‘Thank you.’
‘There’s no need to go on thanking me all the time.’
‘I do what I wish to do.’
She avoided his glance, and stared windowards, and he knew she was still thinking of that too long month.
‘Thinking of winter again?’
‘I always think of it.’
He gripped the table, leaned across, and said, ‘You’re always thinking of it, Mrs Gandell. Got it on the brain.’
It upset him when she roared with laughter.
He leaned closer still. ‘What do you know about winter? You know nothing, I mean nothing. There are winters in Wales that are longer than the Stations of the Cross. When I was a child I practically ate winter, in my bed, and in my school, and in my chapel, and in my head, and on any bloody road I happened to be.’
There was a momentary silence, and then she said very quietly, ‘Jones, one of these days you will be outgrown by your own tensity.’
He growled at her. ‘Ah .…’
‘I was …’
‘Well?’ he snapped.
She dismissed him with a wave of the hand. ‘Another time,’ she said.
‘Never strangle your thoughts, Mrs Gandell. Say it.’
He stood up, leaned over her, and said quietly, ‘What is the matter?’
‘The hotel is not paying.’
‘It will.’
‘I rather doubt that, Jones.’
‘I said it will.’
The optimism made her smile, and Jones didn’t like it very much.
‘All the same,’ she began … when he cut in again.
‘Your – I mean, you won’t leave here, Mrs Gandell?’
‘I have been thinking about it, Jones.’
He slumped in the chair. ‘You can’t leave me? Leave here?’ and he got up and rushed to the hall, where he stood staring at the wall. She followed him.
‘You’re not upset, are you, Jones?’
She put a hand on his shoulder, but he remained motionless. ‘Jones.’
He swung round. ‘You can’t. You can’t leave me, here.’
She turned him slowly round, smiled. ‘What a strange little monkey it is that lives so near to me, and has been so good to me all this time. Come along, Jones. Head up,’ and she put a hand under his chin. ‘You have always been loyal, Jones, always.’
He hated her when she patted his head, but she patted it now. ‘There, there!’
He gripped her arms, stuttered, ‘You won’t go, Mrs Gandell?’
‘I - - -’
His grip tightened. ‘I said you won’t go, leave me. Here.’
‘I was only thinking about it, Jones. No more than that,’ and she turned her back on him and went back to her table. Jones did not move. She lit another cigarette. ‘Come here, Jones.’
He came, stood intently watching her, then sat down.
‘More coffee,’ she said, jug in air.
‘No.’
‘Manners, Jones,’ she shouted in his face, ‘I said manners’
‘Ah ….’
She flung him yet another cigarette. ‘There’s work to be done.’
