Cooper had already pa.s.sed the department's Qualifying Examination--three days of written problems, followed by a two-hour oral examination. The fact that Cooper's grasp of some points was still slippery was, of course, regrettable. But what could this candidacy committee do? Gordon promised to press Cooper on these subjects, to--in effect--browbeat the student into making up the deficiency. The committee accepted this rather standard reply with nods.So far Gordon had skated on relatively firm ice.

Now Lakin tapped his pen reflectively on the table, tick, and slowly, almost languidly, reviewed Cooper's data. The true test of an experimenter, he said, was his data. The crux of Cooper's thesis was the spontaneous resonance effect. And this was precisely what was in question. "The thesis is an argument, let us remember, not a stack of pages," Lakin said with dreamy ease.Gordon countered as best he could. The spontaneous resonance phenomenon was important, yes, but Cooper was not primarily concerned with it. His topic was much more conventional. The committee should look at the spontaneous resonances as a kind of overlay, occasionally obscuring the more conventional data Cooper was trying to get.Lakin countered in earnest. He brought up the Physical Review Letters paper, which carried the names of Lakin, Bernstein, and Cooper. The final thesis would have to mention it. "And this, of course"--a sad, weary glance toward Gordon"means that we must bring up the entire issue of the ... interpretation ... which has been placed upon these ... interruptions ... of the resonance curves.""I disagree," Gordon snapped.

2 6 I.

"Fhe committee must consider all the facts," Lakin said mildly. -- "The fact is that Cooper is going for a standard problem here."

"It has not been so advertised."

"Look, Isaac, what I do has no connection with this thesis and this committee."

"I really rather believe," Gates broke in, "we should focus on the possibilities of the experiment itself."

"Quite so," Carroway muttered, rising from his half-sleep.

"Cooper will probably not deal with the, ah, message theory at all," Gordon said.

"But he must," Lakin said with quiet energy.

"Why?" Gordon said.

"How can we be sure his electronics gear is func- tioning right?" Gates put in.

"Exactly," Lakin said.

"Look, there's nothing that special about his equipment."

"Who can say?" Lakin said. "It contains a few modifications above and beyond the usual resonance rig. These if I understand them correctly--" a slight note of sarcasm here, Gordon saw --were designed to increase sensitivity. But is that all they do? Is there not some unforeseen effect? Something which makes this experiment, this apparatus, pick up new effects in the solid in question--indium antimonide? How can we say?"

"Good point," Gates murmured.

"What sort of effect are you thinking of, Isaac?"

Carroway said, genuinely perplexed.

"I do not know," Lakin conceded. "But this is the issue. Precisely the issue."

"I disagree," Gordon said.

"No, I think Isaac is dead right," Carroway murmured.

"There's some justice to it," Gates said, reflecting.

"How can we be sure this is a good thesis topic until 2 we know the equipment will do what Cooper says it will? I mean, there's Isaac here, who has doubts. You, Gordon--you thnk it's okaY. But I feel we ought to have more info before we go ahead.""That's not the purpose of this exam," Gordon said flatly."I believe it to be a legitimate issue." Carroway said.Gates added, "So do I."Lakin nodded. Gordon saw that they were all uncomfortable, not wanting to broach the issue buried under the detail of Cooper's apparatus and the niceties of theory. Still, Gates and Carroway and Lakin thought the message hypothesis was bulls.h.i.t, pure and simple. They weren't going to let the issue slide by. Cooper couldn't explain all his data, not the interesting parts, anyway. As long as that riddle hung in the air, this committee wasn't going to pa.s.s on a thesis.

Also, it was not simply a question of conflicting theories. Cooper was weak in some important areas.

He needed more study, more time peering at textbooks.

He had never been a particularly brilliant cla.s.sroom student, and here it showed up in spades.

That, plus the muddy issue of the messages, was enough."I move that we fail Mr. Cooper on this first try at the candidacy examination," Lakin said mildly. "He needs more preparation. Also, this matter of the spontaneous resonances--" a glance at Gordon"should be resolved.""Right/' Gates said."Um," Carroway said drowsily, already picking uphis scattered papers."But look--""Gordon," Lakin murmured with a kind of tired friendliness, "that is a .majority of the committee.

