I waited for about ten minutes, trying to calm and clear my mind, and then went back to the bedroom door. I did not really expect that Priscilla would have got dressed and be ready to leave. I did not know what to do. I felt fear and disgust at the idea of «mental breakdown,» the semi-deliberate refusal to go on organizing one's life which is regarded with such tolerance in these days. I peered into the room. Priscilla was lying in a sort of abandoned attitude on her side, having half kicked off the bedclothes. Her mouth was wet and wide open. A plump stockinged leg stuck rather awkwardly out of the bed, surmounted by yellowish suspenders and a piece of mottled thigh. The graceless awkwardness of the position suggested a dummy which had fallen over. She said in a heavy slightly whimpering voice, «I've just eaten all my sleeping pills.»

«What! Priscilla! No!»

«I've eaten them.» She was holding an empty bottle in her hand.

«You're not serious! How many?»

I picked it up. The label meant nothing to me. I made a sort of dart at Priscilla, trying stupidly to pull the bedclothes up over her, but one of her legs was on top of them. I ran out of the room.

In the hall I ran to and fro, starting off back to the bedroom, then running towards the flat door, then back to the telephone. As I reached the telephone it began to ring, and I picked it up.

There were the rapid pips of the «pay tone,» and then a click-Arnold's voice said, «Bradley, Rachel and I are just in town for lunch, we're just round the corner and we wondered if we could persuade you to join us. Darling, would you like to talk to Bradley?»

Rachel's voice said, «Bradley, my dear, we both felt-I said, «Priscilla's just eaten all her sleeping pills.»

«What? Who?»

«Priscilla. My sister, just taken bottle sleeping pills-I-get hospital-«

«What's that, Bradley? I can't hear. Bradley, don't ring off, we-«Priscilla's taken her sleeping-Sorry, I must ring-get doctor-sorry, sorry-I jammed the phone down, then lifted it again and could still hear Rachel's voice saying, «anything we can do-« I banged it back, ran to the bedroom door, ran back again, lifted the phone, put it down, began to pull the telephone books out of the shelves where they live inside a converted mahogany commode. The telephone books slewed all over the floor. The front doorbell rang.

I ran to the door and opened it. It was Francis Marloe.

I said, «Thank God you've come, my sister has just eaten a bottle full of sleeping pills.»

«Where's the bottle?» said Francis. «How many were in it?»

«God, how do I know-The bottle-God, I had it in my hand a moment ago-Christ, where is it?»

«When did she take them?»

«Just now.»

«Have you telephoned a hospital?»

«No, I-«

«Where is she?»

«Oh Christ, where is the bloody bottle-I had it in my hand-The doorbell rang again. I opened it. Arnold, Rachel and Julian were standing outside the door. They were neat and smartly dressed, Julian in a sort of flowered smock looking about twelve. They appeared like a family advertising corn flakes or insurance, except that Rachel had a bruise under one eye.

«Bradley, can we-«Help me find the bottle, I had the bottle she took, I put it down somewhere-A cry came out of the bedroom. Francis called, «Brad, could-Rachel said, «Let me.» She went into the bedroom.

«I must telephone the hospital,» I said.

«What's this about a bottle?» said Arnold.

«I can't read the blasted telephone number. Can you read the number?»

«I always said you needed glasses.»

Rachel ran out of the bedroom into the kitchen. I could hear Priscilla's voice saying, «Leave me alone, leave me alone.»

«Arnold, could you telephone the hospital and I'll look for the-I must have taken it into the-I ran into the sitting-room and was surprised to see a girl there. I got an impression of freshly laundered dress, freshly laundered girl, girl on a visit. She was examining the little bronzes in the lacquered display cabinet. She stopped doing this and watched me with polite curiosity while I started hurling cushions about. «What are you looking for, Bradley?»

«Bottle. Sleeping pills. See what kind.»

Arnold was telephoning.

Francis called out. I ran to the bedroom. Rachel was mopping the floor. There was a vile smell. Priscilla was sitting on the side of the bed sobbing. Her petticoat with pink daisies on it was hitched up round her waist, rather tight silken knickers cut into her thigh, making the mottled flesh bulge.

Francis, talking quickly, excitedly, said, «She was sick-I didn't really-it'll help-but a stomach pump-Julian said, «Is this it?» Without entering she thrust a hand round the door.

Francis took the bottle. «Oh that stuff-That's not-«Ambulance coming,» called Arnold.

«She can't do herself much harm with that. Need to take an awful lot. It makes one sick actually, that was why-«Priscilla, do stop crying. You'll be all right.»

«Leave me alone!»

«Keep her warm,» said Francis.

«Leave me alone, I hate you all.»

«She isn't herself,» I said.

«Get her into bed properly, snuggle down a bit,» said Francis.

«I'll make some tea,» said Rachel.

They retired and the door shut. I tried again to pull the bedclothes back, but Priscilla was sitting on them.

She jumped up, savagely pulled the blankets back, then crashed onto the bed. She pulled the clothes violently over her, hiding her head. I could hear her mumbling underneath, «Ashamed, oh ashamed-Showing me to all those people-I want to die, I want to die-« She began sobbing.

I sat down beside her and looked at my watch. It was after twelve. No one had thought to pull the curtains back and the room was still twilit. There was a horrible smell. I patted the heaving mass of blankets. Only a little of her hair was visible, with a dirty line of grey at the roots of the gold. Her hair was dry and brittle, more like some synthetic fibre than like human hair. I felt disgust and helpless pity and a prowling desire to vomit. I sat for a time patting her with the awkward ineffectual gesture of a small child trying to pat an animal. I could not make out what forms I was touching. I wondered if I should firmly pull off the covers and take her hand, but when I plucked at the blankets she burrowed deeper and even her hair disappeared.

Rachel called, «The ambulance has come.»

I said to Francis, «Could you deal with this?» I went out into the hall, past where Francis was talking to the ambulance men, and went into the sitting-room.

Julian, looking like one of my pieces of china, was back in her place by the display cabinet. Rachel was lying sprawled in an armchair with a rather odd smile on her face. Rachel said, «She'll be all right?»

«Yes.»

Julian said, «Bradley, I wonder if I could buy this off you?»

«What?»

«This little thing. I wonder if I could buy it? Would you sell it to me?»

Rachel said, «Julian, don't be so tiresome.»

Julian was holding in her hand one of the little Chinese bronzes, a piece which I had had for many years. A water buffalo with lowered head and exquisitely wrinkled neck bears upon his back an aristocratic lady of delicate loveliness with a many-folded dress and high elaborate hair.

«I wonder if-?»

Rachel said, «Julian, you can't ask people to sell you their belongings!»

«Keep it, keep it,» I said.

«Bradley, you mustn't let her-«No, I'll buy it-«

«Of course you can't buy it! Keep it!» I sat down. «Where's Arnold?»

«Oh thank you! Why, here's a letter addressed to Dad, and one for me. May I take them?»

«Yes, yes. Where's Arnold?»

«He's gone to the pub,» said Rachel, smiling a little more broadly.

«She felt it wasn't quite the moment,» said Julian.

«Who felt?»

«He's gone to the pub with Christian.»