'Hilary - Hilaree -'

'Anyway, there it is, she used to be Lady Kitty Mallow and then she married Mr Gunnar Jopling and became Lady Kitty Jopling.'

Skinker came in at that moment. 'What's the matter, Mr Burde?'

'I just dropped my ink.'

He picked up my ink pot.

Some of the ink had come out onto the floorboards. I leaned over the edge of the desk staring down at the little dark pool and breathing hard. Very slowly I laid a piece of blotting paper down on top of the ink.

'Are you all right, Mr Burde? Feeling funny?'

I gave a jerk with my hand which he understood and obeyed. He left the room and closed the door.

'It's rather flashy to be called Lady Kitty though, isn't it?' Reggie was saying. 'I mean, she can't have been christened Kitty.'

I cleared my throat.

'Yes, Hilary, dear? Did you make some observation?'

I simulated some coughing to cover the fact that I was finding it hard to breathe normally or to produce my voice. 'You said something about Jopling?'

'Yes, a man called Gunnar Jopling.'

'I've heard of him before,' said Reggie. 'I thought he was some sort of politician, but he can't have been.'

'He was head of that thing on monetary reform. And then he was something at the United Nations. I saw him on television.'

'What about him?' I said.

'Haven't you heard? He's the new head of the office. He's taking Templar-Spence's place.'

'Templar-Spence has gone already,' said Reggie. 'But Jopling won't be here for three weeks.'

And it's his wife that's Lady Kitty, so I suppose her father was an earl or something.'

'How many earls are there?'

I leaned over my desk for a while and pretended to write. Then I quietly left the room and went to the cloakroom and put on my overcoat and took my umbrella and went downstairs and out into Whitehall. It was still raining a little. I wanted to see Clifford Larr. He never allowed me to talk to him in the office and frowned on meetings anywhere near it, but this was an emergency. He usually left the office to go to his lunch at St Stephen's Tavern at about twelve-thirty. It was now twelve-ten. I walked slowly up and down, hiding under my umbrella and keeping the main door under observation. About twenty-five minutes passed. Thirty minutes. Then Clifford emerged, dressed in his smart tweed coat and trilby hat. He was beginning to open his umbrella when he saw me and closed it again. He hesitated, then walked in my direction. We turned towards Trafalgar Square, walking slowly. I put my umbrella down.

'You've heard,' said Clifford.

'Yes.'

'Well, what do you want me to do about it?'

'I want to talk to you.'

'There's nothing to say. I've got a meeting at two and I've got to read a lot of stuff before it. You know we don't meet each other here.'

'I want to talk to you. Come into the park.'

'Good day. I go this way, you go that.'

'Come into the park. Do you want me to grasp your arm and make a scene?'

We changed direction. Clifford put up his umbrella, as a disguise no doubt. I put mine down. The rain had almost stopped. We passed in silence through the Horse Guards, crossed the parade ground and entered St James's Park, walking on the north side of the lake. The rain stopped completely and a little very brilliant pale blue sky was emerging over Buckingham Palace.

'What am I to do?' I said to Clifford.

'I don't see why you have to do anything,' said Clifford underneath his umbrella. 'You won't be meeting him.'

'I shall pass him on the stairs.'

'Do you imagine he'll attack you, seize you by the throat or something?'

'I shall have to resign.'

'Don't be so idiotic. Well, please yourself. Now I'm going back.'

'No. Please. Please. I heard it just now. I don't know what to do.'

'Put up with it. He'll ignore you. Or if you hate it, resign. There's no problem.'

'It's such a fantastic chance. Why should he come here of all places? I thought I'd never see him again, I prayed I'd never see him again. I hoped he'd die. I thought of him as dead.'

'That was rather uncharitable as well as rather unrealistic. He's a very successful man. And now I must - '

'Come as far as the bridge, Clifford, please, come as far as the bridge. I think I'm going mad.'

We walked onto the iron bridge and stood looking back over the water towards Whitehall. The fairy pinnacles of Whitehall Court were visible to the left of the sturdy outline of the New Public Offices, and beyond yellow island willows the gracious palace-like facade of the Foreign Office building gleamed a luminous greenish grey. A little watery sunshine was illuminating the crowded skyline against a backdrop of leaden darkness. South of the river it was still raining, and the glittering lines of the rain could be seen falling in front of the sky's thick gloom, lighted up by the pursuing sun.

'Do you think he knows I'm here?

'I shouldn't think so. It'll be a nice surprise for him to see a familiar face.'

'I can't endure it,' I said. 'If we meet we'll - faint with - hatred or something.'

'I don't see why you shouldn't say good morning like civilized persons.'

'Say good morning! Clifford, do you think anyone in the office - apart from you - knows about - me and Gunnar?'

'No.'

'You won't tell, will you?'

'No, of course not.'

'I feel ill. I think I'm going to faint now.'

'Don't be so spineless. As for hatred, I don't see why you should feel any.'

'If you don't see that you need a lesson in psychology.'

'Oh I know one is supposed to detest the folk one has injured. But there are limits.'

'There are no limits to anything here.'

'Nearly twenty years have passed after all.'

'Not for me. It's yesterday.'

'You know I can't stand this sort of intensity. I've got troubles of my own.'

'He's married again.'

'Why not? He has been getting on with his life while you have been sitting there paralysed with self-pity.'

