host. The dinner was as good as I could have hoped, although I could manage very little of it. Charlie and Julia ate heartily, and in Julia’s case with enormous pantomimes of appreciation. As I cleared the table and went to get the coffee Charlie held the door open for me, and said, very quietly, ‘All right, my dear?’ I nodded, touched, and felt a little warmth creep into my half-numb face.
That was the beginning of our friendship, ‘for we are not going to let you go now,’ said Julia, who was obviously fretting at the loss of her public. She was fifty, a difficult age for letting go, still young enough to have ambitions and desires but with fewer opportunities of satisfying either. Owen was delighted with the evening, and Charlie gave the impression of being happy whenever his wife was happy. I decided that he must be exceptionally good-natured to act as her foil in the way that he did: there was something so gallant in that, I thought, as I thankfully prepared for bed. I took off my make-up without even looking at my face, which was an indication of the tiredness I felt. But even as I slipped into that wonderful half-dream that announces sleep I realized that my headache had quite gone.
FIVE
JULIA WAS A DEDICATED WOMAN . She was dedicated principally to herself, but that did not seem to lessen her charm, which was powerful if capricious. I know now that inside every one of us there is another self, wistful, wary, uncertain, but also cruel and subversive, a stranger who can respond to any suggestion, any impulse, whether wise or unwise, though it is usually the latter. In Julia’s case this other self seemed to be absent: she was the same, from her polished outward appearance to her ironic inner heart. I never knew a woman so little given to self-doubt or self-questioning. If she thought a thing she said it, and if she wanted to do something she did it. She was impervious to remorse, for in her eyes her desires were always justified. I sensed in her a will as hard as her heart, although she was kind in an absent-minded fashion. But if her kindness was absent-minded it was nevertheless designed to serve her purpose. After flattering attention to oneself she would signify the end of this particular phase of the conversationby asking one, negligently, to perform some small but onerous service. ‘You’re so clever with food,’ she once said to me. ‘What should I get for Charlie’s dinner tonight? What was that delicious vegetable thing I had at your house?’
‘That was
ratatouille
, Julia. It’s very simple, but it takes a little time. I’d bring you some if I had some made.’
‘Too sweet of you, but you must remember I’m a housewife now. Come along, Wilberforce! Pencil and paper. Can you see my pencil anywhere? Over there, perhaps, under the
Tatler
.’
She adjusted a pair of spectacles which hung on a chain round her neck.
‘Now! What do I need?’
‘You need tomatoes, aubergines, courgettes …’
The glasses were removed.
‘Don’t go on. I haven’t got any of those things. And I couldn’t possibly carry them, with my poor hands.’
She flexed her narrow chalky hands, which were beginning to get stiff.
‘The next time you buy these things, Fay, could you possibly get a few for me? Then you can come and show me how to cook them.’
‘I suppose it would be simpler if I gave you some of my own, when I next make it.’
‘Yes, that might be best. What a lovely idea!’
The subject was closed.
‘But what about Charlie’s dinner?’ I said.
‘Oh, he can have an omelette. It’s what he usually has. Now I’ve never been able to like eggs. Funny, isn’t it? I find them incredibly boring. Eggs and avocados. Whereas I can eat all kinds of shellfish and sleep like a baby afterwards. I remember a very grand dinner party in New York once: our ambassador was there. The first course was prawns andavocados. So silly. Why ruin prawns? I ate mine and gave the avocado to the ambassador. My
That was the beginning of our friendship, ‘for we are not going to let you go now,’ said Julia, who was obviously fretting at the loss of her public. She was fifty, a difficult age for letting go, still young enough to have ambitions and desires but with fewer opportunities of satisfying either. Owen was delighted with the evening, and Charlie gave the impression of being happy whenever his wife was happy. I decided that he must be exceptionally good-natured to act as her foil in the way that he did: there was something so gallant in that, I thought, as I thankfully prepared for bed. I took off my make-up without even looking at my face, which was an indication of the tiredness I felt. But even as I slipped into that wonderful half-dream that announces sleep I realized that my headache had quite gone.
FIVE
JULIA WAS A DEDICATED WOMAN . She was dedicated principally to herself, but that did not seem to lessen her charm, which was powerful if capricious. I know now that inside every one of us there is another self, wistful, wary, uncertain, but also cruel and subversive, a stranger who can respond to any suggestion, any impulse, whether wise or unwise, though it is usually the latter. In Julia’s case this other self seemed to be absent: she was the same, from her polished outward appearance to her ironic inner heart. I never knew a woman so little given to self-doubt or self-questioning. If she thought a thing she said it, and if she wanted to do something she did it. She was impervious to remorse, for in her eyes her desires were always justified. I sensed in her a will as hard as her heart, although she was kind in an absent-minded fashion. But if her kindness was absent-minded it was nevertheless designed to serve her purpose. After flattering attention to oneself she would signify the end of this particular phase of the conversationby asking one, negligently, to perform some small but onerous service. ‘You’re so clever with food,’ she once said to me. ‘What should I get for Charlie’s dinner tonight? What was that delicious vegetable thing I had at your house?’
‘That was
ratatouille
, Julia. It’s very simple, but it takes a little time. I’d bring you some if I had some made.’
‘Too sweet of you, but you must remember I’m a housewife now. Come along, Wilberforce! Pencil and paper. Can you see my pencil anywhere? Over there, perhaps, under the
Tatler
.’
She adjusted a pair of spectacles which hung on a chain round her neck.
‘Now! What do I need?’
‘You need tomatoes, aubergines, courgettes …’
The glasses were removed.
‘Don’t go on. I haven’t got any of those things. And I couldn’t possibly carry them, with my poor hands.’
She flexed her narrow chalky hands, which were beginning to get stiff.
‘The next time you buy these things, Fay, could you possibly get a few for me? Then you can come and show me how to cook them.’
‘I suppose it would be simpler if I gave you some of my own, when I next make it.’
‘Yes, that might be best. What a lovely idea!’
The subject was closed.
‘But what about Charlie’s dinner?’ I said.
‘Oh, he can have an omelette. It’s what he usually has. Now I’ve never been able to like eggs. Funny, isn’t it? I find them incredibly boring. Eggs and avocados. Whereas I can eat all kinds of shellfish and sleep like a baby afterwards. I remember a very grand dinner party in New York once: our ambassador was there. The first course was prawns andavocados. So silly. Why ruin prawns? I ate mine and gave the avocado to the ambassador. My
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