Voice receded down the passage.

Sean relaxed slowly and waited for the ache behind his eyes to diminish.

After a while he became aware of the coffee tray on the table beside the

bed and he weighed the additional pain that the effort of sitting up

would involve against the beneficial effect of a large cup of coffee. It

was a difficult decision but in the end he carefully raised his body to

a sitting position and poured a cupful. There was a small jug of fresh

cream on the tray, he took it in his right hand and was just about to

add a little to the cup when there was a knock on the sitting-room door.

Come in! called Sean. He supposed it was the waiter coming to collect

the tray. Sean searched his mind for a really scathing remark to send

him on his way. He heard the sitting-room door open. Who is it! he

asked. There were quick footsteps and then Sean started so violently

that the cream slopped out of the jug onto his sheets and his new

nightshirt. Good God, Candy, you shouldn't have come here. Sean was in

a frenzy of agitation. He put the jug back on the tray with nervous

haste and wiped ineffectually at the mess on his nightshirt with his

hands. If my wife. . .

Did anyone see you? You mustn't stay. If Katrina knows you've been

here she'll . . . well I mean, she won't understand. Candy's eyes

were puffy and Trimmed with red. She looked as though she hadn't slept.

It's all right, Sean, I waited across the street until I saw your wife

leave. One of my servants followed her, she went to the Dutch church on

Commissioner Street and there the service lasts about fifty years She

came into the room and sat down on the edge of his bed. I had to talk

to you alone. I couldn't let you go without knowing about Duff. I want

you to tell me about it . . .

everything about it. I promise not to cry, I know how you hate it

Candy, let's not torture ourselves with it. He's dead.

Let's remember him alive. Sean had forgotten his headache for its place

had been taken by pity for her and worry at the position in which she

had placed him. Tell me, please. Now. I'd never rest again if I

didn't, she said quietly. Candy, don't you see that it doesn't matter?

The way in which he went is not important. All that you need to know is

he's gone. Sean's voice faded but went on softly, almost to himself,

He's gone, that is the only thing that matters, he's gone and left us

richer for knowing him and a little poorer for having lost him. Tell

me, she said again and they looked at each other, their emotions locked

behind expressionless faces. Then Sean told her, his words limping at

first, then faster and stronger as the horror of it came back to him.

When he had finished she said nothing. She sat on the edge of the bed

staring down at the patterned carpet. Sean moved closer to her and put

his arm around her. There is nothing we can do. That's the thing about

death, there is nothing you can do to make it change its mind. She

leaned against him, against the comfort of his big body and they sat

silently until suddenly Candy pulled away from him and smiled her gay

brittle smile. And now tell me about you. Are you happy? Was that

your son with Katrina? He's a lovely child With relief Sean followed

her away from the memory Of Duff. They talked about each other, filling