The End Game Read Free Page B

this country, boyo. Thanks, Sidney. Have one for yourself.”
    “You were saying?” said Father Bear.
    “I was saying,” said Morgan, taking a pull at his drink, “that there’s one thing wrong with England. It’s full of Englishmen.” He roared with laughter.
    “He’s drunk,” said Baby Bear. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Tom.”
    “I’m not drunk, I’m happy,” said Morgan. “Another drink for each of my ursine friends.”
    There was no fight. Three reciprocal rounds later, Morgan and Hopkirk were walking up Lower Thames Street in search of a taxi. No taxis appeared.
    “We’d better take the Underground,” said Morgan.
    “We’re going to be late,” said Hopkirk.
    “Never do things by halves,” said Morgan. “If we’re going to be late, let’s be thoroughly late. I know a sweet little place, just down here to the left—”
    “No, ” said Hopkirk.

 
3
    They were very late, and Susan was very angry. She said, “You might have telephoned. The soup’s boiled over twice, and the meat will be like old leather.”
    “Nothing that you have cooked could possibly be like old leather.”
    “I suppose you’ve been on a pub-crawl. Take your hands off me and wash them.”
    “I’m terribly sorry,” said Hopkirk. “I tried to get him back in reasonable time, but it was a losing battle.”
    Susan was not placated. She said, “Just because David is a selfish pig, there’s no need to play up to him.”
    After an uncomfortable meal, at which most of the conversation was supplied by David, Susan went out to the kitchen to make the coffee, and Gerald said, “I think I won’t wait for coffee. I’ll be buzzing off now.”
    “Don’t be a rat. You can’t push off and leave me.”
    “I think I must.”
    “Have your coffee first. The worst is over.”
    David was wrong. When Susan came back, the banked-up fires burst into yellow flame. She said, addressing her remarks pointedly to Gerald, “Did you have a very tiring day at the office? Sugar? Milk?”
    “Fairly tiring. Sugar, thank you. No milk.” Gerald stirred his coffee energetically.
    “I expect you like getting home in the evening and relaxing.”
    “Yes. Yes, I do.”
    “You have a service flat, I believe. With its own restaurant. That must be very convenient.”
    “Oh, it is. Very.”
    “So you can please yourself what time you get in.”
    “Within reason.”
    “I see.” Susan looked out of the corner of her eye at David, who was also stirring his coffee. “So if you rolled in drunk at nine thirty, you’d still get something to eat?”
    “I expect they’d scratch up some sort of meal.”
    “But then, it’s different when you’re living somewhere on a commercial basis. I mean, when you’re paying your way.”
    “That’s right. I think I ought to be moving along now.”
    Susan ignored this. She said, “You’d suppose, Gerald, that someone who was living somewhere at someone else’s expense would be even more considerate, don’t you think?”
    “Well—”
    “If you mean me,” said David, “why not say so. Someone! Somewhere! Someone else! For Christ’s sake, stop wrapping it up. What you’re saying is that I scrounge on you.”
    He had gone very red.
    “Since I pay the rent of this flat and the rates and the cleaning woman and the electricity and the gas, and you occasionally chip in for the groceries, yes, I suppose you could put it that way.”
    “I’m an incumbrance. And you want to get rid of me. Is that right?”
    “I didn’t say so. I was simply stating some facts. More coffee, Gerald?”
    “No, really—”
    “You don’t have to say it twice,” said David, “you’ve made your meaning quite plain. I can take a hint as well as the next man.”
    He got out of his chair, upsetting his coffee cup as he did so, stumped across to the door and went out. Gerald said, “Let me mop that up before it ruins the table,” and shot out into the kitchen to fetch a cloth. When he came back with it, Susan was