A Period of Adjustment by Dirk Bogarde

Or Me”, out of the way, I’ll move over to the house and just sit it out, with or without a telephone. We’ll go over to Jericho now, poke about, see what’s happening to the garden. I’ve not had any time since the sad discovery of my little brother. And now that is all put behind me I can worry about, well, invasive mint and seeding poppies.’
    As we drove over to Jericho through the lanes in the lateafternoon, the air was sweet, the sunlight glinted and flashed on the new green of the vines, and threw deep purple shadows across the red earth ploughed and cleaned of the old winter weeds. Giles was leaning out of the window, his hair ruffling in the breeze. He was singing something under his breath.
    I said, ‘Look. I’m sorry about not remembering your birthday. Didn’t even know you had one so soon.’
    â€˜It’s all right. I don’t mind. You know now. I’ll be ten. Wow!’
    â€˜I know now. What about a birthday supper? A special event for being ten?’
    â€˜With wine?’ He was instantly interested.
    I nodded. ‘With a modest amount of watered wine. Yes.’
    â€˜But who would come? We don’t know anyone.’
    â€˜Dottie and Arthur? Why not? Madame Prideaux and Florence. What about that?’
    He considered the list for a minute, squashing a bright green insect on the windscreen with his index finger. ‘All right. They are all a bit old, but all right.’
    â€˜I can ask them. Eugène would cook anything you really longed to have to eat, providing it’s in season. How about that?’
    He nodded, folded his arms across his chest, leant back in his seat. ‘Supposing Mum is still here. At Valbonne? She might remember it’s my birthday. She always did. What then?’
    â€˜Yes, indeed. What then. We might, of course, be asked over to Valbonne, to Eric Thingamigig’s house. I gather he’s got a fab pool … so she said.’
    There was a long silence. I did not break it, just let what I had said sink in. His voice was anxious. ‘Do you think they’ll still be here? In a month’s time? Where is Valbonne?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Not very far. It’s a sort of smart village. Full of foreigners. He has the place there. “Villa Dafydd”.Very typical. When, if, she telephones, I’ll find out all their plans.’
    â€˜But you won’t say about my birthday, will you?’
    â€˜No. I won’t say. If you don’t want me to, I won’t.’
    â€˜Because if she asked me to go, I wouldn’t. So don’t say. Please?’
    â€˜Fine. But any reason? Why wouldn’t you go? A fab swimming-pool?’
    â€˜I don’t like Eric Rhys-Evans. I don’t want to go to his house.’
    â€˜Reason. You haven’t said why. If I’m to make your excuses, if it should happen, I have to have a reason in my mind. Something. Not just because you don’t like him.’
    I had to slow down, turn right at the sign for Saint-Basile. 3 km.
    â€˜At home, when he came to stay, he took the key from the bathroom door so you couldn’t lock it.’
    â€˜What on earth for?’
    â€˜Well, he said what if I was ill or something, they couldn’t get in to help me. If I had a fit or something.’
    â€˜A fit! You?’
    â€˜He said. Sometimes he came in. When I was in the bath. He came in …’ He was scratching his arm, looking away from me so that I could hardly hear him.
    â€˜Well? So what? Perhaps he wanted something, shampoo or something.’ It was a pretty lame remark.
    Giles knew it too. He barked a kind of laugh and then looked directly ahead, avoiding me. Suddenly he said, ‘He was staring at me. Quite cross. He said, “What are you hiding there?” ’
    â€˜Hiding? Were you hiding something? Come on, what?’
    â€˜No. My facecloth. I put it over … over me, when he came in. Then he said, “You