The Kindly Ones - Anthony Powell [29]
‘I wanted to have a talk about business matters,’ said Uncle Giles, not at all put out by this reception. ‘Mexican Eagles, among other things. Also the Limpopo Development Scheme. There has been rather a crisis in my own affairs. I’d like to ask your opinion. I value it. By the way, did I mention I heard a serious piece of news in Aldershot?’
‘What on earth were you doing in Aldershot?’ asked my father, speaking without alleviating the irony of his tone.
He must have seen that he was in for a bad time with his brother.
‘Had to meet a fellow there. Soldiered together years ago. Knowledgeable chap. I’ll just go across now and have a brief word with Aylmer Conyers.’
Uncle Giles had set down his Gladstone bag by the gate With characteristic inability to carry through any plan of campaign, he was deflected from reaching the General by the sight of Mrs Conyers sitting in the car. She still looked rather nervous. Uncle Giles stopped and began talking to her. By this time General Conyers himself must have noticed Uncle Giles’s arrival. He brought to an end his conversation with Dr Trelawney.
‘Well, Trelawney,’ he said, ‘I mustn’t keep you any longer. You will be wanting to lead your people on. Mustn’t take up all your day.’
‘On the contrary, General, the day-with its antithesis, night – is but an artificial apportionment of what we artlessly call Time.’
‘Nevertheless, Trelawney, Time has value, even if artificially apportioned.’
‘Then I shall expect to hear from you, General, when you wish to free yourself from bonds of Time and Space.’
‘You will, Trelawney, you will. Off you go now – at the double.’
Dr Trelawney drew himself up.
‘The Essence of the All is the Godhead of the True.’
The General replied with a jerk of his head.
‘The Vision of Visions heals the Blindness of Sight.’
The words were scarcely finished before Dr Trelawney had again begun to hasten along the road, his flock trailing after him. A moment or two later, they were among the trees that concealed Gullick’s cottage, where the road became a track. Then the last of them, a very small, pathetic child with a huge head, was finally lost to sight. No doubt they had reached the Common, were pursuing Oneness through the heather. Oneness perhaps also engaged the attention of General Conyers himself, because, deep in thought, he turned towards the car. He stood there for a second or two, staring at the bonnet. Uncle Giles terminated his conversation with Mrs Conyers.
‘I was admiring your new motor-car, General,’ he said. ‘Hope it is not bringing you as much trouble as most of them seem to cause their owners.’
Now that Dr Trelawney was out of the way, my parents moved towards the car themselves, perhaps partly to keep an eye on Uncle Giles in his relations with the General, still lost in reflection.
‘Thought I’d better not introduce you,’ said General Conyers, straightening himself as they came up to him. ‘One never knows how people may feel about a fellow like Trelawney – especially if he lives in the neighbourhood. Not everybody cares for him. You hear some funny stories. I find him interesting myself. Nasty habits, some people say. Can’t believe a word he says, of course. We met him years ago with a fellow I used to know in the Buffs who’d taken up yoga.’
The General lifted the starting-handle from the floor of the car.
‘Are you an expert in these machines, Giles?’ he asked.
He used the tone of one speaking to a child, not at all the manner of an equal in which he had addressed me earlier in the day. Knowing all about Uncle Giles, he was clearly determined not to allow himself to be irritated by him.
‘Never driven one in my life,’ said Uncle Giles. ‘Not too keen on ’em. Always in accidents. Some royalty in a motorcar have been involved in a nasty affair today. Heard the news in Aldershot. Fellow I went to see was told on the telephone. Amazing, isn’t it, hearing so soon. They’ve just assassinated an Austrian archduke down in Bosnia. Did it today. Only happened