Evelyn Waugh - Decline and Fall

Eventually Margot came herself.

It was the first time they had met since the morning in June when she had sent him off to rescue her distressed protégées in Marseilles. The meeting took place in a small room set aside for visitors. Margot sat at one end of the table, Paul at the other, with a warder between them.

'I must ask you both to put your hands on the table in front of you, said the warder.

'Like Up Jenkins, said Margot faintly, laying her exquisitely manicured hands with the gloves beside her bag. Paul for the first time noticed how coarse and ill‑kept his hands had become. For a moment neither spoke.

'Do I look awful? Paul said at last. 'I haven't seen a looking‑glass for some time.

'Well, perhaps just a little mal soigné, darling. Don't they let you shave at all?

'No discussion of the prison regime is permitted. Prisoners are allowed to make a plain statement of their state of health but must on no account make complaints or comments upon their general condition.

'O dear! said Margot; 'this is going to be very difficult. What are we to say to each other? I'm almost sorry I came. You are glad I came, aren't you?

'Don't mind me, mum, if you wants to talk personal, said the warder kindly. 'I only has to stop conspiracy. Nothing I hears ever goes any farther, and I hears a good deal, I can tell you. They carry on awful, some of the women, what with crying and fainting and hysterics generally. Why, one of them, he said with relish, 'had an epileptic fit not long ago.

'I think it's more than likely I shall have a fit, said Margot. 'I've never felt so shy in my life. Paul, do say something, please.

'How's Alastair? said Paul.

'Rather sweet, really. He's always at King's Thursday now. I like him.

Another pause.

'Do you know, said Margot, 'it's an odd thing, but I do believe that after all these years I'm beginning to be regarded as no longer a respectable woman. I told you when I wrote, didn't I, that Lady Circumference cut me the other day? Of course she's just a thoroughly bad-mannered old woman, but there have been a whole lot of things rather like that lately. Don't you think it's rather awful?

'You won't mind much, will you? said Paul. 'They're awful old bores, anyway.

'Yes, but I don't like them dropping me . Of course, I don't mind, really, but I think it's just a pity, particularly for Peter. It's not just Lady Circumference, but Lady Vanburgh and Fanny Simpleforth and the Stayles and all those people. It's a pity it should happen just when Peter's beginning to be a little class-conscious, anyway. It'll give him all the wrong ideas, don't you think?

'How's business? asked Paul abruptly.

'Paul, you mustn't be nasty to me, said Margot in a low voice. 'I don't think you'd say that if you knew quite how I was feeling.

'I'm sorry, Margot. As a matter of fact, I just wanted to know.

'I'm selling out. A Swiss firm was making things difficult. But I don't think that business has anything to do with the ‑ the ostracism, as Maltravers would say. I believe it's all because I'm beginning to grow old.

'I never heard anything so ridiculous. Why, all those people are about eighty, and anyway, you aren't at all.

'I was afraid you wouldn't understand, said Margot, and there was another pause.

'Ten minutes more, said the warder.

'Things haven't turned out quite as we expected them to, have they? said Margot.

They talked about some parties Margot had been to and the books Paul was reading. At last Margot said: 'Paul, I'm going. I simply can't stand another moment of this.

'It was nice of you to come, said Paul.

'I've decided something rather important, said Margot, 'just this minute. I am going to be married quite soon to Maltraven. I'm sorry, but I am.

'I suppose it's because I look so awful? said Paul.

'No, it's just everything. It's that, too, in a way, but not the way you mean, Paul. It's simply something that's going to happen. Do you understand at all, dear? It may help you, too, in a way, but I don't want you to think that that's the reason, either. It's just how things are going to happen. Oh dear! How difficult it is to say anything.

'If you should want to kiss good‑bye, said the gaoler, 'not being husband and wife, it's not usual. Still, I don't mind stretching a point for once…

'Oh, God! said Margot, and left the room without looking back.

Paul returned to his cell. His supper had already been served out to him, a small pie from which protruded the feet of two pigeons; there was even a table‑napkin wrapped round it. But Paul had very little appetite, for he was greatly pained at how little he was pained by the events of the afternoon.

A day or two later Paul found himself next to Grimes in the quarry. When the warder was out of earshot Grimes said: 'Old boy, I can't stand this much longer. It just ain't good enough.

'I don't see any way out, said Paul. 'Anyway, it's quite bearable. I'd as soon be here as at Llanabba.

'Not so Grimes, said Grimes. 'He just languishes in captivity, like the lark. It's all right for you ‑ you like reading and thinking and all that. Well, I'm different, you know. I like drink and a bit of fun, and chatting now and then to my pals. I'm a sociable chap. It's turning me into a giddy machine, this life, and there's an awful chaplain, who gives me the pip, who keeps butting in in a breezy kind of way and asking if I feel I'm "right with God". Of course I'm not, and I tell him so. I can stand most sorts of misfortune, old boy, but I can't stand repression. That was what broke me up at Llanabba, and it's what going to break me up here, if I don't look out for myself. It seems to me it's time Grimes flitted off to another clime.

'No one has ever succeeded in escaping from this prison, said Paul.

'Well, just you watch next time there's a fog!

As luck would have it, there was a fog next day, a heavy impenetrable white mist which came up quite suddenly while they were at work, enveloping men and quarry in the way that mists do on Egdon Heath.

'Close up there, said the warder in charge. 'Stop work and close up. Look out there, you idiot! for Grimes had stumbled over the field‑telephone. 'If you've broken it you'll come up before the Governor to‑morrow.

'Hold this horse, said the other warder, handing the reins to Grimes.

He stooped and began to collect the chains on which the men were strung for their march home. Grimes seemed to be having some difficulty with the horse, which was plunging and rearing farther away from the squad. 'Can't you even hold a horse, said the warder. Suddenly Grimes, with remarkable agility considering his leg, was seen to be in the saddle riding away into the heath.

'Come back, roared the warder, 'come back, or I'll fire. He put his rifle to his shoulder and fired into the fog. 'He'll come back all right, he said. 'No one ever gets away for long. He'll get solitary confinement and No. 1 diet for this, poor fish.

No one seemed to be much disturbed by the incident, even when it was found that the field‑telephone was disconnected.

'He hasn't a hope, said the warder. 'They often do that, just put down their tools sudden and cut and run. But they can't get away in those clothes and with no money. We shall warn all the farms to‑night. Sometimes they stays out hiding for several days, but back they comes when they're hungry, or else they get arrested the moment they shows up in a village. I reckon it's just nerves makes them try it.

That evening the horse came back, but there was no sign of Grimes. Special patrols were sent out with bloodhounds straining at their leashes; the farms and villages on the heath were warned, and the anxious inhabitants barred their doors closely and more pertinently forbade their children to leave the house on any pretext whatever; the roads were watched for miles, and all cars were stopped and searched, to the intense annoyance of many law‑abiding citizens. But Grimes did not turn up. Bets were slyly made among the prisoners as to the day of his recovery; but days passed, and the rations of bread changed hands, but still there was no Grimes.