Imagined Corners. Willa Muir

he fashes himself about: I think he can’t account for it. So I rub that into him between times…. It’s just pure daftness to put up with him,’ she added angrily. ‘What kind of a life is it for a laddie of his age? He’s just been pampered in this house. But you won’t find strangers willing to do that. It might do him good to be living away from us. Except that I don’t see what kind of a job he could possibly be any good at.’

      ‘You’re wrong there, Sarah; he’s a very able fellow, Ned.’

      ‘He is, is he? Pity his ability can’t be turned in a more useful direction…. I must say I don’t think much of intellect,’ finished Sarah. ‘People who can pass examinations often don’t seem to be fit for anything else.’

      If that was a furtive fling at Mrs Hector Shand it missed the mark; William seemed not to have heard it.

      Sarah collected her knitting and went to see about supper.

      Ned came down to supper and sat silently hunched over his plate. William was uncommonly silent too, and Sarah felt a little sulky as she filled the plates and passed them down. She could not help wishing for once that she had a sensible man like John Shand in the house. William was all right, of course; but he was in a queer mood. He had been having queer moods lately. And he was seeing a good deal too much of that young Mrs Hector. What had happened to-night, she wondered.

      After supper, as Ned was sliding out of the door, William called: ‘Ned!’

      Ned paused suspiciously.

      ‘Won’t you play me a game of chess!’

      ‘No, I’m busy.’

      Ned pulled the door behind him with his usual force but the usual slam did not result, for William had caught hold of it.

      ‘What are you busy at? Mathematics?’

      Ned thrust his head in and jerked a thumb at Sarah.

      ‘Needn’t think you’re going to copy her,’ he said.

      ‘I was only asking,’ said William gently, ‘because I’m interested. I know you’re a wonder at mathematics.’

      ‘She thinks she knows everything,’ said Ned, still glaring at Sarah.

      But he did not go.

      ‘I’m not doing mathematics; I’m writing a story,’ he shot out suddenly.

      ‘A story?’ William was pleased.

      Sarah shrugged and began to collect the dishes.

      ‘A story,’ said Ned emphatically. ‘About the world as it should be. Every house in all the towns empty. Nothing but cats and dogs. No women.’

      His eye was still fixed on Sarah’s back as she vanished into the kitchen. Then he looked doubtfully at his brother.

      ‘I’d like to see it,’ said William eagerly. ‘May I come up?’

      ‘What d’you want to see it for, all of a sudden?’

      Ned’s face was twisted with suspicion; his eyes had a dull, guarded look.

      How thin the poor fellow’s getting! thought William, and he put his hand on Ned’s shoulder.

      ‘My dear lad,’ he said, ‘my dear Ned, just because you’re my brother.’ He let his hand lie, endeavouring to convey his affection through the contact.

      Ned shook it off furiously.

      ‘Who do you think I am?’ he shouted. ‘Jesus Christ?’

      He spat venomously in his brother’s face and slammed the door.