The Kindly Ones - Anthony Powell [74]
‘Peter has driven her off her rocker. Nothing else. Used to be a very pretty little thing married to an oaf of a man who bored her to death.’
‘What went wrong?’
‘She was mad about Peter – still is – and he got too much of her. He always had various items on the side, of course. Then he started up with Lady Anne Something-or-Other, who is always about with Donners.’
‘Anne Umfraville.’
‘That’s the one.’
‘There was rather a scene when we were there.’
I gave a brief account of the Masque of the Seven Deadly Sins. Duport listened without interest.
‘Donners never seems to mind about other people getting off with his girls,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard it said he is a voyeur. No accounting for tastes. I don’t think Peter cares what he does now. Something of the sort may have upset Betty – though whether she herself, or Anne, was involved, you can’t say.’
‘I found Peter quietened down on the whole.’
‘Quite right. He is in a way. Used to be more cheerful in the days of the slump, when he was down the drain like the rest of us. Then he turned to, and made it all up. Very successful, I’d say. But he never recovered from it. Slowed him up for good, so far as being a pal for a night on the tiles. Prefers now to read the Financial Times over a glass of port. However, that need not apply to his private life – may have developed special tastes, just as Donners has. Very intensive womanising sometimes leads to that kind of thing, and you can’t say Peter hasn’t been intensive.’
By this time we had reached the Royal. Duport led the way to the bar. It was empty, except for the barman, a beefy, talkative fellow, who evidently knew Duport pretty well.
‘Fred will fix you up with a girl, if you want one,’ said Duport, while drinks were being poured out. ‘I don’t recommend it.’
‘Come off it, Mr Duport.’
‘You know you can, Fred. Don’t be so coy about it. Where are we going to sit? How do you feel about availing yourself of Fred’s good offices?’
‘Not tonight.’
‘Why not?’
‘Not in the mood.’
‘Sure?’
‘Certain.’
‘Don’t make a decision you’ll regret later.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Do you play poker?’
‘Not a great hand at it.’
‘Bores you?’
‘Never seem to hold a card.’
‘Golf?’
‘No.’
I felt I was not cutting a very dashing figure, even if I did not accept all this big talk about women as necessarily giving an exact picture of Duport’s own life. No doubt women played a considerable part in his existence, but at the same time he seemed over keen on making an impression on that score. He probably talked about them, I thought, more than concerning himself with incessant action in that direction. He was not at all put out that I should fall so far short of the dissipations suggested by him. All he wanted was a companion with whom to drink. Life at the Bellevue must certainly be boring enough.
‘I was going to tell you about that swine Widmerpool,’ he said.
This seemed no occasion for an outward display of loyalty to Widmerpool by taking offence at such a description. I had stated earlier that Widmerpool and I were on reasonably good terms. That would have to be sufficient. In any case, I had no illusions about Widmerpool’s behaviour. All the same, this abuse sounded ungrateful, for what I knew of their connection indicated that more than once Widmerpool had been instrumental in finding a job for Duport when hard up. It was a Widmerpool job for Duport that had finally severed me from Jean.
‘Why do you dislike Widmerpool so much?’
‘Listen to this,’ said Duport. ‘Some years ago, when I was on my uppers, Widmerpool arranged for me to buy metal ores for a firm in South America. When that was fixed, I suggested to my wife, Jean, that we might as well link up again. Rather to my surprise, she agreed. Question of the child and so on. Made things easier.’
Duport paused.
‘I’ll tell you about Jean later,’ he said. ‘The Widmerpool story first. I don’t expect you’ve ever heard of chromite?’
‘The word was being bandied about at Stourwater.’
‘Of course. I’d forgotten you’d been there at the critical moment.’
‘What was the critical moment?’
‘Donners