‘Good evening, Minister. It is very late. I hope your sister is not too well. And what is the answer?’
Thomas felt awkward, felt humiliated, was disgusted at the smile, too close, and Jones hiccuped in his face as soon as he reached the bottom stair.
‘Not too close, Mr Jones. The world knows that you have just left The Lion.’
‘Ah,’ Jones said, ‘I see. No collar, Mr Thomas. You could be anybody without it, and even less than that. I expect you left it hanging in the best bedroom at Ty Newdd. Well. Well.’ Jones rocked on his heels, swayed a little. ‘A splendid sight,’ he said. ‘You seem to have forgotten a former message, Minister, and Mrs Gandell will be displeased,’ and he leaned closer still to Thomas. Thomas pushed him rudely away. ‘You smell, Jones,’ he said. Jones pinned him against the wall. ‘There’s no hurry,’ he said.
‘Get out of my way.’
‘I only wish I could, Mr Thomas.’
Thomas gripped him, pushed harder. ‘Get-out of .…’
Jones grinned. ‘Was she flat on her back, Minister. Staring upwards. Yes, you do look ordinary now. Embrace the fact.’
‘I said get out of my way.’
‘Was her bed full of grace and angels, Minister? Did she cry out in her dream?’
Thomas had forced him back, so that Jones found himself pinned to the wall.
‘I am stronger than the man with the chariot in his head,’ he said, and laughed, and then was free, so that instantly Thomas was aware of the hand at his shoulder, and a hand under his chin.
‘Ah,’ Jones said, slobbered a little, if only you could have opened that little door in her head. I know. Mrs Gandell knows. She doesn’t even read your mad letters. But if only that little door had opened. What a strange and precarious joy might have popped out.’ He felt Jones’s breath in his face, and pushed harder still, but Jones held him tight, and still smiled in his face.
‘I can’t get out of your way, Mr Thomas,’ he said. ‘I can’t. God! You are a damned fool, that is, for a clever man. Miss Vaughan loves Miss Vaughan. I love me. What’s wrong with it?’
Jones pressed, and Thomas pressed, but there was no movement. He saw the Jones teeth, heard the words coming through.
‘She laughs. I laugh. Mrs Gandell laughs. We all laugh,’ and after a slight pause, ‘Garthmeilo laughs.’
‘Liar.’
Jones banged the Thomas head against the wall.
‘Here! Who are you calling a liar?’
‘When common little men get drunk,’ Thomas was saying, and then he felt Jones’s hand pressing hard on his mouth.
‘Ever notice how she holds her head in the air, Minister. Do-you-know-what? Sometimes she sings to herself in bed. Heard her. Hear everything in this house,’ he said, and followed it up with a low titter. He put his mouth to the Thomas ear, saying, ‘Mrs Gandell said it wasn’t my night off, but I knew that it was. So I took it. Plastered her with gin first. Cheers her up. She’s probably as flat as a dead trout now,’ and Jones laughed again.
‘I don’t want to knock you down, Jones,’ Thomas said.
It made Jones grin all over again.
‘Some of Miss Vaughan’s friends live on the stairs, Minister. Just think of that.’
Thomas heaved again. ‘Damn you,’ he said.
‘Ah, naughty man of God,’ said Jones, and whispered, and was close again. ‘Have you ever heard her saying her prayers, man of God? I have. But only the once. And after that I expect she justs waits.’
He felt his shoulders gripped, he felt himself being pushed slowly backwards. ‘You’ve a snake’s tongue,’ Thomas said, still pushing.
‘No you don’t,’ and the strength of Jones surprised the now imprisoned man. ‘Tell you something,’ he said, ‘before you go, before I push. I once went into her room, though I left my shadow outside, yours would drown the wall, Minister, but she wasn’t there. No indeed. Once saw her reading a book, once saw her actually smiling. I think she has a special knowledge of other dimensions. Hee hee.’
Thomas got a hand free, and quite astonished Jones by striking him across the mouth.
