Loving - Henry Green [2]
me siesta. And don't forget to give us a call sharp on four thirty. You can't be trusted yet to lay the tea. Listen though. If that front door rings it will likely be the doctor. He's expected. Show him straight in,' Raunce said, pointing with his thumb into the door agape. He made off. 'What about Miss Burch?' the boy called. 'Shall I call her?' he shouted, desperate. Raunce must have heard, but he gave no answer. Left alone young Albert began to shake. In the morning room two days later Raunce stood before Mrs Tennant and showed part of his back to Violet her daughter-in-law. 'Might I speak to you for a moment Madam?' 'Yes Arthur what is it?' 'I'm sure I would not want to cause any inconvenience but I desire to give in my notice.' She could not see Violet because he was in the way. So she glared at the last button but one of his waistcoat, on a level with her daughter-in-law's head behind him. He had been standing with arms loose at his sides and now a hand came uncertainly to find if he was done up and having found dropped back. 'What Arthur?' she asked. She seemed exasperated. 'Just when I'm like this when this has happened to Eldon?' 'The place won't be the same without him Madam.' 'Surely that's not a reason. Well never mind. I daresay not but I simply can't run to another butler.' 'No Madam.' 'Things are not what they used to be you know. It's the war. And then there's taxation and everything. You must understand that.' 'I'm sure I have always tried to give every satisfaction Madam,' he replied. At this she picked up a newspaper. She put it down again. She got to her feet. She walked over to one of six tall french windows with gothic arches. 'Violet,' she said, 'I can't imagine what Michael thinks he is about with the grass court darling. Even from where I am I can see plantains like the tops of palm trees.' Her daughter-in-law's silence seemed to imply that all effort was to butt one's head against wire netting. Charley stood firm. Mrs T. turned. With her back to the light he could not see her mouth and nose. 'Very well then,' she announced, 'I suppose we shall have to call you Raunce.' 'Thank you Madam.' 'Think it over will you?' She was smiling. 'Mind I've said nothing about more wages.' She dropped her eyes and in so doing she deepened her forehead on which once each month a hundred miles away in Dublin her white hair was washed in blue and waved and curled. She moved over to another table. She pushed the ashtray with one long lacquered oyster nail across the black slab of polished marble supported by a dolphin layered in gold. Then she added as though confidentially, 'I feel we should all hang together in these detestable times.' 'Yes Madam.' 'We're really in enemy country here you know. We simply must keep things up. With my boy away at the war. Just go and think it over.' 'Yes Madam.' 'We know we can rely on you you know Arthur.' 'Thank you Madam.' 'Then don't let me hear any more of this nonsense. Oh and I can't find one of my gloves I use for gardening. I can't find it anywhere.' 'I will make enquiries. Very good Madam.' He shut the great door after. He almost swung his arms, he might have been said to step out for the thirty yards he had to go along that soft passage to the green baize door. Then he stopped. In one of the malachite vases, filled with daffodils, which stood on tall pedestals of gold naked male children without wings, he had seen a withered trumpet. He cut off the head with a pair of nail clippers. He carried this head away in cupped hand from above thick pile carpet in black and white squares through onto linoleum which was bordered with a purple key pattern on white until, when he had shut that green door to open his kingdom, he punted the daffodil ahead like a rugger ball. It fell limp on the oiled parquet a yard beyond his pointed shoes. He was kicking this flower into his pantry not more than thirty inches at a time when Miss Burch with no warning opened and came out of Mr Eldon's death chamber. She was snuffling. He picked it up off the floor quick. He said friendly, 'The stink of flowers