The Quality of Mercy - By Barry Unsworth Page 0,136

the best of his knowledge. Together the two men made their way there.

The roof was low, there was just room enough to stand upright, and both men were tall. Less accustomed than the other to physical restriction, Kemp felt the oppression of this, inclining him to fear collision, duck his head. But there was a narrow wooden bench against one wall and they sat on this, no more than a yard apart, only able to look each other in the face by a deliberate turning to the side, which Kemp felt at first to be something of a snag, as it would allow the young man to face away from him, find relief from the stresses of doubt and temptation that he was sure the offer of money would cause. But in the event Bordon proved in no way reluctant to meet his gaze, even eager and ready to do so, with the same open and lively regard he had shown earlier.

“I have come to make you an offer for the piece of land you have acquired in the Dene,” Kemp said. “I am ready to pay you two hundred and fifty pounds for it.”

“That is much more than the land is worth, takin’ it by the acre. Tha must have good reason for wantin’ it.”

The frankness and immediacy of this took Kemp by surprise. There had not been much room for sporting activities in his life, and he could not know that this swiftness of response was in the nature of taking the ball on a rising bounce, nor that this shed, so carefully chosen as neutral ground, would turn out to be a meeting place of considerable disadvantage to him.

“Two hundred and fifty pounds is a lot of money,” he said. “I wonder if you realize how much. It is easily enough to establish you in some independent business on your own, or if you thought of investing it I could arrange through my bank for you to realize a good return on the money. Two hundred and fifty pounds, invested wisely, could bring you seven shillings a week. When you marry and start a family, that would be a great resource to you, coming in addition to your wages.”

“There must be more to it than that. Tha canna be only wantin’ to do me a favor.”

“The Dene is a place of great natural beauty,” Kemp said. Things were not going as he had expected. The offer of money had brought no change in the young man’s face or manner. “It should be kept as a whole, not divided up into smallholdings. All the character would be gone.”

Michael looked for some moments in silence at the stranger sitting so close to him, who had been a guest of Lord Spenton’s, who had been seen riding round the place, asking questions, looking at everything. Since he had first started playing handball, eight years ago now, he had waited quite often in this shed with the one who was shortly to be his opponent on the court, and some strain of antagonism had developed in these moments of waiting, a period of mutual assessment, of firm intention to win, to prevail. He recognized the feeling now, it was the same; they had come to the shed to meet as opponents, one to win and one to lose.

“Tha’s off’rin’ me two hunnerd an’ fifty pound so the Dene can keep its character?” he said.

“Well, there is more to it than that. I have learned that you bought the land out of care for your father. I was sorry indeed to hear of the accident that befell him, you have my deepest condolences. Obviously, he cannot now fulfill the ambition of making a garden there. Not to be able to make him this gift must have been a great blow to you and aggravated the loss, and this consideration has influenced me in making the offer, which I feel to be not excessive at all but just and appropriate under the circumstances.”

“How does tha know so much? Tha must be him that wants to make the road through. He said there was someone.”

“Who was it said that?”

“The notary, Mr. Bathgate, when he came to make out the deed of sale.”

“I see, yes.” He had been too high-handed with Bathgate. He had realized it at the time, but too late; aided by enmity and no doubt by native shrewdness, the rogue had sniffed him out. “I had formed such an idea, yes,” he