A Future Arrived by Phillip Rock Read Free Book Online Page A

hand. “That was all he talked about with me. He felt certain he was following Coatsworth to the grave and a lot of his disappointments in life came pouring out. His bitterness is a better word, perhaps. The world that used to be. Regrets for an altered landscape—and altered lives. Mine in particular, probably—although he left that unsaid.”
    â€œYou turned out okay.”
    â€œI daresay he’s thankful that I survived, but, still … a schoolmaster …” He rolled the white ivory ball to the end of the table. “Care to break?”
    â€œAll right.” He sighted along his stick. “Warped—this stick and your views. Is that all you think he is, thankful? You’re proof to him that miracles exist. You should have been fifty times dead … or still hidden away in Wales with the shell-shocked and the basket cases. You’re a lucky man, Charles, so please keep the undertone of self-pity out of the conversation.”
    â€œSorry. This has been a crisis to warp anyone’s viewpoint. Father’s not the only one who’s been dwelling in the past. My entire life passed in formal review. Charles Greville marching toward forty—though slinking would be the more apt term … and if that be self-pity, make the most of it.”
    Martin laughed and placed his stick back in the wall rack.
    â€œThe colly-wobbles of middle age. I know all the signs.”
    â€œYou? Nonsense. Height of your powers. Premier news wallah. The world’s your oyster. I’m curled up in the bloody shell.”
    â€œYou don’t really believe that, do you?”
    â€œNot usually. I’ve been content the past few years. But it’s a day for questioning, isn’t it? Death hovers and thoughts soar. The things one did not do seem to loom with exaggerated regret.”
    Martin turned to the table where the decanter rested and refilled the glasses.
    â€œWhy don’t we forget snooker and get pie-eyed?”
    Brandy became heavy on the tongue and Charles sent the butler for a couple of bottles of Pommery. The champagne, pleasantly iced, had a sobering effect on Martin, clearing his head while imparting a mellow glow. It seemed the perfect drink to have while seated in front of a fire while rain slapped against the windowpanes and wind moaned across the chimney opening far above. Charles, who rarely drank more than a sherry before dinner and a glass of port afterward, began to feel the effects. He slouched in his chair, legs stretched out toward the fire, staring at the flames.
    â€œRoger couldn’t drink. You remember Roger Wood-Lacy, don’t you?”
    â€œOf course,” Martin said.
    â€œCouldn’t drink at all. One drop of alcohol made him ill. I recall a night at Cambridge … May Week. Roger and I … and two girls whose names I can’t remember … in a boat on the river, Japanese lanterns swaying in Rectory Meadows. I possessed a small silver flask filled with cherry brandy. Roger took a sip and the girls had to paddle us ashore while I tried to keep his face out of the water.” He drained his glass and refilled it. “Couldn’t keep his face out of the water at Sedd el Bahr, I’m afraid.”
    â€œI wouldn’t think about that,” Martin said quietly.
    â€œI think about it, but never dwell upon it. V Beach and Gallipoli seem a thousand years in the past. So does Contalmaison and Delville Wood. Even the Royal Windsor Fusiliers have disappeared from the army list, done in by the budget. All flags cased. All dead noted and filed away—but difficult to forget. Although I do try, Martin. Try very hard. I suppose that’s the main reason I like Burgate. There’s something womblike about being a schoolmaster. A safe haven.”
    â€œThere’s a difference between a safe haven and a hideout.”
    â€œA point well made. Let’s just say that I’m aware of it.”
    â€œEver start that