‘What about you?’ Gerald looked at Mrs Pascoe, earnestly hoping she would decline.
‘No, thanks.’ She was glancing at the Commandant. Clearly she had not expected him to be there.
Phrynne being asleep, Gerald sat down too. He sipped his brandy. It was impossible to romanticize the action with a toast.
The events in the Bar had made him forget about the bells. Now, as they sat silently round the sleeping Phrynne, the tide of sound swept over him once more.
‘You mustn’t think,’ said Mrs Pascoe, ‘that he’s always like that.’ They all spoke in hushed voices. All of them seemed to have reason to do so. The Commandant was again gazing sombrely at Phrynne’s beauty.
‘Of course not.’ But it was hard to believe.
‘The licensed business puts temptations in a man’s way.’
‘It must be very difficult.’
‘We ought never to have come here. We were happy in South Norwood.’
‘You must do good business during the season.’
‘Two months,’ said Mrs Pascoe bitterly, but still softly. ‘Two and a half at the very most. The people who come during the season have no idea what goes on out of it.’
‘What made you leave South Norwood?’
‘Don’s stomach. The doctor said the sea air would do him good.’
‘Speaking of that, doesn’t the sea go too far out? We went down on the beach before dinner, but couldn’t see it anywhere.’
On the other side of the fire, the Commandant turned his eyes from Phrynne and looked at Gerald.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Mrs Pascoe. ‘I never have time to look from one year’s end to the other.’ It was a customary enough answer, but Gerald felt that it did not disclose the whole truth. He noticed that Mrs Pascoe glanced uneasily at the Commandant, who by now was staring neither at Phrynne nor at Gerald but at the toppling citadels in the fire.
‘And now I must get on with my work,’ continued Mrs Pascoe, ‘I only came in for a minute.’ She looked Gerald in the face. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and rose.
‘Please stay a little longer,’ said Gerald. ‘Wait till my wife wakes up.’ As he spoke, Phrynne slightly shifted.
‘Can’t be done,’ said Mrs Pascoe, her lips smiling. Gerald noticed that all the time she was watching the Commandant from under her lids, and knew that were he not there, she would have stayed.
As it was, she went. ‘I’ll probably see you later to say good night. Sorry the water’s not very hot. It’s having no porter.’
The bells showed no sign of flagging.
When Mrs Pascoe had closed the door, the Commandant spoke.
‘He was a fine man once. Don’t think otherwise.’
‘You mean Pascoe?’
The Commandant nodded seriously.
‘Not my type,’ said Gerald.
‘DSO and bar. DFC and bar.’
‘And now bar only. Why?’
‘You heard what she said. It was a lie. They didn’t leave South Norwood for the sea air.’
‘So I supposed.’