A handful of dust by Evelyn Waugh Page A

not sure he's altogether awful... he's got that odious mother whom he adores... and he's always been very poor. I don't think he's had a fair deal. I heard all about it last night. He got engaged once but they couldn't get married because of money and since then he's never had a proper affaire with anyone decent... he's got to be taught a whole lot of things. That's part of his attraction." "Oh dear, I see you're very serious." The telephone rang. "Perhaps that's him." But a familiar voice rang out from the instrument so that Brenda too could hear it, "Good morning, darling, what's the diet today?" "Oh, Polly, what a good party last night." "Not so bad for the old girl was it? I say what about your sister and Mr. Beaver." "What about them?" "How long has that been on?" "There's nothing doing there, Polly." "Don't you tell me. They were well away last night. How's the boy managed it? That's what I want to know. He must have something we didn't know about..." "So Polly's on to your story. She'll be telling everyone in London at this moment." "How I wish there was anything to tell. The cub hasn't even rung me up... Well, I'll leave him in peace. If he doesn't do anything about me, I'll go down to Hetton this afternoon. Perhaps that's him." But it was only Allan from the Conservative Central Office, to say how sorry he had been not to get to the party the night before. "I hear Brenda disgraced herself," he said. "Goodness," said Brenda. "People do think that young men are easily come by." - "I scarcely saw you at Polly's last night," said Mrs. Beaver. "What became of you?" "We went early. Brenda Last was tired." "She was looking lovely. I am so glad you've made friends with her. When are you going to see her again." "I said I'd ring up." "Well, why don't you?" "Oh, mumsey, what's the use! I can't afford to start taking about women like Brenda Last. If I ring up she'll say, what are you doing, and I shall have to ask her to something, and it will be the same thing every day. I simply haven't the money." "I know, my son. It's very difficult for you... and you're wonderful about money. I ought to be grateful that I haven't a son always coming to me with debts. Still, it doesn't do to deny yourself everything you know: You're getting to be an old bachelor already at twenty-five. I could see Brenda liked you, that evening she came here." "Oh she likes me all right." "I hope she makes up her mind about that flat. They're going like hot cakes. I shall have to look about for another suitable house to split up. You'd be surprised who've been taking them-quite a number of people with houses in London already... Well, I must be getting back to work. I'm away for two nights by the way. See that Chambers looks after you properly. There are some Australians Sylvia Newport discovered who want to take a house in the country, so I'm driving them around to one or two that might do for them. Where are you lunching?" "Margot's." By one o'clock when they came back from taking Djinn to the Park, Beaver had not rung up. "So that's that," said Brenda, "I expect I'm glad really." She sent a telegram to Tony to expect her by the afternoon train and, in a small voice, ordered her things to be packed. "I don't seem to have anywhere to lunch," she said. "Why don't you come to Margot's. I know she'd love it." "Well ring up and ask her." So she met Beaver again. He was sitting some way from her and they did not speak to each other until everyone was going. "I kept trying to get through to you this morning," he said, "but the line was always engaged." "Oh come on," said Brenda, "I'll sock you a movie." Later she wired to Tony: Staying with Marjorie another day or two all love to you both.
    Four
    "Is mummy coming back today?" "I hope so. "That monkey-woman's party has lasted a long time. Can I come in to the station and meet her?" "Yes, we'll both go." "She hasn't seen Thunderclap for four days. She hasn't seen me jump the new post and rail, has she daddy?" She