Our Time Is Gone (34 page)

Joseph Kilkey was silent for some minutes. He stared at Father Moynihan. It pleased him to think that this priest could so talk to him, that he liked him so much. They were more than good friends. He was indeed the privileged guest not only of this clever, but also this generous-hearted man. He got up and went over to him. He knelt down.

‘Father,' he said, ‘will you give me your blessing? I shall feel a happy man. I shall never lose my tongue, nor shall I ever break the word, or forget what I have promised to do! I can't—I won't go, Father. I'm no prig, Father Moynihan, but I say to you now I've harmed no man and I will fight no man.'

The priest put a hand on his head and blessed him. ‘Peace,' he said.

The bell rang.

‘There now. I have to be off. Joseph, take care of yourself now. And please do as I ask. Remember, you promised! Now good morning to you, and God keep you.'

He took Mr. Kilkey as far as the vestry door. They talked of the weather, the trees that he, Joseph, had planted last year, the whist-drive and the drive to the country that had been cancelled. They talked of Mrs. Fury, and Father Moynihan said he had an idea that Mrs. Fury was afraid of him. Joseph Kilkey laughed then.

‘Well, good-bye, Father, and thank you very much indeed.'

They shook hands. Father Moynihan stood watching him go down the path. He leaned against the door-post and did not move until Joseph Kilkey had gone from sight. Then he closed the door and went up to dress to go out.

‘What goodness in God's ugly creature,' he said, as he climbed the stairs.

And Joseph Kilkey now knew what he must do. Mr. Slye, Adolphus Terrace. Well, Adolphus Terrace wouldn't be difficult to find. Straightaway he took a tram to town.

Nothing pleased Desmond Fury more than the salute he received from the Marine on the gangway. There was something about that salute that made all struggle seem worth while. There was the destroyer and there was the gangway. And somewhere aboard that ship Lieutenant John Downey. A lieutenant. A gunnery officer. And his wife's brother.

It was wonderful. If anybody had told him he was to meet John Downey in such circumstances he wouldn't have believed them. Then he went up the gangway. He stood for a second or two on the deck, doing some rapid thinking. How did one act on these occasions? Did one say——? He looked up suddenly. A sailor saluted him. Desmond Fury returned the salute.

‘This way, sir.'

‘Thank you,' replied Captain Fury, and followed the sailor along the deck. They descended a companion-way, went along an alleyway.

‘This way, sir,' said the sailor, doubling round the corner. They stood outside a white door. To Desmond it was beautifully white. The sailor knocked. The door opened.

‘Captain Fury to see you, sir,' said the man, saluted and turned on his heel.

The door opened wider. ‘'Morning, 'morning,' said Lieutenant Downey. ‘Come in.'

Desmond Fury went in. He noticed at once that the officer did not shake hands.

‘Will you sit down?' said Lieutenant Downey, and motioned him to a settee.

‘Thank you,' replied Captain Fury, still thinking it odd that they should not have shaken hands, or was it just a way these people had? Perhaps it was.

‘You wished to see me about something?' asked Lieutenant Downey, and he too sat down.

Desmond Fury looked at John Downey. Hadn't shaken hands. Did he wish to see him? ‘Christ!' exclaimed Desmond to himself, ‘what kind of world is this, and what kind of man is this, or isn't it a man?' He fixed his eyes on John Downey. He stared at him.

Tall, slim, an almost boyish—no, not even boyish—a woman's face. Very pale, thin lips, a good nose, a bit too long. Sharp eyes, a kind of greenish grey. A smooth forehead. Hair parted in the middle. He stared at the hair and immediately remembered that a parting in the middle seemed to be the fashion amongst officers. Long, slender hands. But no gunner's hands. He was the brain of the gun.

‘Do I like him?' he asked himself. Never shook hands, said: ‘You wished to see me?' Said it just like that. Did
he
Captain Fury wish to see him. ‘God, no! What am I doing aboard this confounded ship? What a damn fool I am to be sniffing about amongst people,' he thought. No! He didn't like this man.

Married to his sister. His own brother-in-law. Said: ‘You wished to see me? And suddenly he wanted to laugh and shout: ‘Is this a bloody joke? Why, I'm married to your sister and I don't know a damned thing about her except that she loves me, and for some reason is afraid of
you
. But
who
are you?'

