“You must be referring to my platonic friend.” So, Grace, you’ll never believe. I’ve been to a private investigation concern and placed the matter in their hands.’
‘You must have more money than sense,’ Grace said.
‘I haven’t paid anything. They’re going ahead without any deposit. I told the man everything at least, as much as he needed to know. He seemed to be quite on my side.’
‘Someone will have to pay,’ said Grace, nodding wisely into the second fold of her neck. ‘If you get in the hands of a private eye someone’s got to pay through the nose.’ She wagged her forefinger and tapped her toe, pressing as many images of physiognomy into the scene as might bring reality Anthea’s way. ‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ she said. ‘I wasn’t Matron at Ambrose College for eighteen years without learning something about private investigation.’
‘Oh, no, Grace,’ Anthea said. ‘This has got to be done objectively by a firm of experts. I made up my mind and I did it. The person I saw was very understanding towards me, and very efficient. I had cold shivers at first but he grew on me, and I’ve promised to wait till he gets in touch with me.’
Grace mused, as she gathered up her shopping-bag and gloves and umbrella, ‘Nosey Parkers never hear any good of themselves.’
‘I only want the truth,’ said Anthea.
‘All this fuss,’ said Grace. ‘What’s marriage these days? It’s only a bit of paper. I’ve got to get back to Leo; he’s a hungry lad and if I’m not there to get his supper he sits around like a spray of deadly nightshade waiting for someone to pick it.’
Anthea watched the news on two channels while she ate her supper. Then she took up her library book, a novel comfortingly like the last novel she had read:
Matt and Joyce finished their supper in semi-silence. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to ask the vital question: had he got the job? Was it so vital, was anything so vital anyway?
If he had got the job he would have said so without her asking.
Matt got up and stacked the dishes. She followed him into the kitchen and ran the hot tap. What had there ever been between them? Had it all been an illusion? The rain poured outside. Mamie’s knickers and two of John’s pullovers were drying in the kitchen. She looked at the damp clothes and found no significance in them. Matt looked at the kitchen clock. ‘Half-past ten. I must have been late!’ he exclaimed.
‘You were late’ she remarked, slipping the dishes into the drying-rack.
Matt stood, unmoving.
‘Colin and Beryl rang,’ she sighed.
Anthea’s eyes drooped. And so to bed.
Chapter Four
‘I JUST TOLD HIM ’ Robert said, ‘to go to hell.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Lina said. That man is very important. Maybe he could get me a job. Perhaps he could help to find my father’s grave. You should ask him to accompany us to the cemetery—’
‘Oh, as to your father’s grave, he knows one thing about that he isn’t buried at San Michele. Curran might even have an idea where he’s buried. “Victor Pancev,” he said. He seems to have known your father away back in history.’
‘I have to meet with Curran,’ she said.
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary.’
‘I would like to ask him some questions.’
‘Curran,’ said Robert, ‘asks the questions, generally speaking. Or, to put it more precisely, he demands to know. All very politely, of course. Curran is a cultivated man.’
‘Could he get me a job?’
‘He could command you a job. Curran would believe he was God if he believed in God. All his life Curran has commanded the morning and caused the dayspring to know its place.’
‘It sounds crazy,’ she said. ‘Why do you boast about Curran to me? Do you boast about me to Curran?’
‘Yes, because you’re my first girl, and he knows it. And I told him to go to hell.’
‘Then why are you frightened?’
‘I’m not afraid of Curran.’
‘You’re afraid of
‘You must have more money than sense,’ Grace said.
‘I haven’t paid anything. They’re going ahead without any deposit. I told the man everything at least, as much as he needed to know. He seemed to be quite on my side.’
‘Someone will have to pay,’ said Grace, nodding wisely into the second fold of her neck. ‘If you get in the hands of a private eye someone’s got to pay through the nose.’ She wagged her forefinger and tapped her toe, pressing as many images of physiognomy into the scene as might bring reality Anthea’s way. ‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ she said. ‘I wasn’t Matron at Ambrose College for eighteen years without learning something about private investigation.’
‘Oh, no, Grace,’ Anthea said. ‘This has got to be done objectively by a firm of experts. I made up my mind and I did it. The person I saw was very understanding towards me, and very efficient. I had cold shivers at first but he grew on me, and I’ve promised to wait till he gets in touch with me.’
Grace mused, as she gathered up her shopping-bag and gloves and umbrella, ‘Nosey Parkers never hear any good of themselves.’
‘I only want the truth,’ said Anthea.
‘All this fuss,’ said Grace. ‘What’s marriage these days? It’s only a bit of paper. I’ve got to get back to Leo; he’s a hungry lad and if I’m not there to get his supper he sits around like a spray of deadly nightshade waiting for someone to pick it.’
Anthea watched the news on two channels while she ate her supper. Then she took up her library book, a novel comfortingly like the last novel she had read:
Matt and Joyce finished their supper in semi-silence. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to ask the vital question: had he got the job? Was it so vital, was anything so vital anyway?
If he had got the job he would have said so without her asking.
Matt got up and stacked the dishes. She followed him into the kitchen and ran the hot tap. What had there ever been between them? Had it all been an illusion? The rain poured outside. Mamie’s knickers and two of John’s pullovers were drying in the kitchen. She looked at the damp clothes and found no significance in them. Matt looked at the kitchen clock. ‘Half-past ten. I must have been late!’ he exclaimed.
‘You were late’ she remarked, slipping the dishes into the drying-rack.
Matt stood, unmoving.
‘Colin and Beryl rang,’ she sighed.
Anthea’s eyes drooped. And so to bed.
Chapter Four
‘I JUST TOLD HIM ’ Robert said, ‘to go to hell.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Lina said. That man is very important. Maybe he could get me a job. Perhaps he could help to find my father’s grave. You should ask him to accompany us to the cemetery—’
‘Oh, as to your father’s grave, he knows one thing about that he isn’t buried at San Michele. Curran might even have an idea where he’s buried. “Victor Pancev,” he said. He seems to have known your father away back in history.’
‘I have to meet with Curran,’ she said.
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary.’
‘I would like to ask him some questions.’
‘Curran,’ said Robert, ‘asks the questions, generally speaking. Or, to put it more precisely, he demands to know. All very politely, of course. Curran is a cultivated man.’
‘Could he get me a job?’
‘He could command you a job. Curran would believe he was God if he believed in God. All his life Curran has commanded the morning and caused the dayspring to know its place.’
‘It sounds crazy,’ she said. ‘Why do you boast about Curran to me? Do you boast about me to Curran?’
‘Yes, because you’re my first girl, and he knows it. And I told him to go to hell.’
‘Then why are you frightened?’
‘I’m not afraid of Curran.’
‘You’re afraid of
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