Troubles - James Gordon Farrell [102]
Ripon’s eyebrows shot up, miming surprise and despair. “What a nuisance!”
“He’ll be back this evening so why don’t you stay? I know he’s anxious to see you.”
“That’s a bit difficult, actually. You see...” The Major waited, but Ripon’s explanation lapsed into silence. Over his shoulder he glimpsed the motionless silhouette of a chauffeur behind the steering-wheel. Meanwhile Ripon, in turn, was looking over the Major’s shoulder with curious longing at the half-open front door. But the Major, half turning, assured himself that there was nobody standing there, only the dog Rover and one of the maids cleaning the brasswork on the massive front door. Could it be that the boy was homesick? wondered the Major, touched.
“You really should stay.”
“Wish I could, old man. Only wish I could...Fact is...” But again the explanation was still-born.
“Well, at least come in for a moment. You can write him a note or something.”
But Ripon paid no attention to this suggestion. Instead, he turned towards the motor car and with gloomy animation began pointing out its virtues to the Major. The size, the speed, the comfort...
“It looks a splendid vehicle.”
“Not mine, of course. Old man Noonan lent it to me for the day to motor over and see the old parent. Very civilized of him. Thoughtful.” He advanced on the motor car, summoning the Major.
“This is Driscoll. Come and meet him, Driscoll’s a brick.”
The chauffeur was a thin sandy-haired youth with bulging eyes and the abnormally solemn face of the impudent; the Major had seen his type in the army, where trouble-makers reveal themselves as surely as acid on litmus paper. He nodded curtly. Driscoll lifted his peaked cap with more deference than the situation required. Ripon was once more gazing greedily at the front door. Reluctantly dragging his eyes away, he said: “Splendid driver, aren’t you, Driscoll?”
“If you say so, sir.”
“See you at Brooklands one of these days, eh? Almost hit a heifer on the way over...I tell you, Major, he’s a real bright spark. Hey, on parade!” And Ripon, lunging forward, knocked the peaked cap off Driscoll’s head on to the gravel. Driscoll instantly dropped into a boxing stance, right fist guarding his chin, left fist pumping exaggeratedly back and forth, chuckling as Ripon feinted in one direction and tried to land a blow from the other. The Major watched, in dismay.
“You’ll find me in the house,” he said sharply and turned away, thankful that Edward was not on hand to see his son skylarking with the chauffeur.
“Hey, wait a minute. Wouldn’t you like to go for a ride in her? Wait, Major...look, I thought Driscoll might take you for a drive around while I’m writing a note for the old man.”
“No thanks.” The Major had already reached the door. He turned and glanced back. Driscoll was picking up his cap. Ripon’s round cherubic face was looking towards him in consternation. “Whatever is the matter with the fellow?” wondered the Major.
Feeling tired and somewhat feverish (he believed he must have a cold coming on), the Major went upstairs to his room and lay on his bed. But presently he got up again, searched through the drawers of his dressing-table for a cigarette, found one and lit it. The tobacco tasted dry and stale. He put it out almost immediately.
A few minutes later he made his way along the dusty corridor towards a room which looked out over the drive. The Rolls-Royce was still standing there. Driscoll was sitting on the running-board flicking gravel. Ripon was talking earnestly to one of the maids under the orangerie door; the Major could just see the white starched cuff of her sleeve moving against the black material of her uniform.
A few more minutes elapsed before he made up his mind to go downstairs again. But Ripon was no longer to be seen. Wearily the Major set off to look for him, trailing through one room after another. Rover, uncomfortable in Edward’s absence, trotted at the Major’s heels, as anxious as he was himself to find whoever it was they were looking for. The Major stopped. He felt delirious and thought: “I must have caught a chill.