LITMIR.BIZ

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sir.’

      ‘Well, it’s possible. Computers are only machines.’

      ‘I was wondering, sir …’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘I was wondering if the word Chinaman had confused the computer.’

      Cousin Percy sat in thoughtful silence for some minutes. His eyes were dark pools, in which his thoughts leapt like trout at dusk. Pegasus could hear a clock ticking high up in the dark, endless room.

      ‘We’re always ready to admit our mistakes,’ said Cousin Percy at length. ‘But we must be sure. I think we ought to wait and see, and if after another twenty years he still isn’t a test cricketer, file a PXC 138b/9/7c/X3a/111359R for compensation.’

      ‘But, sir …’

      ‘If he stops being Chinese, or shows any sign of going in number six, let us know.’

      ‘But, sir …’

      ‘Yes, Baines?’

      ‘Don’t you remember me?’

      ‘Remember you? What do you mean?’

      ‘It doesn’t matter, sir.’

      ‘The week-end is a very good time for sporting activities and you should consider a business proposition very carefully.’

      Pegasus knew that he was dismissed.

      He stumbled into the door in his confusion. The shock woke him. He was lying on the floor, unable at first to account for the little room in which he found himself. Then he realized that he was at Rose Lodge, that he had been dreaming, that he had fallen out of bed. 6.25 a.m. A fine morning. Birds singing, none of them with hangovers. He sat in the easy chair, feeling sick. They mustn’t begin again, those dreams. There was no need for them, down here.

      He began his recovery programme, cold water on the head, liver salts, gradual dressing, one garment at a time, with rests in between, and then some fresh air. With these aids he managed to eat his breakfast without being sick. Bill gave him comics to read, and he felt obliged to glance at them. Bang. Cra-a-ck. Filthy Boche. Stinking Viet Cong. Kids’ stuff. Mustn’t offend Bill, though, not with the unspoken shadow always inside the house, however much the sun shone in.

      ‘You were late last night,’ said Bill.

      ‘A little.’

      ‘Perhaps you’d like to bring your friend with you on the picnic,’ said Brenda. She looked like an air hostess and a hangover was an aphrodisiac.

      Oh God, the picnic. Why couldn’t it rain, today of all days?

      Before going on lunch duty Pegasus walked in the sun with Mervyn. Insects were humming insectily, larks were singing larkily, and Pegasus said to Mervyn: ‘I’ve got to go on a picnic with my landlord and landlady this afternoon. I sort of promised.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘There’s no need for you to come.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘It won’t be much fun. Don’t feel obliged to come if there’s anything you’d rather do.’

      ‘I’ll come,’ said Mervyn.

      They took the picnic things out of the boot and went down a path where the cliffs fell away towards the estuary. Pegasus looked across towards the river winding up its broad, empty valley, white sails in the distance. Beyond the river lay the village and the Goat and Thistle and he longed to be back there now, saw a mirage of himself there. Mervyn made no effort to carry anything.

      First they bathed. This raised no serious problems. The water was cold, hard, North Sea water. Then they played French cricket. Bill and Brenda ran around with astonishing verve, falling in the sand, laughing at their own wild incompetence, ungainly, unnatural, urging Pegasus and Mervyn to show similar high spirits.

      Then they sank into the sand, exhausted. Pegasus gazed at the long, gradual curve of the sea, the sandy cliffs, fishing boats dotted over the sea, two coasters further out. Suddenly a fistful of sand was hurled over him. Bill and Brenda roared with laughter. Then tea began, slowly at first with tomato and egg sandwiches, gathering pace with sticky buns and chocolate cake, finally overflowing in a riot of jelly and bottles of pop.

      ‘O’oh. Jelly and bananas. Pegasus’s favourite,’ said Mervyn sarcastically.

      ‘Jolly good,’ said Bill.

      ‘Jelly good,’ said Mervyn, and Bill and Brenda laughed.

      Pegasus kicked out at Mervyn when no one was looking.

      ‘Ow,’ said Mervyn, looking accusingly at Pegasus.

      ‘That’s no way to treat your friend,’ said Bill to Pegasus.

      Mervyn grinned. Pegasus fumed.

      ‘Yum yum,’ said Bill, of the jelly.

      Pegasus mumbled.

      ‘Don’t talk with your mouth full,’ said Brenda.

      Pegasus looked helplessly at Mervyn, but there was no help from that quarter.

      ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Mervyn?’ said Brenda.

      ‘I’m having the time of my life,’ said Mervyn.

      ‘Jolly good,’ said Bill, measuring his length on the sand and yawning contentedly.

      They all measured their lengths on the sand and yawned contentedly. Above them the sky was blue, with white lines where aeroplanes had been. And the great sea teeming with fish. And beyond it the Baltic. And boats rocking gently on the summer breeze in the Baltic, with the rhythmic waters lapping against their hulls, and the long-legged summer girls. Another fistful of sand landed in Pegasus’s face.

      ‘Let’s go and dam up a stream,’ said Bill. ‘That’s always fun.’

      A quick search revealed a complete absence of streams. They played ducks and drakes instead. Neither Pegasus nor Mervyn could equal the flair shown by their host and hostess.

      Then they drove home.

      ‘Look,’ said Mervyn with mock excitement. ‘Cows.’

      ‘Oh yes,’ said Bill and Brenda.

      ‘Horses,’ said Mervyn.

      ‘Oh yes.’

      ‘Look, a traction engine.’

      ‘Oh yes.’

      ‘Look, an Early English church tower.’

      Pegasus felt drained by the nervous tension. Silence was even worse than conversation, because it made him fear what would be said next. But at last they were back. The ordeal was over.

      ‘Thank you very much indeed for a lovely time,’ said Pegasus.

      ‘Simply super,’ drawled Mervyn, crooking his hand. ‘I haven’t you know, let myself go so much in years.’

      ‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’ said Bill.

      Brenda rushed over to the hotel to serve dinner. Pegasus, whose evening off it was, went for a drink with Mervyn. They drove away from the village, into the heart of agricultural Suffolk, away from the sea.

      At first they didn’t mention the picnic. Then Pegasus said: ‘I’d say I was sorry I let you in for it, except that you didn’t do much to make things any better.’

      ‘Can’t you move?’ said Mervyn.

      Pegasus hesitated. ‘I don’t like to,’ he said.

      ‘You mean you like it there?’

      ‘It’s not that. But, you know, I’m all they’ve got.’

      Mervyn bought another round of drinks. The bar was shady and cool. The beer was hoppy,

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