Every Man for Himself - Beryl Bainbridge [15]
‘When he arrived, though only after some considerable time—’
‘Morgan—’ she interrupted.
‘I explained I’d never seen him before in my life and went home.’
‘I’m not talking about the dead man,’ she said. ‘I mean the one who—’ but before she could enlighten me, Molly Dodge pushed back her chair and said she wanted to dance.
We walked in procession to the Palm Court. Young Melchett had crumbs caught in his yellow moustache. Wallis Ellery swayed at my side, swinging her white-gloved arms. When I opened the doors she rose on the toes of her white satin shoes.
The band hadn’t yet arrived and Ginsberg and the other fellows went off to the adjoining smoke-room. They promised to return as soon as they heard the music. I might have followed them if Wallis hadn’t chosen to sit next to me. It turned me giddy. For half an hour, at least, she scarcely spoke to Molly or Ida. Though I can’t claim she hung on to my every word, she was remarkably civil and attentive. Molly kept rolling her eyes and smirking. We talked about Sissy and the baby for a time. She thought Sissy terribly brave to go through all that sort of thing, though supposed it was worth it. And she rather liked Whitney.
‘Sissy chose him for his eyelashes,’ I told her.
‘How sensible,’ she said. ‘They, at least, are sure to be genuine.’
I announced I was rather looking forward to having children, a thought that had never before crossed my mind. ‘And I’ll make sure they’re properly looked after.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘They should always be looked after, shouldn’t they? . . . By someone or other.’
Sissy, who liked her, said her cleverness stemmed from conflict. Her father kept a string of ‘girlies’ and her mother had twice attempted suicide. Her last botched effort, when she’d flung herself from the first floor of their Boston town house, had resulted in a damaged spine and confinement to a wheel chair. I wasn’t so sure cleverness arose from that sort of thing. In our circle such family upsets were commonplace, but then, so was stupidity.
She leaned nearer and looked into my eyes. It was all I coulddo to stop my lips from trembling. She wanted to know what I’d been doing in London for the past two months and why we hadn’t run into one another. I explained I’d spent a deal of time with Melchett’s people in Dorset, and for the rest I’d been occupied with family business.
‘What sort of business?’ she asked, as though she really cared. ‘Surely you’re not interested in banking, Morgan?’
It was very encouraging. In my head I mouthed, Darling, you are my best girl, though even as I was romancing, her eyes, brilliant as glass, were cutting through my dreams. I said I’d been sent over to supervise the transportation of my uncle’s European art collection now that American import duties had been abolished. It wasn’t quite the truth. Jack was in charge of that sort of thing, though I had signed papers on the Trust’s behalf.
‘You mean to tell me,’ she cried, ‘that all those wonderful Rubenses and Rembrandts are down in the hold this very moment?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘There was a postponement due to the miners’ strike. The shipment will follow later.’
‘And will you come back again to keep an eye on things?’
I said I rather thought I wouldn’t. There followed a dreary interlude in which she pressed me to explain what import duties entailed. I wasn’t clear myself and tried to change the subject, mentioning I had been working for the previous year on the design of the Titanic, though leaving out my involvement with plumbing.
She seemed loath to drop the subject of my uncle’s paintings, or rather the difficulties surrounding the consignment, which was both puzzling and disappointing. I had thought our conversation was developing rather differently and had even been getting up steam to suggest a stroll on deck.
‘It’s a fearful responsibility,’ she said. ‘being in charge of such valuable works of art.’
‘Or would have been,’ I said.
‘But then, of course, you have your associates aboard.’
‘What associates?’ I said. ‘I haven’t any associates.’
‘I thought I saw you with someone in the foyer