Stories of John Cheever (1979 Pulitzer Prize), The - John Cheever [126]
The young cousins did not quite know what to make of him. Was he a cousin himself? an uncle, perhaps? a poor relation? But it was a comfortable house and a brilliant day, and in the end they would take Victor for what he appeared to be, and he appeared to be very happy.
THE SORROWS OF GIN
It was Sunday afternoon, and from her bedroom Amy could hear the Beardens coming in, followed a little while later by the Farquarsons and the Parminters. She went on reading Black Beauty until she felt in her bones that they might be eating something good. Then she closed her book and went down the stairs. The living-room door was shut, but through it she could hear the noise of loud talk and laughter. They must have been gossiping or worse, because they all stopped talking when she entered the room.
"Hi, Amy," Mr. Farquarson said.
"Mr. Farquarson spoke to you, Amy," her father said.
"Hello, Mr. Farquarson," she said. By standing outside the group for a minute, until they had resumed their conversation, and then by slipping past Mrs. Farquarson, she was able to swoop down on the nut dish and take a handful.
"Amy!" Mr. Lawton said.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said, retreating out of the circle, toward the piano.
"Put those nuts back," he said.
"I've handled them, Daddy," she said.
"Well, pass the nuts, dear," her mother said sweetly. "Perhaps someone else would like nuts."
Amy filled her mouth with the nuts she had taken, returned to the coffee table, and passed the nut dish.
"Thank you, Amy," they said, taking a peanut or two.
"How do you like your new school, Amy?" Mrs. Bearden asked.
"I like it," Amy said. "I like private schools better than public schools. It isn't so much like a factory."
"What grade are you in?" Mr. Bearden asked.
"Fourth," she said.
Her father took Mr. Parminter's glass and his own, and got up to go into the dining room and refill them. She fell into the chair he had left vacant.
"Don't sit in your father's chair, Amy," her mother said, not realizing that Amy's legs were worn out from riding a bicycle, while her father had done nothing but sit down all day.
As she walked toward the French doors, she heard her mother beginning to talk about the new cook. It was a good example of the interesting things they found to talk about.
"You'd better put your bicycle in the garage," her father said, returning with the fresh drinks. "It looks like rain."
Amy went out onto the terrace and looked at the sky, but it was not very cloudy, it wouldn't rain, and his advice, like all the advice he gave her, was superfluous. They were always at her. "Put your bicycle away. Open the door for Grandmother, Amy. Feed the cat, Do your homework."
"Pass the nuts."
"Help Mrs. Bearden with her parcels."
"Amy, please try and take more pains with your appearance."
They all stood, and her father came to the door and called her. "We're going over to the Parminters' for supper," he said. "Cook's here, so you won't be alone. Be sure and go to bed at eight like a good girl. And come and kiss me good night."
After their cars had driven off, Amy wandered through the kitchen to the cook's bedroom beyond it and knocked on the door. "Come in," a voice said, and when Amy entered, she found the cook, whose name was Rosemary, in her bathrobe, reading the Bible. Rosemary smiled at Amy. Her smile was sweet and her old eyes were blue. "Your parents have gone out again?" she asked. Amy said that they had, and the old woman invited her to sit down. "They do seem to enjoy themselves, don't they? During the four days I've been here, they've been out every night, or had people in." She put the Bible face down on her lap and smiled, but not at Amy. "Of course, the drinking that goes on here is all sociable, and what your parents do is none of my business, is it? I worry about drink more than most people, because of my poor sister. My poor sister drank too much. For ten