An Indecent Obsession Read Free Page B

for the door, where he collided with Benedict and stepped back with a gasp, as if he had been burned. He recovered quickly, lifting his lip contemptuously, but standing to one side with a bow and a flourish.
    ‘How does it feel to be a killer of old men and little children, Ben?’ he asked, then disappeared inside.
    Benedict stood so starkly alone, so devastated, that for the first time since entering ward X Michael experienced a stirring of deep feeling; the look in those quenched black eyes moved him profoundly. Maybe that’s because this is the first honest emotion I’ve seen, he thought. The poor bastard! He looks the way I feel, as if someone has switched off all the light inside.
    As Benedict moved to his chair with a monk-like shuffle, hands folded one on top of the other across his midriff, Michael’s gaze followed, studying the dark face intently. It was so eaten away, so consumed by what went on behind it, so very pitiable. And though they were not alike, Michael found himself suddenly reminded of Colin, and he wanted so badly to help that he willed the withdrawing eyes to look back at him; when they did, he smiled.
    ‘Don’t let Luce get your goat, Ben,’ said Neil. ‘He’s nothing more than a very lightweight twerp.’
    ‘He’s evil ,’ said Benedict, bringing the word out as if it chewed its way into utterance.
    ‘So are we all, depending how you look at us,’ said Neil tranquilly.
    Sister Langtry got up; Neil was good with Matt and Nugget, but somehow with Ben he never managed to hit the right note. ‘Did you find out what’s happened to dinner, Ben?’ she asked.
    For a moment the monk became a boy; Benedict’s eyes warmed and widened as they looked at Sister Langtry with unshadowed affection. ‘It’s coming, Sis, it’s coming!’ he said, and grinned, grateful for the consideration which had prompted her to send him on the errand.
    Her eyes on Ben were soft; then she turned away. ‘I’ll help you get your stuff sorted out, Michael,’ she said, stepping inside. However, she wasn’t quite finished with the group on the verandah yet. ‘Gentlemen, since dinner’s late, I think you had better have it inside, shirts on and sleeves rolled down. Otherwise you won’t beat the mossies.’
    Though he would rather have remained on the verandah to see what the group was like when she wasn’t present, Michael took her request as an order and followed her into the ward.
    His webbing, his pack and his kit bag lay on the bed. Arms folded, standing to watch him. Sister Langtry noticed the methodical ease with which he proceeded to dispose of his possessions; he commenced with the small haversack attached to his webbing and unearthed toothbrush, a grimy but precious morsel of soap, tobacco, shaving tackle, all of which he stowed neatly in the drawer of his locker.
    ‘Did you have any idea what you were getting into?’ she asked.
    ‘Well, I’ve seen plenty of blokes go troppo, but it isn’t the same thing as this. This is a troppo ward?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said gently.
    He undid the roll of his blanket and groundsheet from the top of his pack, then began to remove socks, underwear, a towel, clean shirts, trousers and shorts from the pack’s interior. As he worked he spoke again. ‘Funny, the desert never sent a tenth as many men around the bend as the jungle. Though it stands to reason, I suppose. The desert doesn’t hem you in; it’s a lot easier to live with.’
    ‘That’s why they call it troppo… tropical… jungle.’ She continued to watch him. ‘Fill your locker with what you’ll need. There’s a cupboard over there the rest can go in. I’ve got the key, so if you need anything, just yell… They’re not as bad as they must seem.’
    ‘They’re all right.’ A faint smile turned one corner of his nice mouth up. ‘I’ve been in a lot loonier places and predicaments.’
    ‘Don’t you resent this?’
    He straightened, holding his spare pair of boots, and looked directly at