Books Do Furnish a Room - Anthony Powell [36]
‘Give me your handkerchief.’
She put it in her bag, and shook her hair.
‘Come on.’
‘You wouldn’t like to go back just for a moment?’
‘Of course not.’
Her firmness was granite. Just as we were proceeding on towards the outside door, the rest of the party, Widmerpool, Alfred Tolland, Quiggin, Craggs, Gypsy, appeared at the far end of the corridor. Hugo was seeing them out. Widmerpool was at the head, explaining some apparently complicated matter to Hugo, so that he did not notice Pamela and myself until a yard or two away.
‘Ah, there you are, dear. I thought you’d have reached the car by now. I expect you are better, and Nicholas has been pointing out the objets d’art to you. It’s the kind of thing he knows about. Rather fine some of the pieces look to me.’
He paused and pointed.
‘What are those great vases, for example? Chinese? Japanese? I am woefully ignorant of such matters. I intend to visit Japan when opportunity occurs, see what sort of a job the Americans are doing there. I doubted the wisdom of retaining the Emperor. Feudalism must go whenever and wherever it survives. We must also keep an eye on Uncle Sam’s mailed fist – but I am running away with myself. Pam, you must go carefully on the journey home. Rest is what you need.’
She did not utter a word but, turning from them, walked quickly towards the door. Morally speaking, some sort of warning seemed required that all had not been well, yet any such announcement was hard to phrase. Before anything could be said – if, indeed, there were anything apposite to say – Hugo had gently encouraged the group to move on.
‘I think a revised seating arrangement might be advisable on the way back to the station,’ said Widmerpool.
‘I’m going in front,’ said Pamela.
The rest were contained somehow at the back. Alfred Tolland looked like a man being put to the torture for conscience sake, but determined to bear the torment with fortitude. Pamela lay back beside the driver with closed eyes. The taxi moved away slowly towards the arch, hooted, disappeared from sight. No one waved or looked back. Hugo and I re-entered the house. I told him what had happened in the passage.
‘In one of the big Chinese pots?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t mean literally?’
‘Quite literally.’
‘Couldn’t you stop her?’
‘Where was there better?’
‘You mean otherwise it would have been the floor?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Does that mean she’s going to have a baby?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘It’s the only excuse.’
‘I think it was just rage.’
‘Nothing whatever was said?’
‘Not a word.’
‘You just looked on?’
‘What was there to say? It wasn’t my business, if she didn’t want the others to sympathize with her.’
Hugo laughed. He thought for a moment.
‘I believe if I were given to falling for women, I’d fall for her.’
‘Meanwhile, how is the immediate problem to be dealt with?’
‘We’ll consult Blanche.’
The news of Pamela’s conduct was received at the beginning with incredulity, the first reaction, that Hugo and I were projecting a bad-taste joke. When the crude truth was grasped, Roddy Cutts was shocked, Frederica furious, Norah sent into fits of hysterical laughter. Jeavons only shook his head.
‘Knew she was a wrong ’un from the start,’ he said. ‘Look at the way she behaved to that poor devil Templer. You know I often think of that chap. I liked having him in the house, and listening to all those stories about girls. Kept your mind off the blitz. Turned out we’d met before in that night-club of Umfraville’s, though I couldn’t remember