‘Place,’ Jones said, ‘place.’
‘You’re laughing at me,’ Thomas said, aggressively, ‘You laugh.’
‘I never laugh.’
Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
‘I know you’re in love with Miss Vaughan,’ Jones said.
‘I would like to speak to her.’
‘Speak.’
‘I am very sad, Jones.’
‘I know, Mr Thomas. Once, Mrs Gandell and me were both very sad one night, bad news that day it was, very bad, just after supper time it was, and we both climbed the stairs like divers out of the sea. When we go up the doors are always locked and the curtains drawn, nothing like being careful, Mr Thomas. Yes, and then we get very close, and Mrs Gandell’s bed’s safe, and I’m safe. I said to her, very very close we were then, I said, “If that Mr Thomas that haunts this place knew how sad we were, Mrs Gandell, I wonder if he’d pray for us.” And then we both did. Yes. Wished you to pray for her and me, and the hotel, and for people to come, and the rain to stop weeping, and somebody to get the sun up.’
‘Sometimes, Jones, I’m afraid of being strong,’ Thomas said.
‘The masthead sometimes totters,’ replied Jones.
‘I’ll have to go, Mr Thomas,’ and Jones got up.
‘Don’t go.’
And Jones sat down again. ‘A bent man,’ he thought. ‘Yes, a bent man.’ ‘I expect you got the news, Mr Thomas,’ he said.
‘News?’
‘News,’ said Jones.
What news?’
‘She’s in love with a Colonel, Mr Thomas. I thought you knew that.’
‘Is it true?’
‘Some birds carry the seed in their mouths and never know just where to drop it,’ Jones said. ‘Lunching with him tomorrow, always does. Once a week.’
‘I don’t believe it. My sister said yesterday that .…’
‘You don’t have to believe anything, Mr Thomas, even that facts are facts.’
‘Have you seen him?’
‘The Colonel? Why should I? Besides he lives somewhere miles and miles along the beach. Once, one of the girls from her office followed her, but Miss Vaughan just went on and on and on, and the poor girl got tired, and she went back to her office, and told her friend Mair about it, and Mair laughed and said, “Poor dear, perhaps she’s walked into the sea”.’
Thomas did a quite astonishing thing, and it upset Jones. He came forward and knelt at his chair.
‘Is that true?’
‘That’s what I heard.’
Jones never expected it, but it came, and it shocked him.
‘Good God,’ Thomas said, ‘Good God,’ and clapped hands to his face.
‘I’d better go,’ Jones said.
‘Don’t go. Not yet, Jones. Don’t go.’
What hallucinatory thread is now winding and winding around his head? He closed his eyes, he could not look at this man kneeling. ‘You’re not well, Mr Thomas,’ he said, and he helped the Minister back to his chair. ‘Have you anything in the house?’
‘There.’
Jones went to the sideboard, fixed him a nip of brandy. ‘Here. I know you’re sad. I’m sorry.’
He watched brandy drops trickle down the Thomas chin. It made him think of his sister at once, her face paling at the sight of it, poor Miss Thomas perhaps reeling from the smell.
‘Are you all right, Mr Thomas?’
He could no longer think of him as God’s man, the chariot in his head crashing, such a clever man, such a good man. ‘Are you all right, Mr Thomas?’ and felt his hand clutched, and the heaviness of it, and a kind of horror in the moment. ‘He’s going mad,’ he thought, ‘roots up, the house reeling, very soon he’ll blubber, blubber.’
‘Sorry,’ Jones said, ‘Sorry.’
‘It is true?’
‘Jones?’
