children were saved that day. A man glances up from his newspaper, sees what’s going on, acts on what he sees. Accident. A more interesting news story, a thicker coat of dirt on the bus window, a disinclination to intervene, and it might have ended differently.
In tragedy, perhaps. It might have. He didn’t know. It was his good fortune not to know.
Had he known at the time that what he was doing was wrong? Yes, undoubtedly. His parents had been easy, tolerant, in many ways, but in all essential matters the moral teaching had been firm and clear. Cruelty to animals, deliberate unkindness, bullying smaller children: these were major crimes. What interested him was how little sense of responsibility he felt now. If somebody had asked him about that afternoon, he’d have said something like, ‘Kids can be very cruel.’ Not, ‘I was very cruel.’ ‘Kids can be very cruel.’ He knew he’d done it, he remembered it clearly, he’d known then, and accepted now, that it was wrong, but the sense of moral responsibility was missing. In spite of the connecting thread of memory, the person who’d done that was not sufficiently like his present self for him to feel guilt.
It was something to be borne in mind, he thought, strolling back to his car, in talking to Danny.
SIX
He was watching the Channel 4 news when the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole, he saw Danny, trapped in the distorting glass, like a fish in a bowl. ‘Hello, you’re early,’ Tom said, holding the door open.
Danny stepped across the threshold, his shadow, thrown by the porch light, leaping ahead of him as if it already knew the way. ‘I didn’t know how long it would take.’
‘Never mind. Come in.’
Tom took Danny’s coat and hung it up.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘What are you having?’
‘Whisky.’
‘That’ll do fine.’
Tom was remembering the other room, the one in which they’d first met. The shock of seeing the small boy walk in beside the warder. Now he was experiencing a similar shock. Danny’s height, the depth of his voice, the hunched power of his shoulders, the stillness – all these perfectly ordinary characteristics seemed bizarre, so powerfully did Tom sense the presence of that child, immured inside the man.
What was back, without effort, without his wanting it even, was the intimacy of that first meeting.
‘Well, how have you been?’ he asked, settling into an armchair.
‘Since I left hospital? Tired. I went to bed and slept for ten hours. Woke up, didn’t know where I was.’
Not an easy situation, this, Tom thought. You could hardly pretend it was a social call, and yet it wasn’t a consultation either. He was going to have to feel his way forward. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
A shrug, bringing memories of their first meeting flooding back. ‘Don’t mind.’
‘Quite a decision at your age. How old are you?’ ‘
You know how old I am.’ A pause. ‘Twenty-three.’
‘So what went wrong? After you came out?’
A faint smile. ‘I met a girl. I was living with a Quaker couple at the time, and they’re very nice but also quite elderly and a bit strait-laced, and I decided I’d rather live with the girl. It wasn’t a great big thing.’ He dropped his voice into the bass register. ‘We are now committing ourselves to each other. We were students, students live together. But Mike – the probation officer I had then – told me I had to tell her, and if I didn’t tell her, he’d tell her. So of course I broke it off. I didn’t dare risk it.’
‘Did she mean a lot to you?’
Danny pursed his lips. ‘Dunno. She was nice. Is nice. I don’t suppose it was… You know, some of it was just me proving I could do it with a girl. I mean the bulk of my experience… Uh, the bulk, he says. 99.9 per cent of my experience has been the other sort.’ A gulp of whisky. ‘Not all of it voluntary. It’s the one thing –’
‘No, go on.’
‘I was going to say it’s the one
In tragedy, perhaps. It might have. He didn’t know. It was his good fortune not to know.
Had he known at the time that what he was doing was wrong? Yes, undoubtedly. His parents had been easy, tolerant, in many ways, but in all essential matters the moral teaching had been firm and clear. Cruelty to animals, deliberate unkindness, bullying smaller children: these were major crimes. What interested him was how little sense of responsibility he felt now. If somebody had asked him about that afternoon, he’d have said something like, ‘Kids can be very cruel.’ Not, ‘I was very cruel.’ ‘Kids can be very cruel.’ He knew he’d done it, he remembered it clearly, he’d known then, and accepted now, that it was wrong, but the sense of moral responsibility was missing. In spite of the connecting thread of memory, the person who’d done that was not sufficiently like his present self for him to feel guilt.
It was something to be borne in mind, he thought, strolling back to his car, in talking to Danny.
SIX
He was watching the Channel 4 news when the doorbell rang. Looking through the peephole, he saw Danny, trapped in the distorting glass, like a fish in a bowl. ‘Hello, you’re early,’ Tom said, holding the door open.
Danny stepped across the threshold, his shadow, thrown by the porch light, leaping ahead of him as if it already knew the way. ‘I didn’t know how long it would take.’
‘Never mind. Come in.’
Tom took Danny’s coat and hung it up.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘What are you having?’
‘Whisky.’
‘That’ll do fine.’
Tom was remembering the other room, the one in which they’d first met. The shock of seeing the small boy walk in beside the warder. Now he was experiencing a similar shock. Danny’s height, the depth of his voice, the hunched power of his shoulders, the stillness – all these perfectly ordinary characteristics seemed bizarre, so powerfully did Tom sense the presence of that child, immured inside the man.
What was back, without effort, without his wanting it even, was the intimacy of that first meeting.
‘Well, how have you been?’ he asked, settling into an armchair.
‘Since I left hospital? Tired. I went to bed and slept for ten hours. Woke up, didn’t know where I was.’
Not an easy situation, this, Tom thought. You could hardly pretend it was a social call, and yet it wasn’t a consultation either. He was going to have to feel his way forward. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
A shrug, bringing memories of their first meeting flooding back. ‘Don’t mind.’
‘Quite a decision at your age. How old are you?’ ‘
You know how old I am.’ A pause. ‘Twenty-three.’
‘So what went wrong? After you came out?’
A faint smile. ‘I met a girl. I was living with a Quaker couple at the time, and they’re very nice but also quite elderly and a bit strait-laced, and I decided I’d rather live with the girl. It wasn’t a great big thing.’ He dropped his voice into the bass register. ‘We are now committing ourselves to each other. We were students, students live together. But Mike – the probation officer I had then – told me I had to tell her, and if I didn’t tell her, he’d tell her. So of course I broke it off. I didn’t dare risk it.’
‘Did she mean a lot to you?’
Danny pursed his lips. ‘Dunno. She was nice. Is nice. I don’t suppose it was… You know, some of it was just me proving I could do it with a girl. I mean the bulk of my experience… Uh, the bulk, he says. 99.9 per cent of my experience has been the other sort.’ A gulp of whisky. ‘Not all of it voluntary. It’s the one thing –’
‘No, go on.’
‘I was going to say it’s the one
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