Джон Пристли - The Doomsday Men

Jimmy had nearly finished his picture of the ranch, and it might as well be said at once that it was one of his more characteristic creations, a genuine horror in pigment, which firmly set the ranch and its valley in the very centre of some metallic hell, with acid greens and poisonous pinks and yellows that were like acute attacks of bilious headache. He glanced up from this monster to the approaching Rosalie Atwood, who was looking more of a bright-eyed peach than ever, and took his pipe out of his mouth to give her a grin; but it was, she noticed at once, an anxious grin, and she wondered unhappily if she was a nuisance.

Before she could speak, however, he got up and stepped back a few paces and beckoned her to his side, so that she would see the canvas from a proper distance.

“Well,” he said hoarsely, “what do you think of it?”

But he had hardly time to ask before she was exclaiming, obviously without any need of prompting: “Why, Jimmy, it’s lovely.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do,” she told him indignantly. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s really beautiful. I never imagined you could do anything like that.” And she moved away a few steps, to look at it from another angle.

Great Christopher, what a woman! He moved across to her masterfully. “If you like that, what about this, Rosalie?”

“I like that too,” she cried, as best she could, for there was not much room, so masterfully had she been enfolded. “And here’s one for you. No, no, please, Jimmy. Let me go. No more now. Yes, of course I do, you silly. But let me go-somebody’s coming.” There wasn’t, but now she was free, and stood at a reasonably safe distance, and tried to look reproachful. “A nice way to behave!” But she couldn’t stop her eyes dancing at him. “What do you think you’re doing, Jimmy?”

Jimmy put on one of his more aggressive looks. “Finishing this picture, and when it’s done, you’ll have it and you’ll like it. And then, you’ll marry me and you’ll like it.”

“Jimmy! And did I tell you about Andrea and Malcolm-?”

“No, but I can see them down there, thinking they’re in the garden of Eden. And I can see Hooker getting all excited explaining something to that chap with the beard. And I know you’re there, just bursting to ask me fifty thousand questions-”

“Well, who wouldn’t be?”

“And,” continued Jimmy firmly, “I’m not bothering my head about any of you for the next ten minutes. I’ve had my adventures. The world’s not done with yet. We’re still alive and kicking. So just be quiet while I finish this job.”

But he gave her a wink, and she replied with a smile, and as he returned to his painting, she stared dreamily down at the other four below, at the quiet valley trembling in the heat of noon, at the peaks of enduring rock, shining in the sunlight.

THE END

John Boynton Priestley was born in 1894 in Yorkshire, the son of a schoolmaster. After leaving Belle Vue School when he was 16, he worked in a wool office but was already by this time determined to become a writer. He volunteered for the army in 1914 during the First World War and served five years; on his return home, he attended university and wrote articles for the Yorkshire Observer . After graduating, he established himself in London, writing essays, reviews, and other nonfiction, and publishing several miscellaneous volumes. In 1927 his first two novels appeared, Adam in Moonshine and Benighted , which was the basis for James Whale’s film The Old Dark House (1932). In 1929 Priestley scored his first major critical success as a novelist, winning the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for The Good Companions . Angel Pavement (1930) followed and was also extremely well received. Throughout the next several decades, Priestley published numerous novels, many of them very popular and successful, including Bright Day (1946) and Lost Empires (1965), and was also a prolific and highly regarded playwright.

Priestley died in 1984, and though his plays have continued to be published and performed since his death, much of his fiction has unfortunately fallen into obscurity. Valancourt Books is in the process of reprinting many of J. B. Priestley’s best works of fiction with the aim of allowing a new generation of readers to discover this unjustly neglected author’s books.