Concrete island

17 The duel

As Maitland approached the air-raid shelter Proctor and the young woman were cavorting about in the open air by the entrance. Proctor tottered to and fro, the half-empty wine bottle still clasped in his thick hand. His feet stumbled in and out of the lid of Maitland's overnight case – Jane had evidently removed it from the car when she searched for his wallet.

Proctor lurched away from Maitland as the tall man swung himself forward on the crutch. He had taken off his patchwork denims and forced his legs into Maitland's evening-dress trousers. The sweet scent of hash hung in the air. Smoke drifted from the leaking stub in Jane's mouth as she knelt at Proctor's feet, trying to turn up the trousers.

Proctor pushed back the sleeves of the di

'Right! You look a treat!' Jane stepped back to survey her handiwork, enjoying this drunken parody of a wine waiter. She turned a funless smile towards Maitland, swaying up to him.

'Don't look so serious, Mr Maitland. Come and join us – we're having a party.'

'So I see. Who's the guest of honour?'

Maitland swung himself forward, striking Proctor's unsteady feet with the metal crutch. Proctor staggered back, gri

'Come on!' she shouted to Maitland. 'Stop looking so long-faced. You can't enjoy yourself!' She slapped Proctor's head, only half-playfully. 'God, look at you both!'

Maitland waited calmly as they played the fool with him, the girl urging Proctor to pour the wine over him. Proctor staggered about in the burst di

'Come on, you're going to dance for me!' Jane shouted into Maitland's face. 'Do a one-legged dance! Proctor, make him dance for me!'

Proctor blundered into Maitland, eyes no longer synchronized. Jane bent down and rooted around in the overnight case.

'There's a letter here – from a woman doctor. Not a very professional relationship, I must say. Listen to this, Proctor…'

Maitland stepped forward, pushing Proctor away. The tramp's acid breath gusted into his face. Proctor fell back against the shelter in a spray of wine. He sat helplessly on the ground. As Jane started to up-end the case, Maitland lifted the crutch and drove it into the open lid, striking it from her hands. Startled, she crouched away angrily.

'What the hell are you-'

'Right!' Matter-of-factly, Maitland lifted the crutch and beckoned her from the case. She edged back along the ground, pointing to the recumbent Proctor.

'Wait till he wakes… Believe me, he'll-'

'He'll do nothing. Take my word for it.'

Maitland stepped towards Proctor. The tramp gazed up at him, embarrassed by his own drunke

As the urine struck his face, Proctor raised his scarred hands. He stared at the amber liquid splashing on to his palms and pouring down the lapels of his di

Maitland waited until he had finished. Proctor lay stranded on his side in the pool of urine, his eyes lowered. With one hand he tried to clean the di

Ignoring Proctor now, Maitland turned towards the young woman. She had watched the episode without moving. He pointed to the scattered contents of the overnight case.

'All right, Jane? Now, gather everything up.'

Without hesitating, she knelt down by the case. Quickly she replaced the dress-shoes and towel. Sober now, she stared calmly at Maitland.

'He won't forget that.'

'He wasn't intended to.' As she locked the case Maitland beckoned her towards the cinema. 'We'll go back to your room.'

When Jane stood her ground, sharp eyes searching Maitland's bearded face for any signs of fever, Maitland reached out and tried to cuff her across the head. She stepped back nimbly.

'I won't help you to get away from here.'

'Never mind. As a matter of fact, I don't particularly want to get away from here. Not for the moment, anyway,'

Without looking back at Proctor, lying passively in the pool of urine, he swung himself after the young woman. She walked in front of him, head down, carrying the overnight case.