The Garden Party and Other Stories - Katherine Mansfield [59]
‘We shall have to anoint ourselves with the butter,’ said Dennis. ‘May thy head, William, lack not ointment.’
‘Look here,’ said William, ‘how are we going to sit? I’d better get up by the driver.’
‘No, Bobby Kane’s by the driver,’ said Isabel. ‘You’re to sit between Moira and me.’ The taxi started. ‘What have you got in those mysterious parcels?’
‘De-cap-it-ated heads!’ said Bill Hunt, shuddering beneath his hat.
‘Oh, fruit!’ Isabel sounded very pleased. ‘Wise William! A melon and a pineapple. How too nice!’
‘No, wait a bit,’ said William, smiling. But he really w is anxious. ‘I brought them down for the kiddies.’
‘Oh, my dear!’ Isabel laughed, and slipped her hand through his arm. ‘They’d be rolling in agonies if they were to eat them. No’ – she patted his hand – ‘you must bring them something next time. I refuse to part with my pineapple.’
‘Cruel Isabel! Do let me smell it!’ said Moira. She flung her arms across William appealingly. ‘Oh!’ The strawberry bonnet fell forward: she sounded quite faint.
‘A Lady in Love with a Pine-apple,’ said Dennis, as the taxi drew up before a little shop with a striped blind. Out came Bobby Kane, his arms full of little packets.
‘I do hope they’ll be good. I’ve chosen them because of the colours. There are some round things which really look too divine And just look at this nougat,’ lie cried ecstatically, ‘just look at it! It’s a perfect little ballet!’
But at that moment the shopman appeared. ‘Oh, I forgot. They’re none of them paid for,’ said Bobby, looking frightened. Isabel gave the shopman a note, and Bobby was radiant again. ‘Hallo, William! I’m sitting by the dive:’.’ And bare-headed, all in white, with his sleeves rolled up to the shoulders, he leapt into his place. ‘Avanti!’ he cried…
After tea the others went off to bathe, while William stayed and made his peace with the kiddies. But Johnny and Paddy were asleep, the rose-red glow had paled, bats were flying, and still the bathers had not returned. As William wandered downstairs, the maid crossed the hall carrying a lamp. He followed her into the sitting-room. It was a long room, coloured yellow. On the wall opposite William someone had painted a young man, over life-size, with very wobbly legs, offering a wide-eyed daisy to a young woman who had one very short arm and one very long, tain one. Over the chairs and sofa there hung strips of black material, covered with big splashes like broken eggs, and everywhere one looked then; seemed to be an ashtray full of cigarette ends. William sat down in one of the armchairs. Nowadays, when one felt with one hand down the sides, it wasn’t to come upon a sheep with three legs or a cow that had lost one horn, or a very fat dove out of the Noah’s Ark. One fished up yet another little paper-covered book of smudged-looking poems… He thought of the wad of papers in his pocket, but he was too hungry and tired to read. The door was open; sounds came from the kitchen. The servants were talking as if they were alone in the house. Suddenly there came a loud screech of laughter and an equally loud ‘Sh!’ They had remembered him. William got up and went through the french windows into the garden, and as he stood there in the shadow he heard the bathers coming up the sandy road; their voices rang through the quiet.
‘I think it’s up to Moira to use her little arts and wiles.’
A tragic menu from Moira.
‘We ought to have a gramophone for the weekends that played “The Maid of the Mountains.” ’
‘Oh no! Oh no!’ cried Isabel’s voice. ‘That’s not fair to William. Be nice to him, my children! He’s only staying until tomorrow evening.’
‘Leave him to me,’ cried Bobby Kane. ‘I’m awfully good at looking after people.’
The gate swung open and shut. William moved on the terrace; they had seen him. ‘Hallo, William!’ And Bobby Kane, flapping his towel, began to leap and pirouette on the parched lawn. ‘Pity you didn’t come, William. The water was divine. And we all went to a little pub afterwards and