Henry Green - Loving, Living, Party Going

At this poor Auntie May shifted slightly in her bed.

‘My dear, what are we to do with her?’ Evelyn put a finger to her lips, but Claire went on. ‘I don’t care,’ she said, ‘she must get well, it’s too absurd her being ill here, letting that idiot doctor say fantastic things about her, even if they might be true. Why are the old allowed to go about alone; they ought to make a law about it. What would have happened to her if we had not been there and Max, he is so perfectly sweet, hadn’t taken this room? But it’s unfair to him if she doesn’t get well soon or get over it, whichever it is, or both,’ she said.

And Auntie May, half-way round from another spell of what had come over her and struck her down into nightmares and exhaustion and wandering so that she had been diagnosed as tight, and tight she was with dreams spoke up from mists which wrapped her round not sweet and warm. She mistook her niece for another barmaid, and Said in a high wavering voice:

‘I’m surprised at you, surprised I am,’ she said, ‘you should be glad I came in and gave you custom, a customer I came in, that’s what you are here for, here for,’ she said, and was silent. ‘I shall complain,’ she said, trying to. raise herself on her arm, and Claire leaned forward and said: ‘Hush, auntie, you don’t know what you are saying.’ This silenced her again.

‘Claire, d’you suppose she heard us?’

‘What on earth do you mean? My dear, she is raving. Oh, why did she come to be such a worry to us, isn’t it a shame?’

‘You mean she thought she was talking to a waitress,’ Evelyn said. ‘But you know it is so dangerous to speak in front of people when they are ill, you think they can’t hear, but one can never tell. I remember my mother telling me when Grannie died the nurse said she had only so long to live, ten hours, or whatever it was then, and she said, “Don’t,” just like that. And that was after she had lain there like a log for two days and nights.’

‘Well then,’ Claire whispered, ‘don’t talk in front of her.’

‘Oh,’ said Evelyn, also in whispers now, ‘but she is not going to die, is she?’

‘My dear, don’t you of all people go and let me down. I’ve trouble enough on my hands now in all conscience without — oh well,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry, it’s not easy just now, is it? And where’s that wretched husband of mine, why doesn’t he do something?’

‘But surely that’s just it,’ said Evelyn, ‘there’s nothing to do.’

Thomson, who was still looking after Julia’s luggage where it had been left until it could be registered, felt he must stretch his legs again. He said to her porter: ‘Jack, I’ll be back,’ and came out from behind her barricade of trunks to find Edwards sitting on one of Max’s suit-cases.

‘Mr Adey, I believe,’ he said, and raised his hat.

‘Mr Livingstone, I presume, Miss Wray,’ said Edwards. They both of them laughed. Thomson sat down on yet another pigskin case and said what game was it this they were playing? and he got his answer, hide and seek. Oranges and lemons he suggested was more likely, but no, said Edwards, sardines was all the rage now not blind bloody man’s buff, which was kept for Dartmoor Sunday afternoons. Both laughed again.

‘Well,’ Thomson said, ‘it was a funny game whatever it was, and even if it had not got a name, it was more like drivers waiting outside shops or at dances.’ He asked if Edwards had had his tea. Neither had so much as tasted it this afternoon. Edwards had some chocolate in bars which he called iron rations, but he explained he did not want to touch that, not knowing but what they might be here all night when they might want something more urgent, for even if it had been three hours or more since their dinner it might be long night before they saw supper. Thomson said he was not going to wait all that long time, and Edwards asked him why he did not go along and see if he could get himself something. Thomson explained it did not taste like it should if he had his tea alone, he liked company with it, and why didn’t Edwards come along and see what they could find? But Edwards considered they would find every tea place full. Also he would not leave this dressing-case of his.

‘Then what’s in it?’

‘It’s fitted.’

‘What, gold and silver stoppers and all that? Come on, it’s insured and chances are he’d like a new one.’

‘Go on if you like and pick up some bird, alive or dead, Thomson, and get yourself your cup o’ tea if you feel like it.’

‘What d’you mean, alive or dead?’

‘Not but you’ll find everything full and more than full out there. There’s trouble enough to get in without trying for a cup o’ tea. Alive or dead? I meant nothing.’

‘Not wrapped up in brown paper you didn’t?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Oh, nothing. This is a rum thing this party. And they call it pleasure, eh?’

‘I don’t know. It’s not their business if fog comes down like it’s done, they can’t be accountable for that.’

‘No, but then why stay here or in that hotel, why not go back and sit down to a nice tea while you wait?’

‘It’s plain to see you haven’t been outside, my lad, not lately. You couldn’t get back now if you tried.’

‘Oh, look at those blue eyes,’ Thomson said, and Mr Adey’s porter lifted his heavy head. Round one massive up-ended cabin trunk a girl was looking. ‘Lovely blue eyes, and I like that nose.’

Edwards said: ‘Now then, don’t let’s have anything like that here.’

‘Anything?’ said Thomson. ‘Did you ‘ear what that rude man called it, a lovely kiss?’ he said, still sitting where he did. ‘What a thing to call it. Listen, if that gentleman with the luggage will drop off again like he ‘as been doing this last thirty minutes and my pal here turns his dirty disapproving face, will you give us a kiss, darling? There’s none could see with these bags and things.’

‘I like your cheek,’ she said scornfully. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘if you want one,’ and crept round and kissed him on his mouth. Not believing his luck he put his arms round her and the porter said, ‘God bless me,’ when a voice over that barricade began calling: ‘Emily, where are you, Emily?’ and he let her go, and off she went.

‘God bless ‘er little ‘eart,’ the porter said, smacking his lips. He called out to his mate, having to shout it there was so much noise: ‘Come up out of the bloody ground, and gave him a great bloody kiss when he asked her.’

‘Poor Thomson,’ Julia said just then to Max, putting on her hat again, ‘d’you think he’s all right, and what about his tea?’

‘We ought to go down,’ he said.

‘Yes, the others will be wondering what’s become of us.’ And what had become of both of them, she asked herself, suddenly despairing; nothing, alas!

‘Oh, Max,’ she said, ‘everything is going to be all right, isn’t it?’

‘All right?’

‘Do you see, I’m wondering about this journey. All the fog and all that,’ she said, leading him off.

‘You do think our train will run, don’t you?’ she went on.

‘It’ll have to.’

‘I know,’ she said, ‘but things don’t always go right because they have to. I wonder if I ought to ring my uncle and let him know what’s become of us,’ she said, because she was not and could not be sure Max would come to anything in the South of France. ‘D’you think I’d better. Max darling, do say something. What do you think?’

He looked at the telephone and considered and at last he told her he saw no point in doing so. And now she remembered those two birds which had flown under the arch she had been on when she had started, and now she forgot they were sea-gulls and thought they had been doves and so was comforted.