The Complete Short Stories of Evelyn Waugh - Evelyn Waugh [221]
“My money.”
“I’ve always regarded it as mine. I shan’t let her have a penny. Not till I’m dead anyway.”
“You look half dead now.”
“I’ve never felt better. You simply haven’t got used to my new appearance.”
“You’re very shaky.”
“ ‘Disembodied’ is the word. Perhaps I need a drink. In fact I know I do. This whole business of Babs has come as a shock—at a most unsuitable time. I might go and see the booby doctor.”
And, later, he set off along the corridor which led to the administrative office. He set off but had hardly hobbled six short paces when his newly sharpened conscience stabbed him. Was this the etherealized, the reborn Basil slinking off like a schoolboy to seek the permission of a booby doctor for a simple adult indulgence? He turned aside and made for the gym.
There he found two large ladies in bathing-dresses sitting astride a low horse. They swallowed hastily and brushed crumbs from their lips. A rubbery young man in vest and shorts addressed him sternly: “One moment, sir. You can’t come in here without an appointment.”
“My visit is unprofessional,” said Basil. “I want a word with you.”
The young man looked doubtful. Basil drew his note case from his pocket and tapped it on the knob of his cane.
“Well, ladies, I think that finishes the workout for this morning. We’re getting along very nicely. We mustn’t expect immediate results you know. Same routine tomorrow.” He replaced the lid on a small enamelled bin. The ladies looked hungrily at it but went in peace.
“Whisky,” said Basil.
“Whisky? Why, I couldn’t give you such a thing even if I had it. It would be as much as my job’s worth.”
“I should think it is precisely what your job is worth.”
“I don’t quite follow, sir.”
“My wife had grouse pie this morning.”
He was a cheeky young man much admired in his own milieu for his bounce. He was not abashed. A horrible smirk of complicity passed over his face. “It wasn’t really grouse,” he said. “Just a stale liver pâté the grocer had. They get so famished here they don’t care what they’re eating, the poor creatures.”
“Don’t talk about my wife in those terms,” said Basil, adding: “I shall know what I’m drinking, at a pound a snort.”
“I haven’t any whisky, honest. There may be a drop of brandy in the first-aid cupboard.”
“Let’s look at it.”
It was of a reputable brand. Basil took two snorts. He gasped. Tears came to his eyes. He felt for support on the wall-bars beside him. For a moment he feared nausea. Then a great warmth and elation were kindled inside him. This was youth indeed; childhood no less. Thus he had been exalted in his first furtive swigging in his father’s pantry. He had drunk as much brandy as this twice a day, most days of his adult life, after a variety of preliminary potations, and had felt merely a slight heaviness. Now in his etherealized condition he was, as it were, raised from the earth, held aloft and then lightly deposited; a mystical experience as though on Ganges bank or a spur of the Himalayas.
There was a mat near his feet, thick, padded, bed-like. Here he subsided and lay in ecstasy; quite outside his body, high and happy, his spirit soared; he shut his eyes.
“You can’t stay here, sir. I’ve got to lock up.”
“Don’t worry,” said Basil. “I’m not here.”
The gymnast was very strong; it was a light task to hoist Basil on one of the trollies which in various sizes were part of the equipment of the sanatorium, and thus recumbent, dazed but not totally insensible, smoothly propelled up the main corridor, he was met by the presiding doctor.
“What have you there, sergeant?”
“Couldn’t say at all. Never saw the gentleman before.”
“It looks like Mr. Seal. Where did you find him?”
“He just walked into the gym, sir, looking rather queer and suddenly he passed out.”
“Gave you a queer look? Yes.”
“He rolls through the air with the greatest of ease, that darling young man on the flying trapeze,” Basil chanted with some faint semblance of tune in his voice.
“Been overdoing it a bit, sir, I wouldn’t wonder.”
“You might be right, sergeant. You had better leave him now.