The Soldier's Art - Anthony Powell [44]
“You flatter me. Anyway, he seems more of a success than I am with my own wife. If he is keen on the girls, I suppose making for Priscilla would be a matter of routine?”
“So I should imagine.”
“You liked him?”
“We got on pretty well.”
“Why was he Returned-to-Unit?”
“For cutting a lecture.”
Lovell seemed all at once to lose interest in Stevens and his personality. His manner changed. There could be no doubt he was very upset.
“So far as I can see there was nothing particularly wrong with our marriage,” he said. “If I hadn’t been sent to that God-awful spot, it would have gone on all right. At least that’s how things appeared to me. I don’t particularly want a divorce even now.”
“Is there any question of a divorce?”
“It isn’t going to be much fun living with a woman who’s in love with someone else.”
“Lots of people do it, and vice versa.”
“At best, it’s never going to be the same.”
“Nothing ever remains the same. Marriage or anything else.”
“I thought your theory was that everything did always remain the same?”
“Everything alters, yet does remain the same. It might even improve matters.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Not really.”
“Neither do I,” said Lovell, “though I see what you mean. That’s if she’s prepared to come back and live with me. I’m not even sure of that. I think she wants to marry Stevens.”
“She must be mad.”
“Mad she may be, but that’s the way she’s talking.”
“Where’s Caroline?”
“My parents are looking after her.”
“And Priscilla herself?”
“Staying with Molly Jeavons – though I only found out that by chance yesterday. She’s been moving about among various relations, is naturally at times rather vague about her whereabouts, so far as keeping me informed is concerned.”
“You’ve dished all this up with her?”
“On my last leave – making it a charming affair.”
“But lately?”
“Since then, we’ve been out of touch more than once. We are at this moment, until I found, quite by chance, she was at the Jeavonses’. I’m hoping to see her to-night. That’s why I can’t dine with you.”
“You and Priscilla are dining together?”
“Not exactly. You remember Bijou Ardglass, that gorgeous mannequin, one-time girl-friend of Prince Theodoric? I ran into her yesterday on my way to Combined Ops. She’s driving for the Belgians or Poles, one of the Allied contingents – an odd female organisation run by Lady McReith, whom Bijou was full of stories about. Bijou asked me to a small party she is giving for her fortieth birthday, about half-a-dozen old friends at the Madrid.”
“Bijou Ardglass’s fortieth birthday.”
“Makes you think.”
“I only knew her by sight, but even so – and Priscilla will be there?”
“Bijou found her at Aunt Molly’s. Of course Priscilla told Bijou I was on the East Coast. I was when we last exchanged letters. I explained to Bijou I’d just been posted to London at short notice – which was quite true – and hadn’t managed to get together with Priscilla yet.”
“You haven’t called up Priscilla at the Jeavonses’?”
“I thought it would be best if we met at Bijou’s party – without Priscilla knowing I was going to be there. I have a reason for that. The Madrid was the place we celebrated our engagement. The Madrid might also be the place where we straightened things out.”
That was just like Lovell. Everything had to be staged. Perhaps he was right, and everything does have to be staged. That is a system that can at least be argued as the best. At any rate, people must run their lives on their own terms.
“I mean it’s worth making an effort to patch things up,” he said, “don’t you think, Nick?”
He asked the question as if he had no idea what the answer would be, possibly even expecting a negative rather than affirmative one.
“Yes, of course – every possible effort.”
“You can imagine what all this is like going on in one’s head, round and round for ever, while you’re trying to sort out a lot of bloody stuff about radios and landing-craft. For instance, if she goes off with Stevens, think of all the negotiations about Caroline, all that kind of thing.”
“Chips – Hugh Moreland