The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [27]
Their progress up the street was now considerably impeded by a herd of cows (“How delightful, how typical!” thought the Major) which strayed not only over the road but on to the rudimentary pavement as well. Presently a motor car came up behind them with the driver sounding his horn, which did very little good since cows are inclined to panic; one of them almost charged straight back into the motor’s radiator but was diverted at the last moment by a lad in a ragged overcoat who was herding the animals with a stick. Sitting beside the driver the Major recognized the burly figure of old Dr Ryan wrapped in a trench coat and numerous mufflers though the day was mild. He saw them and waved, telling the driver to pull in to the kerb to give the cattle time to move on. When they came level with him he said sternly: “Always in that chair, Sarah. You should be walking. You never do as you’re told.”
“Yes, yes, I know. You’re always telling me,” Sarah replied petulantly and glanced helplessly at the Major.
“You know, I think you like being in that chair.”
“Oh you know everything, Doctor!” Sarah retorted, and for an instant the Major glimpsed a bitter, sly expression on her face.
“Don’t be impertinent,” Dr Ryan said sharply. “And let me see you get out of that chair and walk over to me. Take hold of your young man’s arm.”
Sarah made a face and for a moment remained seated.
“Come on, we can’t wait all day,” snapped the doctor.
Looking confused and miserable, Sarah pulled herself up and, leaning heavily on the Major’s arm and one of her sticks, she began to move forward. He was immediately surprised by how well she could walk. She was unsteady, it was true, but her legs seemed firm and strong. Dr Ryan, his aged head looking small and infirm on top of his great pile of cloth-ing, watched as she reached the car and started back to her chair, her slender fingers gripping the Major’s forearm with a strength which surprised him.
“If you weren’t so spoiled you’d be out of that chair the whole time. You could walk perfectly well if you took the trouble. And as for you, Major, perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell Edward Spencer from me to stop aggravating his tenants or there’ll be trouble.” With that the doctor waved to his chauffeur to drive on.
“What a dreadful old man,” the Major said. “He’s as sour as vinegar.”
Sarah had changed her mind and no longer wanted to go to Finnegan’s Drapery. She wanted to be taken home, off this hateful street; it wasn’t far, the Major needn’t worry, she wouldn’t detain him long even though he obviously thought her company intolerable and was dying to get away...
“But I don’t think anything of the kind,” protested the Major, amazed. “Wherever did you get that idea?”
Ah, it was as plain as anything from the way he kept looking round him all the time, particularly when a pretty girl (one with two sound legs) passed by, dragging her skirts so prettily through the cowpats. The Major, with his “ram-rod posture,” obviously had far better things he could be doing and, besides, he must be simply dying to get back to his dear Angela by now and, in any case, he had been in a great old hurry off somewhere when they had first bumped into each other...
“That’s true. I was going to make some inquiries at the railway station. I’d forgotten completely.”
“What? Are you leaving Kilnalough so soon? Have you and Angela had a quarrel?”
“Not only have we not had a quarrel; we haven’t even spoken to each other—at least, privately. There was never really an understanding between us, you know—at least, I don’t think there was; nothing serious—except that we wrote to each other regularly, of course.”
“I didn’t know that. In fact, I thought...but