The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [114]
“Or perhaps you think that there should be one law for them and one law for other people?” went on the Major aggressively.
“But, Brendan, a man was killed in cold blood.”
“That’s still no reason for going on the rampage.”
“A man was murdered. These people have to be taught a lesson.”
“By all means let the culprits be taught a lesson. And leave law-abiding people alone.”
“Ach, they’re all the same. They laugh behind their hands when one of our chaps is killed.”
“That’s not against the law. Burning people’s houses is.”
“But how can the police possibly be expected to find who’s guilty and who isn’t when they’re all in it together?” shouted Edward, losing his temper. “Dammit, man! Be reasonable.”
“If they don’t know who’s guilty they should find out before going berserk and punishing people at random the way they did at Balbriggan.”
“I don’t want to hear any more of this. If you don’t care about the poor fellow who was killed doing his duty, I do!” And with that Edward strode away, clenching and unclenching his fists furiously. After a few strides he paused and shouted back: “Are you disloyal, Major, or what?” Then he departed without waiting for a reply.
Edward muttered an apology later in the day for this last abusive question and the Major, who was ashamed of himself, murmured sadly that that was quite all right, he hadn’t taken it to heart. Later the Major wondered why he should feel ashamed of himself. After all, he genuinely believed in what he had said to Edward.
“If the R.I.C. take to behaving as badly as the Shinners,” he remarked to Miss Archer, “pretty soon the whole country will be in chaos and it’ll be every man for himself.”
Later again the painful image of Edward and Sarah walking together on the terrace came to his mind.
“She’s a Catholic and he’s old enough to be her father,” he told himself sourly.
“This is no place for a young man to spend his time, surrounded by a lot of old women,” Miss Archer said to the Major with a smile.
“Yes, perhaps I shall still go to Italy...Florence maybe, or Naples. But I hear that travelling abroad is becoming impossible. All the papers one needs...not like before the war when all you needed was a ticket. But you’re quite right, Sybil. I must make up my mind.”
And yes, the Major was seriously thinking of leaving Kilnalough. Now that relations were strained between himself and Edward there was even less reason to stay. He could go anywhere in the world. He no longer had any ties, either in London or elsewhere. Yet this was precisely the trouble. In all the aching void of the world where should he go? Why should he choose one place rather than another? For wherever he went, Sarah would not be. Sarah would remain behind in Kilnalough.
The Major still had hopes, although now somewhat insubstantial, of establishing once more the intimacy which had existed between them during Sarah’s brief visit to London the previous winter. He still sometimes, at his writing-desk or in bed with a book open on his chest, fell into a reverie for minutes on end, day-dreaming delightfully about Sarah in the Strand with her arm through his, asking him questions, Sarah in a restaurant not knowing which knife and fork to use, sad and sweet, page after page of an old photograph-album...with himself at her side, amused, paternal, indulgent, and a tiny bit world-weary. He still had hopes.
She often came to the Majestic in the afternoon. He did not know what to make of her relationship with Edward: it was not as if she took any trouble to be alone with him. She seemed to enjoy the Major’s company just as much. Of course, the wide-eyed Sarah whose excitement at finding herself in a strange city he had found so touching was a very different person from Sarah in Kilnalough where she was so sure of herself. She was sometimes impatient with him. Sometimes, it was true, she laughed at him as if she found him ridiculous (he was still nettled by the thought of the bunch of roses and the chocolates). She enjoyed teasing him but she