet through those rings that come down from the ceiling. Broken both legs.”
”Oh, I shouldn't.” Sylvia covered her mouth with her hand. ”Oh, it's awful, laughing at people's misfortunes.”
”Anyway, that's the last straw. He's had warnings. Early retirement. The point is, if you were willing to move, I could have his job.”
”Are you sure?”
”It's unofficial. It'll have to be advertised, but I think I can swing it. Everybody says so. They'll want to appoint soon, for September.”
”Do I want to move? Oh Colin, I can't tell you how I want to move.”
”Two hours ago you wanted to adopt a baby.”
”I want to move.”
”We could look for a house.”
”But September? That's months away. I can't see myself in September. I can't imagine it. Gemma will be seven months old. It'll be a different world. I can't imagine lasting out till then. Something awful will happen.”
”Such as?”
”You'll change your mind about that woman. You'll be ringing her up. I expect you're planning right now to ring her up. You're only telling me all this to throw me off the scent.”
He squeezed her wrist. ”That hurts,” she said.
”Get the book. The telephone book.”
”What?”
”Look up some estate agents and ring them up first thing tomorrow morning. Let's do it, Sylvia, quick. Ask them for details of a nice house-three bed, Claire and Karen can share-modern, big windows, plenty light, nothing with a past; a nice jerry-built house like the one we used to have, with all the flaws built in.”
”The houses are all right, Colin. It's us the flaws are built into.”
”Not any more. I'm being positive, I'm laying plans.” He paused, momentarily amazed. It's easy once you start. The momentum carries you forward. ”As soon as we find the house, we must move. I'll have to stay at school till the end of the summer term, but I can commute. I can come on the new link road. It'll only take me thirty minutes. If that.”
”Do you really think we could? Just get away? Why didn't you say so before?”
”I was waiting for Frank to break his legs. A deus ex machina,” he said. ”Every home should have one.”
”So that's it then?” She spoke with finality and with hope, and a look of exhaustion crossed her face, from the strain of keeping up such complex and contradictory emotions. Colin looked up at the ceiling of the hall, still stained dark from the kitchen fire.
”Do you think we'll sell this sc.r.a.p heap?”
”I don't see why not. After all, it's not structurally defective, is it, except for that growth in Alistair's room? We'll have to sc.r.a.pe the walls and paint it with something. And in the hall, what you've got to do is keep the light off when people come. You wouldn't notice. You'd just think it was a nice beige shade. You wouldn't notice till you came to wash the walls down. Then it'd go all streaky.”
”That's unscrupulous.”
”They get what they see. What they don't see, that's their problem.”
”That's settled then. Get somebody round to give us a valuation.” He took her hand. ”And what about Francis? What will he say?”
She looked down at her knees. ”I don't know, what will he say?”
”I thought you had something going.”
”Not really.”
”I thought at one time he was going to leave Hermione.”
”Leave Hermione?” she said scornfully. ”She's a bishop's daughter. Anyway, do you know, I saw another side of him. When we were down at the night shelter-I didn't tell you, did I? These two poor old men came in, wanting soup. Well, I didn't recognise them, they were wearing balaclavas. They were having leek and potato. When Francis saw them he ran up and said, 'These are the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who've been causing me all the trouble.' He said he'd caught them laying a fire in the vestry. He kicked one of them quite hard-you know what big boots he wears. I was ashamed, I said, they were probably feeling the cold, you know what February is. He said, 'You don't set fire to ca.s.socks, do you?' He said it was arson. He phoned the police.”
”What happened to them?”
”They were taken into custody. They've been sent to a home.”
”They'll probably be better off.”
”Oh, no, Colin. They'll get inst.i.tutionalised.”
”Still, I can see why you were disillusioned. Does he know you've gone off him?”
”Probably.” Sylvia dipped her head. A tear ran down her cheek, slow and singular, and quivered at the corner of her mouth. ”He doesn't care. He's got other involvements.”
”Oh yes?”
”There's this deaconess. Julie.”
”The man's a philanderer! Well, never mind,” Colin said cheerfully. ”Never mind, you've done some good to the community between you, which I may say is more than Isabel Ryan and I ever did. We were great theorists, but I don't think we left anybody better off. How's the ca.n.a.l clean-up going?”
”Oh, it's going to be lovely.” She sniffed, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. ”We're going to have a nature trail. Anyway, I'll tell you another thing about Francis. He has this fat crease in his ear.”
”What?”
”It means he's going to have a coronary. Men with paunches and creases in their ears, they're At Risk. I read it somewhere.”
”The Beano?”
”No, it's true.”
”Have I got one?”
<script>