Henry Green - Loving, Living, Party Going

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Henry Green, whom W. H. Auden called 'the finest living English novelist', is the most neglected writer of the last century and the one most deserving of rediscovery by a new generation. This volume brings together three of Henry Green's intensely original novels.
Loving
Living
Party Going

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This map was peculiar. For instance Kinalty Church was represented by a miniature painting of its tower and steeple while the Castle, which was set right in the centre, was a fair sized caricature in exaggerated Gothic. There were no names against places.

As Charley stood there it so happened that the pointer was fixed unwavering E.S.E. with the arrow tip exactly on Clancarty, Clancarty which was indicated by two nude figures male and female recumbent in gold crowns. For the artist had been told the place was a home of the old kings.

Mrs Jack came in looking for a letter from Dermot. The carpets were so deep Raunce did not hear her. He was staring. She noticed he seemed obsessed by the weathervane and turned to find what in particular held him.

When she saw and thought she knew she drew breath with a hiss.

‘Raunce,’ she said and he had never heard her speak so sharp, ‘what is it?’

He faced about, holding himself quite still.

‘Why Madam I never heard you. The thing seems to have got stuck Madam.’

‘Stuck? What d’you mean stuck?’

‘It does not seem to be revolving Madam, and I’m sure the wind is not in that quarter.’

She reacted at once. She strode up to that arrow and gave it a wild tug presumably to drag the pointer away from those now disgusting people lying there in a position which, only before she had known Dermot, she had once or twice laughed at to her husband. The arrow snapped off in her hand. The vane up top might have been held in a stiff breeze or something could have jammed it.

Charley knew nothing as yet about Clancarty. ‘It’s the spring Madam,’ he said cheerful as he took that broken piece from her. ‘You noticed the arm did not have any give Madam?’

‘Oh get on with your work,’ she said appearing to lose control and half ran out. Shaking his head, grumbling to himself, Raunce made his way upstairs.

He made his way smooth down the Long Passage until he found one of the girls. It was Edith opposite Mrs Jack’s chamber, doing out this lady’s bathroom.

‘Hello ducks,’ he whispered.

‘What brings you here?’ she asked as soft.

‘Who d’you think?’ he answered.

‘Get on with you,’ she said.

‘Look it’s like this,’ he began. ‘This weathervane now. Where’s the old works? I mean behind a little door or suchlike there must be a spring to do with some clockwork. At least that’s what I’m led to understand.’

She looked disappointed.

‘Behind a little door there’s clockwork? Whatever’s that?’ she enquired.

‘Don’t ask me but Mr Eldon’s left a book of directions which makes mention. Here,’ he said, ‘give us a kiss.’ She said no as though she had been waiting to say this. She backed away against sweet primrose tiles. ‘No,’ she repeated quite loud and decided.

‘Whatever’s the matter with you these days?’ he asked.

‘I’m fed up I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘No need to take it out on me is there? What’s up?’

‘It’s the war most likely,’ she said pouting ‘I shall have to get me out of this old place.’

‘You don’t want to talk like that my girl. Why we’re on a good thing here all of us. Trust Uncle Charley, he’s seen some. There’s a war on, the other side. You don’t want none of it do you? And there’s the grub question. You got to consider that. About this weathervane now. I’ll have to find the other one of you then, that’s the only thing left for me to do.’ He leered at her. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded.

Edith looked sideways as though embarrassed but she told him.

‘Next door in Mrs Tennant’s bathroom,’ she said.

He whipped out and along that passage. He looked in the next open door. Against deep blue tiles Kate with her doll’s face and tow hair was rearranging a scarlet bathrobe on the chromium towel horse. Edith had followed. But where he went in she stayed by the door, through which she watched as though reluctant.

He slipped up behind Kate, put his palms over her eyes.

‘Guess baby,’ he said, still whispering.

She gave a great screech beneath her breath, so discreetly she hardly made a sound.

‘Why Charley you did give me a start’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘but I can’t seem to bring it off these days. See here,’ he went on, hands still over her eyes, ‘where’s there a kind of box in the wall with clockwork inside to do with that weather-vane?’

She stood quiet, seemed almost to press her face into his palms. But she let out a giggle at the question.

‘Oh my,’ she said, ‘what next?’

‘Come on,’ he said murmuring yet, ‘give us a kiss,’ as he turned her. And while he heartily kissed Kate’s mouth her right eye winked at Edith under one of his outstanding ears.

Charley straightened himself at last, passed a forefinger over his lips. At once Edith said as though she could hear somebody. ‘It’s this way Mr Raunce.’

He came smoothly out, automatic. She led him along. Neither looked back. Soon she stopped at a panel with a button. She opened it. He put his head forward to peer. He saw two shafts which met to be joined by three gear wheels interlocked. And caught between those teeth, held by the leg was a live mouse.

At this Edith let a shriek with the full force of her lungs. A silence of horror fell.

Then even over the rustle of Kate hurrying up a paper-thin scream came as if in answer from between the wheels. And as Raunce looked for the person Edith said she had heard and except for Kate not a soul appeared, not one, Edith fainted slap into his arms.

After a moment Miss Burch came bustling towards them. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, ‘and what trick have you played on that poor girl now? Let go of her this instant goodness gracious whoever heard,’ she said to Raunce and taking Edith, stretched her rather rough on the floor.

That same afternoon after dinner Miss Burch paid a call on Mrs Welch, slipping from the servants’ hall out through the vast scullery straight into her kitchen.

‘Come right in,’ Mrs Welch welcomed from where she was seated concentrating over the opened notebook. ‘Jane,’ she called, ‘Miss Burch will have a cup of tea.’

‘Why thanking you,’ Miss Burch said, ‘and is this Albert?’

‘Yes this is Albert,’ Mrs Welch replied. ‘Get up when you’re spoken of,’ she added and the boy stood He had been crying. ‘Come to think of it,’ she went on, ‘run out now and don’t get in the way of my girls at their work nor into any more trouble my word.’

‘Trouble,’ Miss Burch remarked once they were alone as she stirred with a teaspoon, ‘trouble. This morning’s just been one long worry an’ what it’s going to come to I don’t know.’ There was no reply. Miss Burch watched steam from off her tea.

‘I don’t know I’m sure,’ she continued eventually, ‘but it’s him or me that’s the long and short of the whole matter. We can’t go on like it and that’s a fact,’ she said.

‘A large big bird like that,’ Mrs Welch insisted, ‘and with a powerful wallop in each wing. Why ‘e might’ve got killed the little terror.’

‘Killed?’ Miss Burch asked, giving way. ‘I hope he’s not gone and had an accident on his very first day at the Castle?’

‘Children is all little ‘Itlers these days,’ Mrs Welch answered. ‘D’you know what ‘e done. Up and throttled one of them peacocks with ‘is bare hands not ‘alf an hour after he got in. Yes that’s what,’ she said.

‘Oh dear,’ Miss Burch said, ‘one of the peacocks?’

‘I got’m covered up in the larder,’ Mrs Welch went on. ‘I’ll choose my time to bury’m away at dusk. He might’ve been killed easy. I ‘adn’t turned my back not above two minutes to get on with their luncheon when I heard a kind of squawking. I ran to that window and there ‘e was with one in ‘is two fists. Oh I screamed out but ‘e ‘ad it about finished the little storm trooper. There wasn’t nothing left to do but ‘ide the dead body away from that mad Irish Conor.’

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