The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro [81]
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Mr Harry Smith, ‘but my point was a slightly different one. For the likes of yourself, it’s always been easy to exert your influence. You can count the most powerful in the land as your friends. But the likes of us here, sir, we can go year in year out and never even lay eyes on a real gentleman – other than maybe Dr Carlisle. He’s a first-class doctor, but with all respect, he doesn’t have connections as such. It gets easy for us here to forget our responsibility as citizens. That’s why I work so hard at the campaigning. Whether people agree or disagree – and I know there’s not one soul in this room now who’d agree with everything I say – at least I’ll get them thinking. At least I’ll remind them of their duty. This is a democratic country we’re living in. We fought for it. We’ve all got to play our part.’
‘I wonder what could have happened to Dr Carlisle,’ Mrs Smith said. ‘I’m sure the gentleman could just about use some educated talk now.’
This provoked more laughter.
‘In fact,’ I said, ‘although it has been extremely enjoyable to meet you all, I must confess I’m beginning to feel rather exhausted …’
‘Of course, sir,’ Mrs Taylor said, ‘you must be very tired. Perhaps I’ll fetch another blanket for you. It’s getting much chillier at night now.’
‘No, I assure you, Mrs Taylor, I’ll be most comfortable.’
But before I could rise from the table, Mr Morgan said:
‘I just wondered, sir, there’s a fellow we like to listen to on the wireless, his name’s Leslie Mandrake. I just wondered if you’d happened to have met him.’
I replied that I had not, and was about to make another attempt to retire only to find myself detained by further inquiries regarding various persons I may have met. I was, then, still seated at the table when Mrs Smith remarked:
‘Ah, there’s someone coming. I expect that’s the doctor at last.’
‘I really ought to be retiring,’ I said. ‘I feel quite exhausted.’
‘But I’m sure this is the doctor now, sir,’ said Mrs Smith. ‘Do wait a few more minutes.’
Just as she said this, there came a knock and a voice said: ‘It’s just me, Mrs Taylor.’
The gentleman who was shown in was still fairly young – perhaps around forty or so – tall and thin; tall enough, in fact, that he was obliged to stoop to enter the doorway of the cottage. No sooner had he bade us all a good evening than Mrs Taylor said to him:
‘This is our gentleman here, Doctor. His car’s stuck up there on Thornley Bush and he’s having to endure Harry’s speeches as a result.’
The doctor came up to the table and held out his hand to me.
‘Richard Carlisle,’ he said with a cheerful smile as I rose to shake it. ‘Rotten bit of luck about your car. Still, trust you’re being well looked after here. Looked after rather too well, I imagine.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘Everyone has been most kind.’
‘Well, nice to have you with us.’ Dr Carlisle seated himself almost directly across the table from me. ‘Which part of the country are you from?’
‘Oxfordshire,’ I said, and indeed, it was no easy task to suppress the instinct to add ‘sir’.
‘Fine part of the country. I have an uncle lives just outside Oxford. Fine part of the country.’
‘The gentleman was just telling us, Doctor,’ Mrs Smith said, ‘he knows Mr Churchill.’
‘Is that so? I used to know a nephew of his, but I’ve rather lost touch. Never had the privilege of meeting the great man, though.’
‘And not only Mr Churchill,’ Mrs Smith went on. ‘He knows Mr Eden. And Lord Halifax.’
‘Really?’
I could sense the doctor’s eyes examining me closely. I was about to make some appropriate remark, but before I could do so, Mr Andrews said to the doctor:
‘Gentleman was just telling us he’s had a lot to do with foreign affairs in his time.’
‘Is that so indeed?’
It seemed to me that Dr Carlisle went on looking at me for an inordinate length of time. Then he regained his cheerful manner and asked:
‘Touring around for pleasure?’
‘Principally,’ I said, and gave a small laugh.
‘Plenty of nice country around here. Oh,