Temporary Kings - Anthony Powell [71]
The battle over Stevens could claim a certain continuity from the past, Matilda and Rosie not only rivals at giving parties, but Rosie’s first husband, Jock Udall, having belonged to a newspaper-owning family traditionally opposed to Sir Magnus Donners and all his works. Some thought the pivot of the Ischia incident Stevens himself, bringing pressure on Rosie to force marriage. If so, the manoeuvre was successful. When his body was finally recovered from the battlefield, marriage took place, although only after a decent interval, to purge his contempt. The story that Stevens had given Rosie a black eye during these troubled times was never corroborated. After marriage, a greater docility was, on the contrary, evident in Stevens. He hovered about on the outskirts of the literary world, writing an occasional article, reviewing an occasional book. It was generally supposed he might have liked some regular occupation, but Rosie would not allow that, imposing idleness on her husband as a kind of eternal punishment for the brief scamper with Matilda. Stevens had never repeated the success of Sad Majors, a work distinguished, in its way, among examples of what its author called ‘that dicey art-form, the war reminiscence’. The often promised book of verse – ‘verse, not poetry’, Stevens always insisted – had never appeared. I had heard it suggested that Stevens worked part-time for the Secret Service. War record, general abilities, way of life, none of them controverted that possibility, though equally the suggestion may have been quite groundless. When Rosie, and the two Americans, began to talk to Gwinnett, Stevens swivelled his chair round in my direction.
‘Do you know who’s in this town, Nick?’
‘Who?’
‘My old girl friend Pam Flitton. I saw her wandering across the Piazzetta soon after we arrived. She didn’t see me.’
He spoke in a dramatically low voice. There was no doubt a touch of facetiousness in pretending his wartime affair with Pamela was a desperate secret from his wife, even if true he was more than a little in awe of Rosie.
‘She’s staying with someone called Jacky Bragadin. Both the Widmerpools are.’
‘Somebody called Jacky Bragadin? Don’t be so snobbish, old cock. I know Jack Bragadin. Rosie’s known him for years. He was a friend of her father’s. He once came to a party of ours in London. Don’t try and play down your smart friends, as if I was too dim to have heard of them. We were actually thinking of ringing Jacky up tomorrow, asking if we could come and see him.’
‘Keep calm, Odo. He’s not a friend of mine. I never met him before the Conference went over his Palazzo. That was how I knew the Widmerpools were staying with Jacky Bragadin.’
Rosie caught the name. She left the Americans to chat together with Gwinnett, who had assumed, with his compatriots, a blunt, matter-of-fact, all-purposes air.
‘Did you mention Jacky Bragadin? How is he? His heart wasn’t too good when I last saw him, also that trouble with his chest. We thought of getting into touch. Do you know who’s staying there?’
‘I was telling Odo – the Widmerpools, among others.’
‘Good heavens, the Frog Footman, and that ghastly wife of his. What can Jacky be thinking of? Thank goodness you warned me. Who are the other unfortunates?’
‘An American