The Complete Short Stories of Evelyn Waugh - Evelyn Waugh [223]
“There’s more to it than that.”
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“Now, Pobble, you have to take this calmly. For your own good, not for mine. I’m used to violence, God knows. If you had been poor the police would have been after you for the way you’ve knocked me about all these years. I can take it; but you, Pobble, you are at an age when it might be dangerous. So keep quite calm and I’ll tell you. I’m engaged to be married.”
It was not a shock; it was not a surprise. It was what Basil had expected. “Rot,” he said.
“I happen to be in love. You must know what that means. You must have been in love once—with mummy or someone.”
“Rot. And dammit, Babs, don’t blub. If you think you’re old enough to be in love, you’re old enough not to blub.”
“That’s a silly thing to say. It’s being in love makes me blub. You don’t realize. Apart from being perfect and frightfully funny he’s an artistic genius and everyone’s after him and I’m jolly lucky to have got him and you’ll love him too once you know him if only you won’t be stuck-up and we got engaged on the telephone so I came up and he was out for all I know someone else has got him and I almost died of cold and now you come in looking more like a vampire than a papa and start saying ‘rot.’ ”
She pressed her face on his thigh and wept.
After a time Basil said: “What makes you think Robin paints?”
“Robin? Robin Trumpington? You don’t imagine I’m engaged to Robin, do you? He’s got a girl of his own he’s mad about. You don’t know much about what goes on, do you, Pobble? If it’s only Robin you object to, everything’s all right.”
“Well, who the hell do you think you are engaged to?”
“Charles of course.”
“Charles à Court. Never heard of him.”
“Don’t pretend to be deaf. You know perfectly well who I mean. You met him here the other evening only I don’t think you really took him in.”
“Albright,” said Basil. It was evidence of the beneficial effect of the sanatorium that he did not turn purple in the face, did not gobble. He merely asked quietly: “Have you been to bed with this man?”
“Not to bed.”
“Have you slept with him?”
“Oh, no sleep.”
“You know what I mean. Have you had sexual intercourse with him?”
“Well, perhaps; not in bed; on the floor and wide awake you might call it intercourse, I suppose.”
“Come clean, Babs. Are you a virgin?”
“It’s not a thing any girl likes having said about her, but I think I am.”
“Think?”
“Well, I suppose so. Yes, really. But we can soon change all that. Charles is set on marriage, bless him. He says it’s easier to get married to girls if they’re virgins. I can’t think why. I don’t mean a big wedding. Charles is very unsocial and he’s an orphan, no father, no mother, and his relations don’t like him, so we’ll just be married quietly in a day or two and then I thought if you and mummy don’t want it we might go to the house in Bermuda. We shan’t be any trouble to you at all, really. If you want to go to Bermuda, we’ll settle for Venice, but Charles says that’s a bit square and getting cold in November, so Bermuda will really be better.”
“Has it occurred to either of you that you need my permission to marry?”
“Now don’t get legal, Pobble. You know I love you far too much ever to do anything you wouldn’t like.”
“You’d better get dressed and go round to your mother at Claridges.”
“Can’t get dressed. No hot water.”
“Have a bath there. I had better see this young man.”
“He’s coming here at twelve.”
“I’ll wait for him.”
“You