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.He had a boy called Tommy working with him, a gangly, jug-eared lad of about fifteen or so, Philip guessed, with a habit of coughing slightly before he said anything.For all his effusive ‘Yes, madam’s and ‘Of course, madam’s, Philip could tell from his bearing that Benson was a man for whom servility did not come naturally.He noticed that the ingratiating smile left Benson’s lips the instant his mother’s back was turned, and saw the quick roll of the eyes at his mother’s more outlandish requests.While the work was going on, Philip was forced to sleep in a guest room that his mother had already decorated in a particularly gross and feminine fashion, with not a surface left free of ornamention of some sort or another.He could not move for ceramic vases and peacock feathers, and so had a special interest in seeing that his attic room was completed with the utmost haste.As soon as he was washed and dressed and breakfasted, Philip would go and stand in the doorway, checking on the workmen’s progress as they stripped the wallpaper from the walls and began to repair and redecorate.His first visits had been greeted by warm hellos from man and boy, and with hair ruffles and winks from Benson.But with each successive visit, the greetings had become less and less enthusiastic, until a kind of stand-off had occurred, with Philip making his impatience and disappointment in their slow progress quite as obvious as Benson’s resentment of being watched over.Benson tried to intimidate Philip into leaving them alone, but Philip was not easily intimidated.Every now and then, Benson would give Philip a look that made it clear that he would have liked to cuff the boy round the ear and send him sprawling, just as Philip had seen him do once with the gormless Tommy.But still Philip kept his vigil at the doorway.He was keenly aware that there was little the man could do or complain about, as Philip always took great pains never to actually get in their way.g‘For the love of –’ said Tommy one bright morning, the sun sending a golden beam through the dormer window and lighting up a strip of the bare floorboards.‘What’s up, Tommy?’ said Benson.‘It’s this crack here, Mr Benson,’ said Tommy despairingly.‘I’ve tried everything to fill it but it just won’t stick.Every time I fills it, it just pops out and falls on the floor.I don’t know what to try next.’‘Don’t get yourself all het up about it, Tommy,’ said Benson, giving the boy a kindly pat on the shoulder.‘Leave it with me.You’re probably making your filler a bit too wet.Or too dry.Who knows? I’ll sort it out.There’s plenty of other stuff to be getting on with.’Philip watched from the doorway.Benson saw him and gave him a wink.He’s in a good mood today, thought Philip.Benson set about mixing up some filler on a small palette, whistling a jaunty tune as he did so; then he began to fill the crack.Philip stepped forward to have a better look.‘There now,’ said Benson.‘That ain’t so bad now, is it, young master?’‘Will it fall off like before?’ asked Philip.‘Fall off?’ said Benson with a sniff.‘I think I knows how to fill a bit of cracked plaster after thirty-odd years doing it.’‘Sorry,’ said Philip, sensing he had offended the man.‘That’s all right,’ he said.‘I takes a lot of pride in what I do.’Philip nodded.‘It’s too easy just to slap things up like they do today.You see them old churches and big houses and such.Just you look at the craftsmanship there.You don’t get that these days, I’ll tell you straight.These youngsters ain’t got the patience.’‘Like Tommy, you mean,’ said Philip.Benson frowned and squinted at him.‘Tommy’s all right,’ said Benson.‘I ain’t saying nothing about Tommy.He tries his best.He’s had a hard life too, though you never hears him complain.’Again, Philip could tell he had caused offence, though he was not altogether sure why.‘Sorry,’ he said again.‘You’re a right one for the sorrys, ain’t you,’ said Benson, his eyes cold despite the smile.gWhen Philip returned after lunch and peeped round the doorway he saw that Benson’s cheerful mood had evaporated.He was down on his haunches.The crack was back.‘I don’t believe it,’ said Benson, picking up one of the larger pieces of filler lying on the floor.‘That’s just the same as what happened to me,’ said Tommy
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