Casanova's Chinese Restaurant - Anthony Powell [53]
‘What time will you be back?’ asked Maclintick.
‘Don’t know.’
‘I suppose someone will have to let you in.’
‘Suppose they will.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ burst out Mrs Maclintick. ‘I’ll let him in, you fool. What does it matter to you? You never open a door for anyone, not even your precious friends. It’s me that does all the drudgery in this house. You never do a hand’s turn, except sitting upstairs messing about with a lot of stuff that is really out of your reach – that you are not quite up to ‘
By this time everyone was standing up.
‘I think probably Nick and I ought to be going too,’ said Moreland, the extent of his own discomposure making him sound more formal than usual. ‘I’ve got to get up earlv tomorrow … go and see Madlda … one thing and another …’
He succeeded in suggesting no more than the fact that the Maclinticks’ house had become unbearable to him. Maclintick showed no sign of surprise at this sudden truncation of our visit, although he smiled to himself rather grimly.
‘Do you want to take the book about Chabrier?’ he asked. ‘Borrow it by all means if you would like to read the rest of it.’
‘Not at the moment, thanks,’ said Moreland. ‘I have got too much on hand.’
Carolo had already left the house by the time we reached the front door. Without bidding us farewell, Mrs Maclintick had retired in silence to the kitchen, where she could be heard clattering pots and pans and crockery. Maclintick stood on the doorstep biting his pipe.
‘Come again,’ he said, ‘if you can stand it. I’m not sure how long I shall be able to.’
‘It won’t be till after Matilda has given birth,’ Moreland said.
‘Oh, I forgot about that,’ said Maclintick. ‘You’re going to become a father. Well, good night to you both. Pleasant dreams.’
He shut the door. We set off up the street.
‘Let’s walk by the river for a bit to recover,’ Moreland said. ‘I’m sorry to have let you in for all that.’
‘Was it a representative Maclintick evening?’
‘Not one of their best. But they understand each other in an odd way. Of course, that is the sort of thing people say before murder takes place. Still, you grasp what I mean when I insist it is good for Maclintick to see friends occasionally. But what on earth can Carolo be doing there? Everyone must be pretty short of cash for Carolo to live with the Maclinticks as a lodger. I should not have thought either party would have chosen that. All the pubs are shut by now in this area, aren’t they?’
Cutting down to the Embankment, we walked for a time beside the moonlit, sparkling river, towards Vauxhall Bridge and along Millbank, past the Donners-Brebner Building dominating the far shore like a vast penitentiary, where I had called for Stringham one night years before, when he had been working there.
‘Married life is unquestionably difficult,’ Moreland said. ‘One may make a slightly better shot at it than the Maclinticks, but that doesn’t mean one has no problems. I shall be glad when this baby is born. Matilda has not been at all easy to deal with since it started. Of course, I know that is in the best possible tradition. All the same, it makes one wonder, with Maclintick, how long one will be able to remain married. No, I don’t mean that exactly. It is not that I am any less fond of Matilda, so much as that marriage – this quite separate entity – somehow comes between us. However, I expect things will be all right as soon as the baby arrives. Forgive these morbid reflections. I should really write them for the Sunday papers, get paid a huge fortune for it and receive an enormous fan-mail. The fact is, I am going through one of those awful periods when I cannot work. You know what hell that is.’
Moreland and I parted company, making arrangements to meet soon. The subject of marriage cropped up again, although in a different manner, when Widmerpool lunched with me the following week.
We will not take too long over our meal, if you do not mind,’ he said, speaking only after he had hung his hat topcoat and umbrella on a peg in the hall. ‘I am, as usual, very