The Harness Room by L. P. Hartley

Author:L. P. Hartley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2022-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X

The idyll in the harness room went on.

Fergus solaced his loneliness with the knowledge that he could go there when he wanted to, for Fred was always available, except on the occasional evenings when he took out Olive and Gladys, ‘to keep them sweet’.

Fred was conscientious in his way and insisted that these visits should be accompanied by some form of P. T., especially as he enjoyed it at least as much as Fergus did. They did exercises together, and the sparring-­bouts, with their air of implacable hostility, half-­closed eyes looking murderously into each other’s, gave Fergus a sense of release which no other form of activity had ever given him and which helped him, and Fred, to achieve the ascendancy which, half unconsciously, each had been gaining over the other.

At school, Fergus had often been cursed at games for his lack of proficiency; Fred always encouraged him or only criticized him in the mildest manner. Besides, it was re­­assuring to know that he could hit Fred as hard as he liked, within the prescribed bounds, without hurting him; and Fred could hit him back, within the prescribed bounds, without hurting him, for the target has no come-­back to the shooter.

Fergus didn’t know that Fred was sometimes tempted to tickle him up a bit, to awaken the fighting spirit which it was his father’s wish to foster; but when he saw Fergus’s eyes blink under a blow smarter than usual, he desisted. They always finished by touching hands, in true boxer-­fashion, and Fred would unlace Fergus’s gloves and give him a rub-­down, which was more extensive if he was so hot that he used Fred’s shower.

These mutual physical exchanges were the more agreeable and refreshing for Fergus, tired from the mental effort of struggling with the Bishops.

At other times they relaxed without the stimulus of physical exertion, and just sat and talked and whiled away the time, pleased with each other’s company, and a friendship sprang up between them which seemed to transcend the barriers of class, being based on affinity—at least so Fergus thought. Gradually and insensibly the formalities of intercourse were shed, and replaced by a kind of familiarity that does not breed contempt. A smile did instead of a salute; and a salute (for Fred still saluted Fergus sometimes) had a touch of complicity in it. And Fergus, who a few weeks back had not dared to approach within the radius of three yards of the car while Fred was cleaning or otherwise ministering to it—so fierce and absorbed was his expression, so possessive and stand-offish—would now go up and almost lean against the sacred object, talking the while as freely and interestedly as if Fergus was an adjunct of the car itself, which was the most that anyone could hope for.

Fred continued to take Gladys and Olive for occasional outings. There was no repetition, as far as Fergus knew, of the ‘fuse’ incident, which had necessitated Fred’s presence in Gladys’s bedroom. When such celebrations were afoot, the empty harness room had no appeal for Fergus.

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