Eve glanced around the big, shabby room. She had been here only once before. It was a room that set her teeth on edge. It was dirty and dusty. Two naked French dolls stood on the mantelpiece, either side of a row of tarnished silver sporting trophies. Above them, slung perilously on two hooks, was a sculling oar; above the oar were two crossed squash rackets. On either side of this sporting set were boxing gloves that hadn’t been dusted since they had been hung in position.
Eve had certain knowledge that her brother had loathed sport of any kind during his very short stay at college. He had been sent down after six months of college life for ‘infamous behaviour’, the details of which she had never learned. Where he had filched the sporting trophies from she couldn’t imagine, and didn’t like to ask.
Over the bed was a large framed photograph of the men of his year, sitting bolt upright with arms crossed and chins thrust out: young men looking into the future with aggressive determination. She looked at the photograph, and for a moment she couldn’t find Adam amongst these determined young men, then she spotted him by his shifty expression, and jeering, untrustworthy smile. He was not so thin as he was now, and she noticed with surprise that his hair was thicker, and it came as a shock to realise his hair now was thinning fast, hinting at a premature baldness.
She moved away from the photograph, feeling ashamed as if she had been caught looking through a keyhole. The years that had passed since he had left college had taken a heavy toll. At least, in the photograph, he looked amused, happy and cared-for, but looking at him now, as he stood scowling at her, he looked seedy and disreputable and forsaken.
‘Wel , what is it?’ he asked crossly. ‘Do sit down, can’t you? Must you wander around sticking your nose into everything?’
She sat down, and as she did so she saw something on the floor, half hidden under the bed, and she felt a sense of sick shock as she hurriedly averted her eyes.
‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, sit ing on the window-sill and staring at her. ‘You’re thinking I’ve had a woman up here. Wel , you’re quite wrong. I was sound asleep when you knocked.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me who you have here,’ she said quietly. ‘But you don’t have to lie about it.
She dropped a stocking on the stairs. You’d better give it to her. She didn’t look as if she could afford to lose it.’
Gillis’s face registered surprised blankness.