A Man Could Stand Up - Ford Madox Ford [1]
'I haven't,' Valentine Wannop shouted into the mouthpiece, 'the least idea of what you want or who you are.'
She got back a title...Lady someone or other...It might have been Blastus. She imagined that one of the lady governoresses of the school must be wanting to order something in the way of school sports organized to celebrate the auspicious day. A lady governoress or other was always wanting something done by the School to celebrate something. No doubt the Head who was not wanting in a sense of humour--not absolutely wanting!--had turned this lady of title on to Valentine Wannop after having listened with patience to her for half an hour. The Head had certainly sent out to where in the playground they had all stood breathless, to tell Valentine Wannop that there was someone on the telephone that she--Miss Wanostrocht, the said Head--thought that she, Miss Wannop, ought to listen to...Then Miss Wanostrocht must have been able to distinguish what had been said by the now indistinguishable lady of title. But of course that had been ten minutes ago...Before the maroons or the sirens, whichever it had been, had sounded...'The porter said he had no furniture at all...He did not appear to recognize the porter...Ought presumably to be under control!...Valentine's mind thus recapitulated the information that she had from Lady (provisionally) Blastus. She imagined now that the Lady must be concerned for the superannuated drill-sergeant the school had had before it had acquired her, Valentine, as physical instructor. She figured to herself the venerable, mumbling gentleman, with several ribbons on a black commissionaire's tunic. In an almshouse, probably. Placed there by the Governors of the school. Had pawned his furniture, no doubt...
Intense heat possessed Valentine Wannop. She imagined indeed her eyes flashing. Was this the moment?
She didn't even know whether what they had let off had been maroons or aircraft guns or sirens. It had happened--the noise, whatever it was--whilst she had been coming through the underground passage from the playground to the schoolroom to answer this wicked telephone. So she had not heard the sound. She had missed the sound for which the ears of a world had waited for years, for a generation. For an eternity. No sound. When she had left the playground there had been dead silence. All waiting: girls rubbing one ankle with the other rubber sole...
Then...For the rest of her life she was never able to remember the greatest stab of joy that had ever been known by waiting millions. There would be no one but she who would not be able to remember that...Probably a stirring of the heart that was like a stab; probably a catching of the breath that was like an inhalation of flame!...It was over now; they were by now in a situation; a condition, something that would affect certain things in certain ways...
She remembered that the putative ex-drill-sergeant had a brother who had pneumonia and thus an unavailable mistress...
She was about to say to herself:
'That's just my luck!' when she remembered good-humouredly that her luck was not like that at all. On the whole she had had good luck--ups and downs. A good deal of anxiety at one time--but who hadn't had! But good health; a mother with good health; a brother safe...Anxieties, yes! But nothing that had gone so very wrong...
This then was an exceptional stroke of bad luck I Might it be no omen--to the effect that things in future would go wrong: to the effect that she would miss other universal experiences. Never marry, say; or never know the joy of childbearing: if it was a joy! Perhaps it was; perhaps it wasn't. One said one thing, one another. At any rate might it not be an omen that she would miss some universal and necessary experience!...Never see Carcassonne, the French said...Perhaps she would never see the Mediterranean. You could not be a proper man if you had never seen the Mediterranean: the sea of Tibullus, of the Anthologists, of Sappho, even...Blue: incredibly