“You’ve grown so tall,” she whispered.
“Since...? I’m sorry, mother! It’s been such hell. I couldn’t tell you before. That night, when you all came up and dined with me and said good-bye... I meant to clear out for good and all. When we had a submarine alarm, I prayed that we should be torpedoed and sunk. And you knew all the time?”
“I guessed a little bit. Mothers do, you know, darling child....”
“It wasn’t her fault, mother,” said Eric with unsteady emphasis.
“You’d always say that. But it’s over, Eric; have you thought what you’re going to do now?”
“I’m afraid I’m rather damaged goods,” he sighed.
“Too bad to be mended?” She led him to a sofa and sat down with his head on her shoulder and her arms round him. “You’re dreadfully thin, Eric... And you’ve been smoking too much. D’you see? Your fingers are all yellow... Darling boy, I’m afraid you have to make another effort, a big effort. Do you remember the doctors gave you up three times before you were seven? And d’you remember at Broadstairs, when you lived for eight months on the verandah? I’m afraid we’ve given you all the brains of the family and none of the constitution. But you’re not going to give in now. Victory, Eric! This will be the biggest of all... In time—”
He broke away from her arms and buried his face in his hands:
“I’ve had two years!”
“You’ll forget everything, if you can forget yourself. If you could lose yourself altogether in work or in looking after some one—”