Could we have the forms?"Gordon stiffly handed over the University form for the examination, on which faculty could sign and write out either "yes" or "no" to the question of :3.

whether Cooper had pa.s.sed. The form came back across the table with three nos. Gordon stared at it, still off balance, still not sure the whole thing was over. It was the first time he had shepherded a student through this examination and now the student had failed--a rather uncommon event. The candidacy was supposed to be a putz of an exam, for Chrissakes. Gordon thought suddenly of the conventional theory of scientific revolutions, where paradigms overtook each other, old replacing new. In a way the message theory and the spontaneous resonance theory were paradigms, erected to explain one bunch of mysterious data. Two paradigms, arguing over a sc.r.a.p of experimental bread. It almost made him laugh.The sc.r.a.ping of chairs and shuffle of papers roused him. He muttered something to each of the men as they left, still dazed with the outcome. Lakin even gave him a handshake and a lightly delivered, "We do have to straighten this out, you know," before leaving. As Gordon watched Lakin's retreating back he saw that to the other man this was a regrettable incident involving a junior faculty member who had gone off on a tangent. Lakin had abandoned the softer ways of persuasion. He could no longer come to Gordon and gently urge him to give up his notions. That kind of conversation would lead nowhere had led nowhere. Their personalities didn't match, and maybe that was in the end the most important thing in research. Crick and Watson hadn't got on with Rosalind Franklin, and that prevented their collaboration on the DNA helix riddle. Together they might have cracked the problem earlier. Science abounded with fierce conflicts, many of which blocked progress. There were great missed opportu-nities-if Oppenheimer had broken through Einstein's hardening isolation, perhaps the two of them could have gone beyond Oppenheimer's 1939 work of neutron stars to consider the whole general relativistic problem of collapsed matter. But they hadn't, in 2 6 Gregory Ben fordwe know the equipment will do what Cooper says it will? I mean, there's Isaac here, who has doubts. You, Gordon--you think it's okay. But I feel we ought to have more info before we go ahead.""That's not the purpose of this exam," Gordon said flatly."I believe it to be a legitimate issue." Carroway said.Gates added, "So do I."Lakin nodded. Gordon saw that they were all uncomfortable, not wanting to broach the issue buried under the detail of Cooper's apparatus and the niceties of theory. Still, Gates and Carroway and Lakin thought the message hypothesis was bulls.h.i.t, pure and simple. They weren't going to let the issue slide by. Cooper couldn't explain all his data, not the interesting parts, anyway. As long as that riddle hung in the air, this committee wasn't going to pa.s.s on a thesis.

Also, it was not simply a question of conflicting theories. Cooper was weak in some important areas.

He needed more study, more time peering at textbooks.

He had never been a particularly brilliant cla.s.sroom student, and here it showed up in spades.

That, plus the muddy issue of the messages, was enough."I move that we fail Mr. Cooper on this first try at the candidacy examination," Lakin said mildly. "He needs more preparation. Also, this matter of the spontaneous resonances--" a glance at Gordon--"should be resolved.""Right? Gates said."Um," Carroway said drowsily, already picking uphis scattered papers."But look--""Gordon," Lakin murmured with a kind of tired friendliness, "that is a majority of the committee.