Yes, who was this weak-looking creature sitting in front of him? It was more than surprising. It was simply staggering. In the Lieutenantless world one cried: ‘Hello! Pleased to see you. I'm your sister's husband.' Everything on the table. No bones about it. Here I am? And how are you? What did one say? How did one act? Did one
have
to act in this world.

Was there something wrong with him? Didn't he look right? He had looked into the glass that morning and had seen a giant of a man resplendent in uniform. Why didn't this man shake hands? Well, he must be careful. No use losing his temper. It could rise so quickly and explode, especially when your own brother-in-law didn't even let on to know you, and simply said: ‘You wished to see me?' Just like that! As though he had called to say that Lieutenant Downey hadn't paid his laundry last week, or that he had come for his subscription to the Primrose League. He might say: ‘Of course I wished to see you, because I want you to keep well clear of my wife, who doesn't like you.'

No! Not that. He had more sense. Who was he? Nothing much. Physically one could blow him over with a feather. Yes, he must keep cool. After all it was only the surface, the mask, the outer skin of these people that meant anything. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps wrong. He clasped his hands around his knees, leaned back against the bulkhead. What should he say first?

‘I didn't wish to see you at all,' said Desmond. There, it was out now. ‘It was your sister who asked me to come down and see you.' And for some reason he called the man ‘Mister.' He would
not
call him a Lieutenant.
He
was a Captain, but it meant nothing to ‘Mister ‘Downey. Obviously Captains were quite common. ‘No, Mr. Downey, I think you made a mistake there. It was Sheila who asked me to see you. You
are
her brother, I suppose?' and he forced a smile.

Lieutenant Downey rose to his feet, went to his wardrobe, took a pair of binoculars from a drawer, sat down again and began polishing them.

‘I saw her yesterday, and I had an idea you might come. Though I could hardly imagine what about?' said John Downey, as he brushed bits of imaginary dust from his coat. He did not look at Captain Fury, seeming quite content to study the pattern on his Turkish carpet. But he had looked at him nevertheless. So this was the man she had run off with. How amusing!

‘You don't seem very pleased about it, anyhow,' said Captain Fury. ‘But then, I wouldn't expect you to. However, I made a point of coming here because for some reason my wife doesn't wish you to see her. She may have reasons for that. I don't know. But I never make enquiries of her about her relatives. I happened to be on business in this neighbourhood so I thought I'd see you so that you might know from me that I don't want you seeing her either.'

Desmond Fury was on his feet at once, as though these very words, like hands, had pulled him from the settee.

‘I have an idea you don't like me. But I don't mind at all, I assure you. I daresay you know a lot about me. The difference between us,
Mister
Downey, is just this. That I know nothing about you, and aren't even interested. But what you know about me is
worth
knowing. I'm not ashamed of that. I noticed too, not being so thick as you might think, that you didn't even shake hands. Well, that's that. I hope you'll respect your own sister, anyhow. I advise you to keep away,' and he turned to go. But as he did so, Lieutenant Downey put out his hand and placed it on Desmond's arm.

‘No! Don't go yet. Please sit down. Do sit down.'

‘What do you want to say? I have important things to do. Not polishing binoculars.'

‘What an amusing fellow!' thought the Lieutenant. Married to Sheila! Good heavens! What a world it was! Sheila married to this seven feet of brawn and boldness. So
this
was Captain Fury. Risen from the ranks, no doubt; you could tell them at a glance. They lacked something.

‘Believe me, Captain Fury,' he said, leaning forward and studying Desmond, ‘I hadn't the slightest intention of being rude. But it's so sudden. I mean, I never expected you. Glad to meet you.' He stretched out his hand. ‘Well! Well!' he said. ‘Why doesn't Sheila want me to come and see her?' he asked suddenly.

Desmond Fury looked round the room. He looked round it in an agitated way. What was he to think of this man? First he assumed airs and now he was actually courting his favour? Perhaps it was a trap. Trap. He said: ‘Trap! Trap!' to himself. What a silly idea. Being trapped by
that
. Cold and aloof, and certainly bad mannered, and then
nice
. It was hard to understand Perhaps that was a technique with them. But he could be nice. Yet he didn't like him.

