Casanova's Chinese Restaurant - Anthony Powell [41]
‘Write to me, Mr Clarke, or telephone,’ said Lady Warminster, ‘whenever you think I can be of help. Should my health not allow me to see you at that moment, we will arrange something later.’
I had by then seen too much of Lady Warminster and her stepchildren to be surprised by the calm with which news of this sort was accepted. My own temper was in sympathy with such an attitude of mind. I looked forward to hearing Quiggin’s account of the current Erridge situation. Possibly Quiggin himself might decide to go to Spain. Such a move was not to be ruled out. No doubt he too intended to keep an eye on Erridge’s affairs; the best way to do that might be to attach himself to Erridge’s person. The development of St John Clarke as a close friend of Erridge must be very unsympathetic to Quiggin. St John Clarke’s appeal to Lady Warminster was unexpected. He had managed to get most of it said without attracting much attention from the rest of the party, who were discussing their own affairs, but the general drift of his muttered words probably caused the turn conversation took when it became general once more.
‘Do you hold any view on what the outcome in Spain will be, Mr Clarke?’ asked George.
St John Clarke made a gesture with his fingers to be interpreted as a much watered-down version of the Popular Front’s clenched fist. Now that he had had his word with Lady Warminster about Erridge, he seemed more cheerful, although I was again struck by the worn, unhealthy texture of his skin. He still possessed plenty of nervous energy, but had lost his earlier flush. His cheeks were grey and pasty in tone. He looked a sick man.
‘Franco cannot win,’ he said.
‘What about the Germans and Italians?’ said George. ‘It doesn’t look as if non-intervention will work. It has been a failure from the start.’
‘In that case,’ said St John Clarke, evidently glad to find an opportunity to pronounce this sentence, ‘can you blame Caballero for looking elsewhere for assistance.’
‘Russia?’
‘In support of Spain’s elected government.’
‘Personally, I am inclined to think Franco will win,’ said George.
‘Is that to your taste?’ asked St John Clarke mildly.
‘Not particularly,’ George said. ‘Especially if that has got to include Hitler and Mussolini. But then Russia isn’t to my taste either. It is hard to feel much enthusiasm for the way the Government side go on, or, for that matter, the way they were going before the war broke out.’
‘People like myself look forward to a social revolution in a country that has remained feudal far too long,’ said St John Clarke, speaking now almost benignly, as if the war in Spain was being carried on just to please him personally, and he himself could not help being flattered by the fact. ‘We cannot always be living in the past.’
This expressed preference for upheaval for its own sake roused Roddy Cutts. He began to move forward his knives and forks so that they made a pattern on the table, evidently a preliminary to some sort of a speech. St John Clarke was about to expand his view on revolution, when Roddy cut him short in measured, moderate, parliamentary tones.
‘The question is,’ Roddy said, ‘whether the breakdown of the internal administration of Spain – and nobody seriously denies the existence of a breakdown – justified a military coup d’état. Some people think it did, others disagree entirely. My own view is that we should not put ourselves in the position of seeming to encourage a political adventurer of admittedly Fascist stamp, while at the same time expressing in no uncertain terms our complete lack of sympathy for any party or parties which allow the country’s rapid disintegration into a state