Could we have the forms?"Gordon stiffly handed over the University form for the examination, on which faculty could sign and write out either "yes" or "no" to the question of 2 3.whether Cooper had pa.s.sed. The form came back across the table with three nos. Gordon stared at it, still off balance, still not sure the whole thing was over. It was the first time he had shepherded a student through this examination and now the student had failed--a rather uncommon event. The candidacy was supposed to be a putz of an exam, for Chrissakes. Gordon thought suddenly of the conventional theory of scientific revolutions, where paradigms overtook each other, old replacing nev. In a way the message theory and the spontaneous resonance theory were paradigms, erected to explain one bunch of mysterious data. Two paradigms, arguing over a sc.r.a.p of expert'mental bread. It almost made him laugh.The sc.r.a.ping of chairs and shuffle of papers roused him. He muttered something to each of the men as they left, still dazed with the outcome. Lakin even gave him a handshake and a lightly delivered, "We do have to straighten this out, you know," before leaving. As Gordon watched Lakin's retreating back he saw that to the other man this was a regrettable incident involving a junior faculty member who had gone off on a tangent. Lakin had abandoned the softer ways of persuasion. He could no longer come to Gordon and gently urge him to give up his notions. That kind of conversation would lead nowhere had led nowhere. Their personalities didn't match, and maybe that was in the end the most important thing in research. Crick and Watson hadn't got on with Rosalind Franklin, and that prevented their collaboration on the DNA helix riddle. Together they might have cracked the problem earlier. Science abounded with fierce conflicts, many of which blocked progress. There were great missed opportu-nities-if Oppenheimer had broken through Einstein's hardening isolation, perhaps the two of them could have gone beyond Oppenheimer's 1939 work of neutron stars to consider the whole general relativistic problem of collapsed matter. But they hadn't, in 2 4 Gregory Ben fordp.art because Einstein stopped listening to others, cut himself off with his own drowsy dreams in a complete unified field theory ...Gordon realized he was sitting alone in the bleak room. Downstairs, Cooper was waiting for the result.

There were joys to teaching, but Gordon suddenly wondered whether they were worth the bad moments.

You spent three quarters of your time on the bottom quarter of the students; the really good ones gave you no trouble. Now he had to go down and tell Cooper.He shuffled his papers together and left. Sunlight streamed in yellow blades through the corridor windows.

The days were getting longer. Cla.s.ses were over. For a moment Gordon forgot Cooper and Lakin and the messages and let a single thought wash over him: the blessed long summer was-beginning.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

AUGUST, ! 998.

BY THE TIME MARJORIE HEARD A CAR CRUNCH ON.the gravel of their driveway, she had everything ready. There was ice in the freezer, carefully h.o.a.rded through the power-off hours. She was looking forward to company after a dull week. John's description of Peterson had quite prepared her to dislike him; Council members were remote, forbidding figures.

Having one in her own home carried the threat of committing some enormous social gaffe and the compensating thrill of contact with someone more important than a Cambridge don.John had given her two hours' notice, the cla.s.sic unthinking husband's trick. Luckily the house was reasonably tide, and anyway men never noticed things like that. The problem was dinner. She felt that she would have to invite him to stay, out of politeness, though with any luck he would refuse. She had a roast in the battery-a.s.sisted freezer. She had been saving it for a special occasion, but there was no time to defrost it. She knew it was important to put on a 2 good show for Peterson; John was not inviting him home out of friendship. A souffle, perhaps. She had searched through her kitchen cupboards and found a tin of shrimp. Yes, that would do it. A shrimp souffi and a salad and French bread. Followed by strawberries from the garden, and Cream. b.l.o.o.d.y elegant, considering.

It would exhaust a good fraction of her weekly grocery budget, but economy be d.a.m.ned on such short notice. She had fetched up a bottle of their expensive California Chablis and put it in the tiny freezer, the only way to chill it in time. Might as well make the occasion festive, she thought. For days she had hardly seen John, as he worked late every night at the lab. She had got into the habit of fixing a quick and easy dinner for the kids and herself, keeping a pot of soup to heat up for John whenever he came home.Outside, car' doors clapped. Marjorie stood up as the two men came into the living room. John looked his usual teddy bear self, she thought affectionately.

Seeing him in daylight for the first time that week, she also noticed how tired he was. Peterson was goodlooking in a smooth sort of way, Marjorie decided, but his mouth was too thin, making him look hard.'qhis is my wife, Marjorie," John was saying as she held out her hand to Peterson. Their eyes met as they shook hands. A sudden p.r.i.c.kly feeling ran through her. Then he looked away again and they moved into the room."I hope this isn't inconveniencing you too much,"

Peterson said. "Your husband a.s.sured me it was all right, and we still have some business to discuss.""No, not at all. I'm glad to have some company for a change. It can be pretty dull being the wife of a physicist when he's working on an experiment.""I imagine it can." He gave her a brief dissecting glance and strolled over to the window. "You have a charming place here."

