The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [188]
What could be done to improve Edward’s state of mind? But Dr Ryan, who as usual appeared to be fast asleep, had shown himself disinclined to talk about Edward. Instead, he had kept on insisting that the Major should leave, which for the Major was quite out of the question.
“Very well. If you want to act like a young fool and get yourself in a scrape...!”
Yes, yes, but about Edward? If, for example, he could be persuaded to take a holiday for a few weeks? But the old man was impatient with the Major’s theories and laborious qualifications as to Edward’s state of mind. Edward was a confounded nuisance and had been raving for years!
“But the holiday?”
“Yes, yes, take the old divil away and see he never comes back!”
The Major ground his teeth with exasperation and thought that it was really high time the old buffer retired. He was becoming more senile every day.
Naturally, when the Major suggested to Edward that it might do the twins good if he took them away for a few days or even longer (“I could look after the hotel while you’re away”) Edward looked at him in amazement. Leave Ireland at a time like this! At the very moment when one must stand firm! Only yesterday his property had been abused; a warning notice he had placed on the gate-post had been removed. The guilty party must be found and punished!
The Major (who was himself the guilty party) sighed and stared at his finger-nails. Edward was clearly inaccessible to reason. But perhaps the whole thing would blow over, the “troubles” would sort themselves out, Edward be restored to his senses. Although mild, the Major was a stubborn young man and determined, in any event, to salvage whatever he could. The twins should be sent to England to stay with their aunt, the one deemed “fast” who was married to a clergy-man, it couldn’t be helped. Besides, she was unlikely, in the Major’s opinion, to prove “faster” than the twins already were. Mrs Rappaport should also be dispatched. Perhaps the guests might be encouraged to leave as well...
“Do whatever you think best, old man. I leave it in your hands,” Edward replied vaguely, with the air of someone who has more important things on his mind. And he stared into the distance, cracking his knuckles and looking insane.
When the day came for the twins to leave neither they nor Edward seemed in the least upset by their departure or by the prospect of separation. On the platform of Kilnalough station Edward grabbed a handful of blonde hair on each side of him and said: “Will you behave yourselves in London?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Will you?”
“Ouch! Daddy, you’re hurting!”
“D’you promise?”
“Yes, yes!”
And with that he bundled them into their compartment and rejoined the Major, who was the only member of the party to be moved by this leave-taking. Still, he was glad to see them out of danger. He only wished Mrs Rappaport had agreed to leave also, but he had only succeeded in arousing her obstinacy. She loathed Calcutta; always had. Refused to go there. The heat was appalling.
“Calcutta? But nobody wants you to go to Calcutta!” A long and debilitating argument had ensued. She agreed that she would be safe there. But safety wasn’t everything. One had one’s duty, after all. She would stay where she was. She remained quite deaf to the Major’s protestations. Once, fleetingly, she seemed to grasp that the Major wanted her to go to England, not to Calcutta, for she exclaimed: “I’m not pregnant, am I?”
“Good heavens! I certainly hope not!”
“Well, the climate here is perfectly suitable.” During this baffling conversation the huge cat that crouched on her lap like a furry bulldog stared piercingly into the Major’s eyes. But at last the Major acknowledged defeat; sensing this, the cat relaxed and rubbed its head against the hard leather holster which Mrs Rappaport now habitually wore strapped round her waist (the calm and practical Mrs Roche had taken care to remove the cartridges, however). The cat yawned and licked its paw