Henry Green - Nothing

"Never was good enough for Jane" Mr Abbot admitted with a show of reluctance.

"My dear Richard sometimes yon actually fish for compliments."

"I'm not, on my honour."

"Oh yes yon are and on this occasion you'll be unlucky. All I'll say is, yon may never recover from the shock of Jane Weatherby throwing you over and your life may be finished."

He laughed. "Oh well" he said.

"That's betters." She laughed. "So now what?"

"They don't look too cheerful at that do they?" he observed, watching the couple.

"Oh they won't find it all a bed of roses" she assured Mr Abbot. Upon which she saw Pascal hurry towards John Pomfret's table.

"Watch this!" Liz begged Dick Abbot.

"Don't stare too hard" Abbot implored.

"Ah Madame and Mr Pomfret" Pascal cried in his voice which did not travel beyond the table he addressed. "So great my pleasure to me Madame. It is so long since Madame and Monsieur lunch together here on this day like this."

" Pascall" Mrs Weatherby cried in turn and her tones carried so that one or two looked up from their meals near by. She reached a jewelled right hand across to where he stood bent forward and he took it. Her great eyes seemed to melt. "Why are all the happiest hours of my life bound up with you here Pascal?" she almost purred.

He bowed. "You are too kind" he said. "And is everything as you wish, Mrs Weatherby?"

"More than you'll ever know" she answered.

"Then can one hope?" the man began and paused to let go of her hand with a pleasing appearance of regret. "My English is still not so good" he went on. "Can we look forward to many of these luncheons with you and Mr Pomfret Madame?"

"I think so, yes Pascal" Jane beamed upon him.

"Because you understand it makes like old days to see Monsieur here again with Madame." At which he bowed once more and withdrew dexterously backwards with his startling gaze fixed on the lady as though he might never see another promise of heaven.

"Oh John I do feel very happy" Mrs Weatherby exclaimed in a low voice. John Pomfret could see tears in her eyes. "Oh darling isn't it nice that everyone cares about us?"

He smiled with evident affection. " Pascal knows" he announced.

"Of course he does!"

"But how Jane, so soon?"

"From my face naturally you great stupid" she laughed and got the mirror out of her bag to study her great eyes. Under the table he pressed Mrs Weatherby's ankles between his own. "Don't you think I look different? My dear my skin is a new woman's."

"Nonsense" he said lovingly "it always was."

"Oh I do sometimes thank God you're blind and I pray you'll keep so."

"My eyes are all right Jane."

"They're beautiful ones" she assured him "and beautifuller still while they don't know what they miss by staring at me with your particularly sweet expression."

"Why?" he asked with a smile and began to look about him. "Am I missing a lovely girl?"

She laughed and then she sighed. "There you go again, hopeless!" she said with great indulgence. "But I do love you so" she added. "Although you can tease me so dreafully!"

A FEW days later Philip Weatherby came back to the flat after work to find his mother alone over a finished cup of tea.

"I say Mamma" he began "what's this about Mary throwing up her job?"

"I wouldn't know dear. She never talks much to me."

"I thought Mr Pomfret might've mentioned, perhaps?"

"Philip" his mother said equably "when will you realize that John and I could have other topics besides Mary and yourself?"

"Sorry" he put in at once. "I just had a thought."

"Would you mind if she did?" Mrs Weatherby inquired in a lazy way.

"Be quite surprised that's all."

"Why?"

"I don't know really except our work does seriously mean something to us. Not like Mr Pomfret with his absolutely endless complaints every time you meet him."

"Perhaps he's been at his task longer dear" the mother said. "Anyway I do wish you wouldn't stay quite so critical of my friends as you've seemed to lately. What's come over you?"

"Am I being tiresome? I apologize. It's just that I don't appear to know what's going on around any more much. Nobody tells me a word nowadays."

"I do."

As he leaned against the fireplace he smiled down on her in what might have been a superior manner.

"Oh you're different" he assured Mrs Weatherby.

"But what makes you wonder about Mary throwing the job up when only a few weeks ago you stood there and told me you didn't care to marry the poor girl?"

"Did I go so far? I'd forgotten. I don't think I'd quite say it now Mamma."

"Well Philip for all your generation being so serious while we're just flighty in your eyes, you certainly seem to have more difficulty in making up your minds than we do."

"Oh come" he replied. "Are you fair? Couldn't it be at my age that one has more opportunities, and anyway we don't have your responsibility yet."

"Yes" she sighed "I expect you're right. I didn't mean to be nasty, Philip. Yet things do still happen to people my age you understand."

"They certainly would to you if you let them!"

"What are you insinuating now Philip?"

"Just that you look more like a sister than my mother. I bet you could marry again whenever you wanted."

"You're very sweet" she approved. "As a matter of fact, and I spoke of this before, I've a good memory and I remember it very well, I actually am about to marry again, so there you are."

She turned a radiant and delightfully embarrassed blushing smile on her son who said, "And I haven't forgotten the mess I fell into when I asked you who. I suppose I mustn't try to find out now?"

"To tell the utter truth Philip" she admitted "I was not quite straight with you then, just for the once. Darling you must please be glad but it's my angel John Pomfret."

"Well I say! Oh splendid! When's the ceremony to be?" he burst out, then a sort of cloud seemed to cross his face and his voice dropped. "But now look here Mamma will there be a double wedding? Would Mary like that?"

"She can have whatever she says" Mrs Weatherby said, steadfast.

"And Uncle Ned? Is he pleased?"

Jane moved smartly on the sofa to get a cigarette.

"I don't know and I couldn't care less Philip. Oh my dear boy do rid yourself, oh do, of this family complex!"

"I'm really sorry. I'll try and remember" he promised.

"All the more so when there are mercifully so few of them left" Mrs Weatherby added.

"That might be one of the principal reasons, you see" her son pointed out. "But never mind. I say though this is marvellous! Have you broken it to Pen yet?"

"Oh my dear promise me you won't so much as breathe a single word. D'you think I ought to get hold of some doctor to tell her, not Dr. Bogle of course? And Philip we ought even to speak of this now in whispers." She suited the action to the word. " Isabella listens at keyholes I'm almost certain, then tells Pen in an Italian only those two can understand, but isn't she simply miraculously clever, darling Penelope!"

He laughed. "I promise" he said.

"Don't you think it the most dreadful thing you've ever heard and in one's own house, each word noted down, but what can one do, she's such a marvellous cook dear and my little growing love does benefit so from that?"

"You know Mamma Isabella's English is far too bad."

"Don't you be sure while Pen's teaching the woman our sacred language all the time. Oh but we shall never get at the whole truth. I often think we're not here below to find that out ever, till I believe the truth's even stopped having any importance for me in the leash Which is not to say I go about all day telling lies myself, you're my witness! No I meant generally. But Philip darling do promise you are pleased over John?"

"Of course I am. And have you told Mary?"