2 7."What can I get you to drink, Peterson?" John asked. .-"I'll take a whisky and soda, please. Yes, this is charming. I'm very fond of the country. Your roses look especially good." He gestured towards the garden and followed this up with precise comments on soil conditions."You live in London, I suppose, Mr. PetersOn?"''Yes, Idol Thank you." He accepted a drink from John."Have you got a weekend cottage in the country too?" Marjorie asked.She thought she saw something flicker for a second in his eyes before he answered. "No, unfortunately.

I wish I did. But I probably wouldn't have time to use it. My work requires a lot of travel."'She nodded sympathetically and turned to her husband. "I'm one ahead of you on the drinks, but I'd like another one, please, John," she said, holding out her gla.s.s."Sherry, is it?" From the deliberately light way he spoke Marjorie saw at once the effort he was making to get on with Peterson. She had felt the tension between the two men from the first instant. John crossed to the sideboard and said in a strained, jolly voice, "It's Ian's job to see we aren't forced to sop up too much of this stuff in order to face the world."This remark made no visible impression whatever on Peterson, who murmured, "Unfortunate, that previous sots hadn't the excuse of a World Council to blame their reality-avoiding on.""Reality-avoidance?" Marjorie broke in. "Isn't that the new therapy theory?""A disease masquerading as a cure, I'll wager."

John chuckled.Peterson confined himself to a "Hmmmm," and turned towards Marjorie. Before he could change the subject, as he obviously intended, she said, in part to keep him off balance, "What's the reality behind these odd clouds we're seeing? I heard a bit on the : 8 Gregory Ben ford news about a Frenchman saying they were a new type, something--""Can't say," Peterson said abruptly. "Can't really say. I get awfully behind, you know."Marjorie thought, quite an artful dodger, yes. "Bra-zil, then. What can the World Council tell us about that?""The bloom is spreading and we are doing whatwe can." Peterson seemed to warm to this subject, perhaps because it was already public."Is it out of your hands, then?" she asked.

"Largely. The Council identifies problems and directs research, integrating them with political considerations.

We pounce on technology-related sore spots as soon as they become visible. Most of our function is integrating the satellite ecoprofiles. We sift through the data for telltale changes. Once. a supernational riddle appears, it's really up to the technical types--""---to solve it," John finished, returning with the sherry. "It's that putting-out-fires psychology that makes untangling a riddle so sodding hard, though, y'see. With no continuity in the researchm""Oh, John, we've heard that speech before,"

Marjorie said with a gay lilt in her voice she did not feel. "Surely Mr. Peterson knows your views by now.""Right, I'll pack it in," John agreed mildly, as if remembering where he was. '%Vanted to foCUs on the equipment thing, anyway. I'm trying to convince Ian here to get on the phone and get me help from the Brookhaven people. It takes clout, as the Americans say, and--""More than I have, regrettably," Peterson broke in.

"You have a mistaken notion of how much, or rather what kind of influence I have. The scientific types don't like Council people moving them about like pawIls."Marjorie said, "I've noticed that myself."John smiled fondly. "No point in being a prima donna if you don't get in the occasional aria, is there?

2 oBut no--" turning hack to Peterson "--I merely meant that some of Brookhaven's advanced equipment would cut through our noise problem. If you--"Peterson compressed his lips and said quickly, "Look, I'll press from this end. You know what that's like memos and committees and review 'panels and the like. Bar a miracle, it will take weeks."Marjorie put in loyally, "But surely you can exert some, some ...""Markham's the one who can do that best,"

Peterson said, turning to her. "I'll lay the groundwork by telephone. He can go and see the chaps in Washington and then Brookhaven.""Yes," John murmured, "yes, that would do it.

