“Jolly good,” Graffham said. “Do you know why I come to each and every week-end school here, Councillor Lampton? The Warden serves beer. And he always ends the meeting an hour before closing time . . .”

He started to talk about the merits of beer in warm weather; as we walked down the long terrazzo floored passage to the Staff Room he proceeded to the subject of English licensing laws and then, smoothly enough, to the Warley Council’s plan for a new public baths. Norah said very little; and though he addressed all his remarks to me, I noticed that whenever I moved nearer to her he would interpose himself between us; at one point he actually took hold of my lapel.

“It’s as plain as a pikestaff,” he said. “And if you want to know how plain a pikestaff is, look at the walls of this monument to a pseudo-medievalism. Everyone in Warley wants the swimming baths—”

“There’s the river,” I said. “Not to mention the canal.”

“Dead dogs and currents and weeds,” he said. “Would you have your child bathe in the river or the canal?”

I pushed the thought of Barbara from my mind. More and more often lately the mere thought of a possible danger to her would make me almost physically sick with fear.

“We’re speaking beside the point,” I said. “The plans for the baths are being considered now.”

“Are they really,” he said.

“Norah can confirm that,” I said. I moved over to her. Sud­denly the poky little room with its oak panels half-covered with notices seemed once again a room in a private house rather than part of an institution.

“Aren’t we going to have the swimming baths, Norah?”

There was a pleasure that was nearly sexual in speaking her first name; and now that I was nearer to her I could smell more distinctly her lily-of-the-valley perfume.

“The Council’s discussing it,” she said. “That’s not the same thing as doing something about it.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “It’s gone as far as discussion of the site.”

“The Palace,” she said. “Yes, I can see it would be ideal. It’s central, you’ve got the shell of your main building, and it’s just an eyesore now anyway. But what if Amborough doesn’t want to sell?”

She seemed to know a lot about it. Amborough, the owner of the Palace cinema, didn’t in fact want to sell it to the Council.

“I’m not the whole Warley Council,” I said. “I can’t tell you what it will or won’t do. But if it’s decided that the Palace is the only possible site, then there are ways and means of acquiring it. But don’t quote me.”

Graffham snickered. “You’re being very cautious, Councillor Lampton. You mean compulsory purchase?”