A Friend from England by Anita Brookner

festivities. The Colonel gave me a look from which appraisal was not entirely absent. This too surprised me, but there was so much on offer that I responded to all that was going on. I could see that Oscar was notably less transfixed than everyone else; like his daughter, his smile was remote, and perhaps for that reason a little disappointing. Oh, why so sad? Was this merely an effect of his eternal reserve, the fatigue caused by the onslaught of the Colonel’s selling technique, or something else, something he had learned about his future son-in-law? Yes, it must be that, for Michael, it seemed, was not the sort of settled businessman he would have chosen but assistant to his father, for whom he ‘acted’ when the latter’s presence was required elsewhere. I could see that this might result in a rather unsettled existence, if he had to go back and forth to Portugal or Spain, but there was no reason why Heather should not accompany him or even play an active part. She knew the region well, and was a good traveller. And Oscar had given her a little property of her own, near to theirs, so there would never be the fatigue of hotels. I could see her, on her terrace, or on her mother’s, for Dorrie would undoubtedly spend more time abroad if her daughter were to be there, placidly waiting for thehyperactive Michael to return from whatever deal he had just landed. I could almost hear the tea being got ready, in that hot sun, as the virtues of a settled life were once more being restated. I thought it would all work out very well.
    In the course of the afternoon I learned more. The curious name of Sandberg was conferred on them by some slightly complicated ancestry: there was a Danish grandfather, apparently, as well as an Irish grandmother, or possibly two, but I never got this properly worked out, and it was certainly not my place to ask questions. At the same time, the long periods spent in Spain or Portugal had resulted in a very slight blurring of the sibilants in their speech, more noticeable when father and son spoke to each other than when they spoke to the rest of us. It was like a little code between them, rather charming, as was the anxiety with which the Colonel regarded his only child. So deep was the feeling between them that they could only communicate by means of jokes, at which the aunts nodded in slightly bewildered enjoyment. There were more smiles, there was more laughter that afternoon than I could remember before. But I saw that the essential part of these jokes was that not everyone could join in. The unit that the Colonel and Michael formed was a fairly impermeable one. Nevertheless, the sound of their laughter increased the atmosphere of goodwill, and seemed to ensure the happiness of everyone, both now and in the future.
    I saw too that I was to be the wedding guest, that, in fact, my function for this family was perceived as quite a positive one. Formerly thought to be the agent of Heather’s advancement, I was now to be the reflector of her glory. This did not bother me in the least. I had no romantic views about marriage, or marriages, nor was I consumed with envy. As far as I was concerned, my life was perfectly balanced and satisfying, although I keptquiet about certain aspects of it. Dorrie and her sisters chose to see it as a riot of fun about which I had the good manners to remain discreet, and they had valued my discretion in their desire to promote Heather as the main attraction. My life was not all fun, of course; in fact sometimes it was not much fun at all, but I suppose it suited me. I tried to keep everything within limits, in proportion. I was not made for excess.
    Therefore I felt no qualms as I regained my place in this family circle, only too glad to come to rest there. My function was not one that required much of me, either in the way of thought or censorship. I was more than willing to join in these celebrations, except for the worrying idea, that kept coming back to me, no