Greg has connections, I think.""He does?" Marjorie said doubtfully. "He seems, well..."Peterson smiled with amus.e.m.e.nt. "A bit off? A bit in bad taste? A bit not quite the thing? But he's an American, remember."Marjorie laughed. '/es, isn't he? Jan seems much nicer.""Predictable, you mean," John said."Is that what I mean?""I think," Peterson said, "that is what we usually intend. Doesn't rock the boat."Marjorie was struck by the agreement between the two men. It had a certain wry, sad quality to it. She hesitated for a moment as they both, almost as if on signal, stared into their gla.s.ses. Each tilted his gla.s.s and ice cubes tinkled against the sides. The amber fluid swayed and turned. She looked up at the silent, hovering room. On the dining room table the polished wood reflected the bouquet of flowers she had arranged, and the glossy vision of the vase seemed a cupped hand, upholding the world.Had Peterson told John something earlier, some bit of news? She searched for a way to break the mood.

"John, more sherry?"

27o ' Gregory Ben ford"Right," he said, and got up to fetch it. He seemed vexed. "What was that earlier in the car, about the woman from Caltech?" he called to Peterson."Catherine Wickham," Peterson said with a flt voice. "She's the one working on those micro-universes.""The papers you showed Markham?""Yes. If it explains your noise level, it's important."

-."So that's what you put the call in about?" John asked, pouring sherry. "Like another?" He held up the whisky."Would, yes. I got through to her, and then Thorne, the fellow who's running that group. She's coming over on the next flight."John stopped halfway through pouring. "Well. You must've pushed the right b.u.t.tons.""I know Thorne's contract monitor.""Oh." Pause. "Quite.""Well, let's not bore your wife by talking about business," Peterson said. "I'd like to see your garden, if I may. I spend most of my time in London or traveling and I must say it's delightful to see a real one-family home like this."He glanced sideways at her as they got up. A de-liberate play for her sympathy, she wondered?

"Does your wife travel with you?"

"No, she doesn't.""No, I suppose she couldn't, with her business.

She must be doing very well with it."''Yes, I believe it's flourishing. Sarah Usually does well with anything she undertakes." His voice gave nothing away."Do you know his wife, Marjorie?" John asked, puzzled. They were out on the terrace, at the head of the steps to the lawn. The sun was still high."No, not personallY, but I know of her. She used tobe Lady sarah Lindsay-Stuart-b.u.t.tle, you know."John looked blank."Oh, you wouldn't know. Anyway, she designs 2 7 !.

these marvelous little dresses now. Sarah Lindsay.You don't have any children, do you, Mr. Peterson?"

"No, I don't.They walked across the lawn. Somewhere off to the right a c.o.c.k crowed."Your chickens?" Peterson asked her."Yes, we keep half a dozen for eggs. Sometimes for eating too, though I hate killing the silly things.""What kind do you raise? Orpingtons or Leghorns, I suppose, if they're mainly for eggs."She looked at him in surprise. "You know something about hens, then, do you? Yes, we've got some Orpingtons. No Leghorns. They're good layers, but I like the brown-sh.e.l.led eggs better than white.""Right. And Leghorns are highly strung, too. They tend to cause chaos in a small run, which is what I suppose you have. How about Rhode Island Reds?

They lay nice brown eggs.""I've got a couple of-pullets right now. They haven't started laying-yet.""You're going to crossbreed, are you? That rooster didn't sound like a Rhode Island Red.""I'm surprised you know so much about them."He smiled at her. "I know a lot of things that surprise people."She smiled back politely, but tried to keep her eyes cold. She was one woman who was not so easily charmed. The man was despicable, she told herself.

He had no interest in her at all. He automatically flirted with her just because she was a woman."Would you care to have dinner with us this evening, Mr. Peterson?" she asked, rather formally."That's very kind of you, Mrs. Renfrew. Thank you, but I already have a dinner engagement. As matter of fact," he added, looking at his watch, 'I should probably be going. I'm supposed to meet someone at 7:30 back in Cambridge.""I'm afraid I'm going to have to go back to work this evening, too," John said."Oh, no," she protested. "That's too bad of you."

2 ?

