weekend?’
‘No.’
‘But there was something. … It’s the glass business, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said truthfully. ‘But for God’s sake, keep it to yourself. I shouldn’t have told you at all, really. I’ve never done anything like this before. …’
‘And I’m sure you’ll make a success of it,’ she said, pressing my hand. Her eyes were shining. ‘Oh, Nicolas, you fool you – you don’t have to pretend to me. And you don’t have to prove anything to me. You’re trying, and you’ve got him to give you this chance. That’s what counts – your attitude to it. Can’t you see that, Nicolas?’
I gazed at her with the shocked but dull resignation of some elderly beast after an unsuccessful attempt with the humane killer.
‘It’s not quite like that, Maura. Don’t bank on anything concrete coming out of it. …’
‘I’m not banking on anyone but you, Nicolas, dearest. I’ve got complete faith in you, my darling.’
There was rather more than the normal quota of endearments here and embarrassment was added to my ruined condition. I pressed her hand silendy.
‘Your mother will be delighted to hear the news.’ She knew I was going to Bournemouth over the weekend. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, I suppose?’
This seemed doubtful. If I did go off on Tuesday there would doubtless be many essential preliminaries to tie me up on the Monday. My head, which had eased a little when I sat down, now began to throb again. I said wearily, ‘I’m not dead sure when I’m going off on – on this thing. It could be Monday or Tuesday. I’ll have to get in touch with you.’
‘Monday or Tuesday!’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘Is it so urgent? So silly little Nicolas had to go out and get tight to tell me. …Silly little Nicolas,’ she said softly, with love, brushing my mouth with her hand.
Too wrecked by the events of the day to fall in with this sort of talk easily, I could only smile like a silly little Nicolas. The attempt cannot have been successful. Maura showed immediate concern.
‘Oh, Nicolas, you’re looking terrible. You’d better get off to bed.’
The car was where I had left it in the side street next to the Princess May. I drove Maura home and made to kiss her briefly. She grasped me in a close, love-communicating hug that jarred my head and made me grit my teeth.
I drove home slowly and left the car without covers and walked upstairs, holding my head. The divan waited solidly in the darkening room, and I embraced it with a muted groan. Almost at once, sleep, like some rhythmical, snoring vacuum cleaner, consumed the awful day.
4
Saturday was hot, and I was up early and unrested with that glazed efficiency of movement that often follows a drinking session. I ate breakfast, and shortly regretted it, and by nine o’clock was on the road, trembling all over with a nerveless and unidentifiable feeling of apprehension.
Somewhere around Winchester with its chain groceries and post office vans, however, the apprehension began to diminish and I even felt a slight accession of confidence. The events of the past few days, it was a fact, were no more insane than the previous reality of life with the Little Swine. Through the New Forest the road was sun-dappled, and I sang a little, cautiously.
In my mother’s presence, I thought, I would see the proposition for the grotesque and unthinkable nonsense that it was. Maminka, faery of vision though she might be, was at least a constant in my life. The young man of affairs I knew about and could cope with. The young secret agent, never. Let him, this Cunliffe, just try and take the car, I thought. Let him just try.In the freshness of the morning, with the tree shadows falling hypnotically across the bonnet, I abandoned Cunliffe; abandoned Maura, too, and every other complication, and felt free as any bird. Who was Maura? I thought. And who the, who the, who the, I sang as the tree shadows fell rhythmically across the bonnet, who the hell was
‘No.’
‘But there was something. … It’s the glass business, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said truthfully. ‘But for God’s sake, keep it to yourself. I shouldn’t have told you at all, really. I’ve never done anything like this before. …’
‘And I’m sure you’ll make a success of it,’ she said, pressing my hand. Her eyes were shining. ‘Oh, Nicolas, you fool you – you don’t have to pretend to me. And you don’t have to prove anything to me. You’re trying, and you’ve got him to give you this chance. That’s what counts – your attitude to it. Can’t you see that, Nicolas?’
I gazed at her with the shocked but dull resignation of some elderly beast after an unsuccessful attempt with the humane killer.
‘It’s not quite like that, Maura. Don’t bank on anything concrete coming out of it. …’
‘I’m not banking on anyone but you, Nicolas, dearest. I’ve got complete faith in you, my darling.’
There was rather more than the normal quota of endearments here and embarrassment was added to my ruined condition. I pressed her hand silendy.
‘Your mother will be delighted to hear the news.’ She knew I was going to Bournemouth over the weekend. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, I suppose?’
This seemed doubtful. If I did go off on Tuesday there would doubtless be many essential preliminaries to tie me up on the Monday. My head, which had eased a little when I sat down, now began to throb again. I said wearily, ‘I’m not dead sure when I’m going off on – on this thing. It could be Monday or Tuesday. I’ll have to get in touch with you.’
‘Monday or Tuesday!’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘Is it so urgent? So silly little Nicolas had to go out and get tight to tell me. …Silly little Nicolas,’ she said softly, with love, brushing my mouth with her hand.
Too wrecked by the events of the day to fall in with this sort of talk easily, I could only smile like a silly little Nicolas. The attempt cannot have been successful. Maura showed immediate concern.
‘Oh, Nicolas, you’re looking terrible. You’d better get off to bed.’
The car was where I had left it in the side street next to the Princess May. I drove Maura home and made to kiss her briefly. She grasped me in a close, love-communicating hug that jarred my head and made me grit my teeth.
I drove home slowly and left the car without covers and walked upstairs, holding my head. The divan waited solidly in the darkening room, and I embraced it with a muted groan. Almost at once, sleep, like some rhythmical, snoring vacuum cleaner, consumed the awful day.
4
Saturday was hot, and I was up early and unrested with that glazed efficiency of movement that often follows a drinking session. I ate breakfast, and shortly regretted it, and by nine o’clock was on the road, trembling all over with a nerveless and unidentifiable feeling of apprehension.
Somewhere around Winchester with its chain groceries and post office vans, however, the apprehension began to diminish and I even felt a slight accession of confidence. The events of the past few days, it was a fact, were no more insane than the previous reality of life with the Little Swine. Through the New Forest the road was sun-dappled, and I sang a little, cautiously.
In my mother’s presence, I thought, I would see the proposition for the grotesque and unthinkable nonsense that it was. Maminka, faery of vision though she might be, was at least a constant in my life. The young man of affairs I knew about and could cope with. The young secret agent, never. Let him, this Cunliffe, just try and take the car, I thought. Let him just try.In the freshness of the morning, with the tree shadows falling hypnotically across the bonnet, I abandoned Cunliffe; abandoned Maura, too, and every other complication, and felt free as any bird. Who was Maura? I thought. And who the, who the, who the, I sang as the tree shadows fell rhythmically across the bonnet, who the hell was
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