At this time he began to train himself sexually, so that no matter how uninspiring, offputting or downright ugly the lady was who took him into her bed, he could rise to the occasion most satisfactorily. Simultaneously he developed a line of lover’s small talk which charmed them into overestimating their desirability. And the presents flowed in, suits and shoes, hats and coats, cuff links and watches, ties and shirts and hand-made underwear. It worried him not at all to be the recipient of such largesse, for he knew he paid in full.

Nor did it worry him when he learned there were plenty of older men willing to indulge him financially in return for his sexual favors, and in time he came to prefer older men to older women; they were more honest about their needs and their monetary obligations, nor did he have to weary himself to distraction perpetually reassuring them that they were still beautiful, still desirable. Older men had better taste, too; from them he discovered how to dress superlatively well, how to conduct himself like an aristocrat at everything from a cocktail party to a ministerial banquet, and how to sniff out the best people.

After several small parts in small plays put on at small theatres, he auditioned for the Royal, and almost got the part. The second time he auditioned for the Royal he did get the part, a significant role in a straight drama. The critics treated him kindly, and he knew as he read the notices that he was really on his way at last.

But the year was 1942, he was twenty-one, and he was conscripted into the army. His life from then until now he regarded as useless, an utterly wasteful blank. Oh, it had been easy enough; it hadn’t taken him long to learn how to get comfortable, nor to find the perfect fool to fool, an elderly career army officer who was more a spiritual than a practicing homosexual—until he met Luce, his new assistant. This man had fallen violently, pathetically in love, and Luce had used his love with total calculation. The affair lasted until the middle of 1945, when Luce, bored and restless because he knew the war was ending, ended the relationship in a diatribe of scathing, contemptuous repudiation. There was a suicide attempt, a scandal, and serious discrepancies in the accounting of moneys and equipment which had passed through their office. The investigation panel soon got Luce’s measure, in particular his capacity for wreaking havoc, and dealt with him very simply. They sent him to ward X. And in ward X he remained.

But not for much longer, he told himself.

‘Not for much longer!’ he said to the darkness of the ward.

A friendly MP had stopped him on his peregrinations around Base Fifteen, and told him that the hospital would soon be no more. He had retired to the MP’s doghouse and split a bottle of beer with him, toasting the news with light heart. But now that he was back inside ward X he knew postwar dreams could wait. First things first. And the first thing was fixing Langtry.

4

True to his word, Neil poured no more whisky for himself, but filled the two tumblers and gave one to Benedict, one to Michael.

‘God, I’m turpsed to the eyeballs,’ he said, blinking. ‘My head’s going round like a top. Stupid bloody thing to do. It’s going to take me hours to get myself together.’

Michael rolled his first sip around his tongue. ‘It is strong, all right. Funny, I never did like whisky.’

Benedict seemed to have overcome his initial reluctance very well, for he polished off his first glass fairly quickly, and held it out for more. Neil obliged, feeling it would do the poor coot good.

Luce was a proper bastard. But wasn’t it odd the way desired information arrived after one had despaired of ever getting it? In a roundabout way, what he needed to know about Michael had come from Luce. He forced his eyes to focus on Michael’s face, trying to see in it any trace of what Luce had maintained. Well, anything was possible, of course. For himself, that particular answer to the riddle would never have come. He didn’t really believe it, no matter what Michael’s papers said. They always, always gave themselves away; they had to give themselves away or they’d never get any, and Michael he was sure had nothing to give away. But Sis knew what was in those papers, and she wasn’t nearly as experienced as men who had spent most of six long years almost exclusively in the company of other men. Did Sis have her doubts about Michael? Of course she did! She wouldn’t be human if she didn’t and of late she hadn’t been very sure of anything within herself. Nothing had happened between her and Michael—yet. So he still had time.

‘Do you think,’ he said, speaking laboriously but quite distinctly, ‘that Sis knows we’re all in love with her?’

Benedict looked up, glassy-eyed. ‘Not in love, Neil! Just love. Love and love and more love…’

‘Well, she’s the first woman any of us have known as a part of our lives for a long time,’ said Michael. ‘It would be strange if we didn’t all love her. She’s very lovable.’

‘Do you think she’s lovable, Mike? Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know. Lovable seems the wrong word. I always think of lovable as… cuddly. Snub noses and freckles and a charming giggle. The sort of thing you see right off. But she’s not like that at all. When you meet her she’s all starch and steel, and she’s got a tongue like an upper-crust fishwife. She’s not pretty. Fantastically attractive, but not pretty. No, I wouldn’t have said lovable was the right word at all.’

Michael put his glass down and thought about it, then smiled and shook his head. ‘If that’s how you saw her, Neil, you must have been a very sick man. I thought she was dinky. She made me want to laugh—not at her, because of her. No, I didn’t see the starch and the steel at all, not at first. I do now. To me she was lovable.’

‘Is she still lovable?’

‘I said so, didn’t I?’

‘Do you think she knows we’re all in love with her?’

‘Not the way you mean,’ Michael said steadily. ‘She’s a dedicated person who hasn’t lived her life dreaming about love. She hasn’t got a schoolgirl mentality. I have a funny feeling about her, that when the chips are down she’ll always love her nursing best.’

‘There’s not a woman born who wouldn’t opt for marriage given the right circumstances,’ said Neil.

‘Why?’

‘They all live for love.’

Michael’s expression was actually pitying. ‘Oh, come on, Neil, grow up! Do you mean men can’t live for love? But love comes in all shapes and sizes—and both sexes!’

‘What would you know about it?’ Neil asked bitterly, feeling chastised, a little the way he sometimes felt in the presence of his father, and that wasn’t right. Michael Wilson was no Longland Parkinson.

‘I don’t know how I know about it,’ said Michael. ‘It’s an instinct. It can’t be anything else, can it? I certainly can’t claim to be an expert. But there are some things I know without ever remembering learning. People find their own levels, and every person is different.’ He stood up, stretched. ‘I’ll be back in a tick. I’m just going to see how Nugget is.’

When Michael returned a few minutes later Neil looked up at him rather derisively; he had created a third glass by the simple expedient of emptying the dirty water out of a watercolor jar, and had filled it with whisky for himself.

‘Drink up, Mike,’ he said. ‘I decided I felt like another one after all. I’m celebrating.’

5

Sister Langtry’s alarm went off at one o’clock in the morning; she had set it because of Nugget, wanting to check on him at an hour when his headache should have eased off. And something about the men tonight had triggered a sharp attack of premonitory disquiet; it would not be a bad idea to check on everyone.

Since probationer days she had trained herself to rouse rapidly, so she got out of bed immediately, and took off her pajamas. She climbed into trousers and bush jacket without bothering to don underwear first, then pulled on thin socks and tied up her daytime duty shoes. At this time of night no one would be interested in whether she was in proper uniform or not. Her watch and keys were on the bureau along with her torch; she put them into one of the jacket’s four patch pockets and belted it securely. Right. Ready. Just pray everything in X was nice and quiet.