She was feeling raher tipsy now and in the mood for company. She also felt full of energy, almost twitchy, as if she had drunk too much coffee. "I haven't seen anything of you for ages and I was going to make a shrimp souffi for dinner. I absolutely refuse to be left all alone again this evening.""Sounds like a tempting offer. I wouldn't hesitate for a moment if I were you, John," Peterson said with another of his insinuating smiles.John looked embarra.s.sed at her outburst before a stranger. "Well, all right, if it's that important, I'll stay for dinner. I'll probably have to go in for a couple of hours afterwards."They went back into the house. Peterson put his gla.s.s down. "Thank you for the drink. I'll let you know when I next have to go to California. Mrs. Renfrew, thank you for this pleasant interlude."She let John see him to the door and got herself another drink while they were in the hall. It was rather disappointing that Peterson was not staying to dinner. She might even have enjoyed a mild flirtation with him--although he was, she supposed, a totally unprincipled and unlikable character.John came back into the room, rubbing his hands.

"Well, that gets rid of him. I'm glad he couldn't sta aren't you? What did you think of him?""Reptilian," she said promptly. "Smooth and slimy. I wouldn't trust him an inch. Of course, he's very attractive.""Is he? He looks pretty ordinary to me. I was surprised that you knew all that about his 'wife. You never mentioned it before.""Oh but heavens, John, it all came back to me while he was here. Don't you remember? There was that frightful scandal about her and Prince Andrew.

Let me see, I was twenty-five so it must have been 1985. Prince Andrew's the same age as me and she was---oh, I don't know--about thirt I should think.

Anyway, I can remember how we all talked about it.

Randy Andy, we called him."

2 7 3.

"I don't remember it at all.""Oh, but you must. It was in all the papers. Not just the gossip columns, either. Lots of letters about the public expecting higher standards of the Royal Family and all that stuff. And the Queen had Peterson made an amba.s.sador to---well, I don't re-member where, but it was a long way off. Africa."

"You mean they were married, then?""Well, of course they were. That was what made it such scandal. They'd had a big Society wedding only about a year before that. He wasn't actually made an amba.s.sador. You know, first secretary or some such post. Yes, we used to think Prince Andrew was rather super. It was quite an exciting affair. I think the last straw was when they got a bit smashed one evening and he took her back to a room in Buckingham Palace and hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, a sign they'd pinched from some hotel. And then she told the reporters, when the story got out, that she'd always wanted to do it in the Palace b.u.t.the beds were hard and lumpy!""Good heavens, Marjorie!"She giggled at his expression. "Well, it is rather funny, when you come to think of it.,'"She Sounds completely irresponsible. It's almost enough to make me feel sorry for Peterson, although I dare say they deserve each other. I suppose he only stayed with her because she could further his ca eer."Very probably. I must say I didn't care for him at all." Now that she had said it that seemed right. It helped explain some of the odd tension and confusion.

He seemed interesting, but perhaps that was due to the three drinks. ''Well, I'll get that souffi into the oven. Could you set the table, love?""Um, yes," he murmured absentmindedly, moving across the room. "Thought we could catch the news, tOO . . ."Marjorie turned back. "News, that's it. You and Peterson had this funny moment earlier--what were you thinking of?"

2 7 a John stopped. "Oh, yes. He had the same look on his face as this afternoon, when he got a telephone call at the lab. It reminded me. I overheard part ..."

He paused, thinking. "Well?" Marjorie said severely.

"What about?"

"The clouds. A report on their composition. And when he sidestepped your question, I knew something was up,"

"Do you think the news will have anything?"-"If Peterson's keeping mum, I doubt it. Still ..."

The children had been watching ITV. John switched it back to BBC I. Marjorie stood in the doorway, watching. There was only one major news broadcast each day; the rest was entertainment, *

mostly situation comedies, with the oCCasional Western and old movie. Few wanted to see anything serious these days.