'You despise me, don't you. You are ashamed of being my friend. You feel you'd lose face in the office if you were known to be my friend. All right, clear off then. And don't expect me next Monday.'

'All right, I won't. Good-bye.'

I watched him go, then dulled my eyes so that his figure should mingle with those of the indifferent people who were sauntering, now that the rain had stopped, in the frail sunshine. I crossed the bridge and began to walk slowly back along the other side of the lake. I went on up Great George Street and turned into Whitehall at the parliament end. As I did so I ran into Arthur who had just crossed the road from the station.

'Hilary! Oh Hilary!'

One look at Arthur told the story. He was completely transformed. He pulled his woollen cap off and waved it. Joy blazed out of his head, shining out through eyes, nose, mouth. He was illuminated like a Hallowe'en turnip. Even his hair managed to look beautiful.

'Hilary, Crystal says she'll marry me. I got her letter this morning. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't come to the office - I felt so happy - I just lay on the floor - I was simply bowled over by happiness - I could hardly breathe - I wanted to shout and sing but I felt too weak with joy - I just lay there as if I'd been mugged. Hilary, you do approve, don't you? I mean, you don't mind? Crystal said you - I say, Hilary, are you angry? Oh dear - are you - you look so - '

'No, no,' I said. 'I'm delighted about you and Crystal, absolutely delighted, of course. It's just that suddenly I'm feeling very ill. I think I'll go home.'

'Let me come with you. What is it? You look like a ghost.'

'No, no. It's just the flu. I'll go and lie down. I'm so glad about - you and - ' I hailed a taxi.

Arthur looked amazed. Then he waved me off. From the taxi, now stopped in traffic, I saw him catch up and pass me by, oblivious. As he came near, his lunatic beaming smile attracting the attention of the passers by, he suddenly began to dance, lifting his arms in the air. People passed and smiled. The taxi moved on.

At home I found the elastic band boy still in the kitchen and turned him out of the flat. Christopher, sulky for once, told me what I was and went with him. I went into my bedroom and emulating Arthur lay down on the floor.

THURSDAY.

'SING ME a song of social significance!' warbled Freddie Impiatt.

It was Thursday. I had turned up at the office on Thursday morning. It was better to be there than lying on the floor at home. I was now at the Impiatts for the same reason. I had told them in the Room that I had a stomach upset and felt rotten. They left me alone. I persuaded Arthur to leave me alone too. But I could hear him singing close by in his cupboard. Now Freddie was singing and even dancing a few steps on the carpet as he poured out the drinks. His big rubbery forehead was creased up with wrinkles of self-satisfaction and pleasure. He had already spoilt several jokes by laughing uncontrollably half way through telling them. Laura in a tentlike robe with jingling ornaments, hair streaming, was watching me intently. I had changed my plea to toothache and I could see she did not believe me. Clifford Larr came in. I looked at him. His eyes passed me stonily. I wondered if I had not better go home at once.

'I hear the yen is not to be devalued after all,' said Clifford.

'Hilary, what is it?' said Laura.

'I told you, toothache.'

'It's Tommy.'

'It isn't Tommy. If I had no troubles but Tommy I'd sing all day.'

'So it isn't just toothache.'

'And we still say we won the war!'

We went down to dinner.

'You like artichokes, don't you, Hilary?'

'They're an occupation. Like meccano. I don't call it eating.'

'I'll give you beans and a spoon next time.'

'I don't think food should be toys.'

This rubbish with Laura was so mechanical for both of us that I could carry it on, listen to Freddie and Clifford discussing the international monetary crisis, while busy the whole time with the most lurid private reflections. I was now eating some sort of meat which had been reduced to a characterless jelly and tasted mainly of garlic. I wondered whether I should go on to Crystal's place as usual after dinner to fetch Arthur away. Perhaps not. Fetching Arthur away had no meaning any more. Yet I had to tell Crystal what I had heard on Wednesday morning. And I had to see Crystal and pretend to bless her so precipitate decision. She would be waiting anxiously for that. I had felt incapable of visiting her last night. Better the assumed calm of the usual mind-numbing routine. It was perfectly true that I had said 'write to him'; but I had, as I now realized, said this imagining that she would understand that I did not mean it! Had she been in such a haste because she feared I might change my mind? Or was it all some sort of stupid dreadful misconception? Should I not stop it now? Mingling with these reflections, vivid scenes from the far past floated before my eyes with a coloured clarity which made the occupations of the present moment into shadows. How strange that behind a smiling chattering mask one may rehearse in the utmost detail pictures and conversations which constitute torture, that behind that mask one may weep, one may howl.

'What language are you going to learn next, Hilary?'

'Sanskrit. I've met a wonderful Indian girl who'll teach me.'

'I'm jealous! I can't think why you want to learn a dead language.'

'He knows all the living ones,' said Freddie.

'No, I don't. I don't know Chinese or Japanese or any Indian or African or Polynesian language. My Turkish is shadowy. My Finnish is poor - '

'Hilary loves showing off.'

'I always thought the Tower of Babel such a sinister myth,' said Freddie. 'Who could love a God who deliberately confused mankind in that mean way?'

'One could respect him,' said Clifford. 'He knew his business.'

'I wonder if there'll ever be a real international language?' said Freddie.