found so fatally compelling. “I just called to leave my card and enquire if your wife was better.” Giving Grace her warmest smile, she added confidentially: “You didn’t miss much at the Bish’s dinner-party—your husband was the only redeeming feature.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll go!” said Grace, scooping up Sandy.
“No, I’ll answer it—”
“No, it’s all right, Neville—”
We collided in the doorway before Grace succeeded in escaping into the hall.
“I’m obviously causing chaos as usual,” said Dido. “I’ll leave at once.”
I realised I was still holding Sandy’s brick. It was bright red, the colour of violence, volcanic fire and Technicolor blood. It also matched Dido’s lipstick. Setting the brick down on the table with meticulous care, I somehow managed to say to Dido in my politest voice: “If you feel you must go, then I shan’t try to detain you, but I apologise if you’ve been made to feel unwelcome.”
“Oh no, your wife was charming! We got on terribly well!”
“Miss Tallent—”
“Oh, I do wish you’d stop calling me that! Why don’t you call me Dido, just as everyone else does?”
“I’m most flattered that you should wish to be on such friendly terms with me, but I’m afraid a clergyman has a duty to be formal towards a young lady he’s known less than twenty-four hours.”
“But I’m sure Jesus would have called me Dido without a second thought! He never bothered to be formal with the good-time girls!”
I opened my mouth to say coldly: “I fear I can only consider that remark to be in excessive bad taste,” but the words were never spoken. To my horror I realised I was smiling. “You’re outrageous!” I exclaimed in despair. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”
“But don’t you remember? You’re going to be my spiritual guide and write me uplifting letters!”
“But my dear Miss Tallent—”
“You didn’t think I was serious, did you? You didn’t think I meant what I said, but I swear to you I’m deeply in earnest and absolutely desperate. I know you think I’m stupid and frivolous and not worth bothering about, but—”
“Everyone’s worth bothering about. But don’t you think your local clergyman would be better placed than I am to give you the guidance you need?”
“That celibate fish? He’s only fit to be lightly grilled on both sides and served to the congregation with parsley sauce!”
I made a quick decision, the kind of quick decision capable administrators make, a cool practical decision untainted by emotional involvement. There was no doubt this girl was genuinely distressed and adrift. It seemed reasonable to suppose she was suffering from that particularly debilitating confusion which so often follows a severe bereavement: an appalled recognition of her own mortality and a consequent questioning of her way of life. With the right help this self-examination could lead to a vital spiritual growth. Who was I to regard her with such un-Christian cynicism because she had spent too many years as a mindless society girl? In a very real sense Dido’s tasteless comment about Jesus had hit the mark of truth. He would never have walked past her with his nose in the air, and since I was one of his followers neither should I.
Abruptly I altered course. “Very well,” I said, adopting a crisp authoritative tone. “If you honestly believe I can help you I’ll answer your letters—but on one condition. You must address me as ‘Archdeacon,’ I must address you as ‘Miss Tallent’ and our correspondence must be a model of propriety.”
“That’s three conditions, not one! But never mind, I accept them all with rapturous gratitude.” She smiled radiantly at me. “Goodbye, Archdeacon dear. I’m off to the post office to buy a large supply of stamps.” And leaving me wondering how on earth I could have been quite such a fool, she sailed triumphantly from the room.
3
“Why didn’t you tell
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll go!” said Grace, scooping up Sandy.
“No, I’ll answer it—”
“No, it’s all right, Neville—”
We collided in the doorway before Grace succeeded in escaping into the hall.
“I’m obviously causing chaos as usual,” said Dido. “I’ll leave at once.”
I realised I was still holding Sandy’s brick. It was bright red, the colour of violence, volcanic fire and Technicolor blood. It also matched Dido’s lipstick. Setting the brick down on the table with meticulous care, I somehow managed to say to Dido in my politest voice: “If you feel you must go, then I shan’t try to detain you, but I apologise if you’ve been made to feel unwelcome.”
“Oh no, your wife was charming! We got on terribly well!”
“Miss Tallent—”
“Oh, I do wish you’d stop calling me that! Why don’t you call me Dido, just as everyone else does?”
“I’m most flattered that you should wish to be on such friendly terms with me, but I’m afraid a clergyman has a duty to be formal towards a young lady he’s known less than twenty-four hours.”
“But I’m sure Jesus would have called me Dido without a second thought! He never bothered to be formal with the good-time girls!”
I opened my mouth to say coldly: “I fear I can only consider that remark to be in excessive bad taste,” but the words were never spoken. To my horror I realised I was smiling. “You’re outrageous!” I exclaimed in despair. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”
“But don’t you remember? You’re going to be my spiritual guide and write me uplifting letters!”
“But my dear Miss Tallent—”
“You didn’t think I was serious, did you? You didn’t think I meant what I said, but I swear to you I’m deeply in earnest and absolutely desperate. I know you think I’m stupid and frivolous and not worth bothering about, but—”
“Everyone’s worth bothering about. But don’t you think your local clergyman would be better placed than I am to give you the guidance you need?”
“That celibate fish? He’s only fit to be lightly grilled on both sides and served to the congregation with parsley sauce!”
I made a quick decision, the kind of quick decision capable administrators make, a cool practical decision untainted by emotional involvement. There was no doubt this girl was genuinely distressed and adrift. It seemed reasonable to suppose she was suffering from that particularly debilitating confusion which so often follows a severe bereavement: an appalled recognition of her own mortality and a consequent questioning of her way of life. With the right help this self-examination could lead to a vital spiritual growth. Who was I to regard her with such un-Christian cynicism because she had spent too many years as a mindless society girl? In a very real sense Dido’s tasteless comment about Jesus had hit the mark of truth. He would never have walked past her with his nose in the air, and since I was one of his followers neither should I.
Abruptly I altered course. “Very well,” I said, adopting a crisp authoritative tone. “If you honestly believe I can help you I’ll answer your letters—but on one condition. You must address me as ‘Archdeacon,’ I must address you as ‘Miss Tallent’ and our correspondence must be a model of propriety.”
“That’s three conditions, not one! But never mind, I accept them all with rapturous gratitude.” She smiled radiantly at me. “Goodbye, Archdeacon dear. I’m off to the post office to buy a large supply of stamps.” And leaving me wondering how on earth I could have been quite such a fool, she sailed triumphantly from the room.
3
“Why didn’t you tell
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