"--rioting in London, too, today, though there were no casualties. Cornish protest groups demonstrating in Trafalgar Square became involved in a scuffle with the police. A police spokesman says the lgroup ignored an injunction to clear the streets and et traffic proceed, so the authorities were obliged to dispel the gathering by force and arrest those who resisted. Hugh Caradoc, leader of the Cornish Movement for Independence, claims that the demonstration was an orderly one and that the police attacked without provocation." The screen showed a wild-eyed man with one fist upraised being dragged away by two policemen. The announcer paused again and looked more cheerful. "Preparations for the Coronation are going forward. The King and Queen visited Westminster Abbey today and were received by the Right Reverend Gerald Hawker, Dean of the Abbey.

They remained for a little under an hour." The familiar facade of Westminster Abbey appeared on the screen and, dwarfed by the portals, a couple emerged, waved briefly to some bystanders and ducked into a waiting limousine with the Royal Standard fluttering over it. "Invitations for the No- TIMESCAPE.

vember ceremony have now been sent out to heads of state all over the world. At the Royal Mews, work has started on refurbishing the State coach traditionally used for Coronations. It is to be entirely regilded at an estimated cost of ES00,000. Mr. Alan Harmon, M.P. for Huddersfield, said in the House of Com-'

mons today that it was 'an outrageous burden on the British taxpayer.' A Palace communique today confirmed that fourteen-year-old Prince David is suffering from chickenpox and is in isolation at Gor-donstoun School. The heir to the throne is reported to be whiling away his time reading science fiction comic books. And now forthe sports news of the day. At the close of play, Kent were all out for 245 in their match against Surrey ..."

, Marjorie left the room to prepare the dinner. John Renfrew remained in front of the TV set, waiting for the Yorkshire score. He never had time for sports any more, but he still followed the county cricket matches and the Tests and supported Yorkshire.

In the kitchen, Marjorie bustled about. She felt jittery.

Dull old cricket. Why did he sit there and watch that stuff? He could be helping her or at least talking to her, since he was planning to go out again. She wondered about the wine and decided against it. It was a waste to drink it when she was going to spend the evening alone and she felt lightheaded anyway.

She tossed the salad, got out bread and b.u.t.ter. The souffi was just ready. She went back to the living room. John was still in front of the television.

t'I thought you were going to set the table, then,"

she said sharply.

He looked up vaguely. "Oh, is dinner ready? I'll do it in just a minute."

"No, not in just a minute. The souffi's done and won't wait. Jolly well do it now."

She flounced out of the room and he stared after her in surprise. He ambled over to the sideboard and pulled out some forks and mats and put them on the table. Marjorie came back with the souffle.

76 Gregory Ben ford"Do you call that setting the table? Where are the napkins? And the gla.s.ses? And call the children, too.

I'm going to serve this before it falls." She sat down at the table."What's the matter, luv?" he asked innocently.''What do you mean, matter? Nothing's the matter,"

she snapped back."You sound cross," he ventured. '''Well, it's jolly irritating. All I ask you to do is set the table and I get everything else ready and then find you haven't done a thing. I'm fed up with working hard all day and what's the point of it? I clean the house and we never entertain any more so no one sees it anyway. I make a nice dinner and you just eat and run. I might as well have opened a tin of baked beans for all you'd notice. And I'm sick of spending the evening alone and half the night, for that matter She rose to her feet, confronting him.* "Marjorie, I'm sorry, my dear I hadn't realized ...

Look, I'll stay home tonight, if you feel that strongly' about it. I thought ... I mean, I know I've neglected you of late but this work means an awful lot to mc it's vitally important, Marjorie, but I couldn't do it without knowing you're there behind me. You're the most stable element in my life. ! don't tell you so because I take it for granted that you know it. I just count on you, I couldn't concentrate on my work at all if I knew anything were wrong with you."She smiled wryly. "Now you're making me feel guilty. I've let you down, haven't I? You want me to keep the home fires burning, be your support system, behind every great man and so on and so forth. Well, mostly I'm happy to do it, but this evening I feel a little selfish. It's not just your .being out all the time.

It's been a long hard day, one thing after another* I had to queue up for hours, they were out of meat everywhere, I can't get anyone to come and fix the loo for a whole b.l.o.o.d.y fortnight, and someone broke the lock on the garage today and stole a bunch of tools."