‘You’re a twisted creature, Jones.’
‘And I’ve a very common mind, man of God. Remember. You told me that the other day. Course you remember. It was in wind-blown Jubilee Street. I didn’t mind. Never did mind many things. In a minute you can go, Mr Thomas, back to your study and your leather chair, and those lonely spiders, and the big books, and the little ones. Ah! There are some people that are so good that you never have to find out about it.’ Jones gave a sudden belch, then continued, ‘My bloody head’s just beginning to clear, Mr Thomas. If only a real bishop could see you now,’ and Jones laughed, and went on laughing. He dropped his voice, he went on, wet lips, wet words. ‘I myself never climb stairs unless doors and windows are locked behind me. I like to have curtains drawn very close, and Mrs Gandell’s bed is always so safe, and hers is, which is the same thing of course. Funny. I was just thinking of your sister, Mr Thomas, and all those socks she knits for you. Waiting up for you, is she? When you get home, you can if you like, say a teeny weeny little prayer for me. Will tomorrow be like today? I expect so, and your big feet still pressing on that big dream. Just think of the uncertainty as you mutter the words, as your lips tremble. Almost every night, my head is buried in a silly bloody book. Mrs Gandell’s very romantic, Mr Thomas. But I expect yours is buried in God’s lap. Once, I even got buried in a dictionary. Think of that, me, Jones. Wish you’d pray for us both, Minister, and the hotel, and the rain to stop weeping, and somebody to give the trout seekers a real big push in Welsh directions. Ah! That would be just lovely.’ They were clear of the wall, they struggled on the carpet, and upstairs Mrs Gandell snored.
‘Once, she shouted in her sleep, once she left her light on a whole night. But always locks her door. Isn’t that odd,’ said Jones. ‘Yesterday morning we watched you coming, Mrs Gandell and me, saw through a top window, and I said to her, “Just look at that, Mrs Gandell. The way he walks, I said. Mr Thomas on sentry by the door, waiting, and inside he is rocking with passion, and thinking about her, and wanting her, and dreading her at the same time. Just like a nice pain.” You are a bloody fool.’
Thomas felt himself grabbed by his coat collar, pushed towards the door, the Jones words falling into his ears.
‘There’s the door. And the world is outside, Minister, and anybody staggering down London Street can dance in the rain if he wants to. Expect you’ll have to pass Penuel on your way home. ’Spect you’ll see that God Almighty is locked up safe for the night. After that you cross another little street, down another road, and there you are, and you’ll see the light shining at Ty Newdd. I shouldn’t think your sister knits socks at midnight. Some women in fairy tales used to, so I understand. Sometimes I think there’s a little madness about everything. Don’t you?’
He opened wide the door, but Thomas appeared rooted where he stood.
‘Come along,’ he said, but Thomas had not moved.
‘I said you could go, Minister,’ and he glanced upstairs. ‘Expect she’s still asleep, slugged by Gordon’s, or was it Booths?’
Thomas seemed to fall forward, suddenly clutched at the door.
‘You’re not ill?’ said Jones, and pulled him free. ‘Drop your hands, man of God, and turn your toes southwards. Go away, close this door after you, and shut fast your own when you get home, and nail yourself to the floor, and pray. Tell your sister that I was asking after her. I do know good people from bad, in spite of your authority, and the Word on your tongue that seems so final. Good night,’ and he shot Thomas into the darkness.
And Thomas lay in it, and pushed his cold hands into the sleeves of his coat, and stirred his body slightly, and peeped from behind the grasses, and wondered if she would come. Suddenly he exclaimed into the wind, ‘Ugh! Ugh!’ as though Jones were still there, but Jones had vanished. He came to his knees, scanned the shore. There was nothing there. He got up, paced up and down, rubbed his hands, and seemed to hear Jones say, ‘You are a bloody fool.’ Then he lay down again, drew in his head under the sheltering collar. He waited for the woman. He watched for the man. And he did not feel the cold.