‘I never bothered to ask her,' said Desmond coldly. ‘Well, I must really be off,' he wound up.

How changeable the fellow is! First he ignores me and now he asks me to sit down. But what for? Just to watch him flick dust from his coat. Perhaps it was to admire that sleek black hair parted in the middle. He glanced at his wrist-watch.

Lieutenant Downey said: ‘Have a drink, Captain?'

Desmond smiled, said: ‘Why yes.' How charming this fellow could be! It made you want to be more careful with people of this type.

‘What'll you have?'

‘I don't mind,' Desmond said, ‘though I hardly ever drink before lunch.'

‘Stay to lunch,' said the Lieutenant. ‘What a good idea! Anyhow, you'll have
half
a glass of sherry,' and he went to the cupboard to get it.

‘Thank you, Mr. Downey, I drink your health,' and his two eyes travelled slowly down and slowly up again, taking in all of this person, and missing nothing, not even a single hair. Why should Sheila want to hide from this man? Here he was right in the middle of a new world. He was intrigued. Perhaps Mr. Downey would say something after the sherry had settled. Desmond laughed.

‘I suppose you must have thought it rather
odd
'—was odd the word they used?—‘I suppose you must have thought our marriage rather odd.
We
didn't, though. We simply fell in love right away. Funny how it happened. I was fishing near this large house.'

‘Poaching?' queried the other.

‘Perhaps. But there I was, fishing, and enjoying my holiday, when along came this young woman. We talked, and then it all happened quickly, I never knew I should be so carried away by anybody. Anyhow, Sheila came to England with me. We got married. I went on with my work just as usual. And then along came the war and somebody thought I was valuable so they made me a captain.'

‘Did she ever say why she ran off with you like that, Captain Fury?' asked John Downey.

‘No! Nor did I ask her. I wasn't in love with where she came from. I was in love with her. And I can tell you, Lieutenant, that we are very happy.'

‘You think so.'

‘Oh, I know!' said Desmond. ‘All the same I've often wondered why she was afraid of being tracked again. Many a time I've been curious about her background'—background—yes, that was the right word—‘and seeing you here like this, well, it roused my curiosity. I used to think she had none. I mean it was just as though she had risen up out of the earth. What did you come to see her about? How did you track her down?' asked Desmond.

Lieutenant Downey shrugged his shoulders.

‘Oh!' he said, ‘one of those accidents. As a matter of fact I was with my ship when she ran off like that. I didn't bother. I thought, well, she's old enough to have sense. She knows what she's doing. So I just didn't bother. But now of course it's different. You see I've been home since, and I was rather shocked by what I saw. But there, I must arrange about lunch,' and he got to his feet and left the room.

‘Run away,' thought Desmond. ‘Interesting! But it wouldn't be half so interesting as that lunch.' He felt more sure of himself. He could fence as well as Mr. Downey. What a curious person he was! So thin and delicate. In the Navy. In it for some years, in fact. Perhaps he had run away too. Must be a queer home they had. H'm! must be something in this after all. No wonder Sheila didn't want to talk about it.

Lieutenant Downey returned. Would Captain Fury like lunch aboard or ashore? Desmond said he didn't mind which. He was feeling hungry. What time was lunch then?

‘I tell you what,' said Lieutenant Downey, ‘I know of a good place. I often go there when my ship crosses over like this. We'll go to Tapton's—they serve good food. Like good food?'

Like good food? What the hell did that mean? That he didn't know what good food was?

‘I make no distinction at all when I'm hungry,' replied Desmond, smiling. ‘I'm ready.'

Tapton's. Captain Fury was more familiar with the outside of it; he had passed it so often in the ‘old days.' Gelton's great fed there. He had seen them go in. He knew them all. The people who ran Gelton, who made the local laws, who ran the commercial houses of Gelton; and the people who spouted Culture from time to time. He had seen
them
go to Tapton's, too. Though Culture was something he hadn't touched yet. Tapton's. The rendezvous for the local lights, the provincial success, the local genius. Everybody went to Tapton's. On the other hand Lieutenant Downey hardly noticed the outside of this famous place and wasn't the slightest bit interested in the people who went there.