Muriel Spark - The Complete Short Stories

‘Have you booked for a tour of England and Wales? I trust you are planning to see something of the English countryside?’

‘I couldn’t find that bootmaker in St Paul’s Churchyard,’ she wrote to him, ‘because it is all bombed. Better stick to the usual place in Johannesburg. Anyway, I might not order the right boots.

Soon, then, she made no reply to his specific requests and suggestions, but merely gave him an account of her parties, pepping them up for his benefit. He seemed not to read her letters properly, for he never referred to the parties.

Greta came back to the fiat one afternoon with a toy poodle. ‘He’s yours,’ she said to Daphne.

‘How utterly perfect!’ said Daphne, thinking it was a gift, and wanting to express her appreciation as near as possible in the vernacular.

‘I had to have him for you,’ said Greta, and went on to demand a hundred and ten guineas. Daphne ducked her face affectionately in the pet’s curly coat to hide her dismay.

‘We were so terribly lucky to get him,’ Greta was saying. ‘You see, he’s not just a miniature — they’re slightly bigger — he’s a toy.

Daphne gave her a cheque, and wrote to Chakata to say how expensive London was. She decided to take a job in the autumn, and to cut out the fortnight’s motoring tour of the north with Molly, Rat, and Mole which she had arranged to share with them.

Chakata sent her the money as an advance on her next quarterly allowance. ‘Sorry can’t do more. Fly has had a go at the horses, and you will have read about the tobacco crops.’ She had not read about the blight, but a bad year was not an uncommon occurrence. She was surprised at Chakata’s attitude, for she believed him to be fairly wealthy. Shortly after this she heard from friends in the Colony that Chakata’s daughter and her husband who had gone to farm in Kenya, had been murdered by the Mau Mau. ‘Chakata implored us not to tell you,’ wrote her friend, ‘but we thought you should know. Chakata is educating the two boys.’

It was the middle of May. Daphne had engaged to be Mrs Casse’s lodger till the end of June. However, she telephoned to Linda that she was returning to the country. Greta was out. Daphne packed and sat down courageously with Popcorn (the poodle) on her lap to await her return, and explain her financial predicament.

Michael came in first. He was carrying an empty birdcage and a cardboard box with holes in it. On opening the box a bird flew Out in a panic.

‘A budgerigar,’ said Michael. ‘I expect they fly about wild where you’ve come from. They talk, you know. It’s frightened at the moment, but when they get used to you, they talk’ He giggled.

The bird was perched on a lampshade. Daphne caught it and put it in the cage. It had a lavender breast.

‘It’s for you,’ Michael said. ‘Mummy sent me home with it. She bought it for you. It says “Come here, darling” and “Go to hell”, and things like that.’

‘I really don’t want it,’ said Daphne in despair.

‘Peep, peep, peep,’ said Michael to the bird, ‘say halo, say halo. Say come here darling.’

It sat on the floor of the cage and moved only its head from side to side.

‘Really,’ said Daphne, ‘I have no money. I’m hard up. I can’t afford your mother’s birds. I’m just waiting to say goodbye to her.’

‘No,’ said Michael.

‘Yes,’ said Daphne.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Take my advice and clear out now before she comes back. If you tell her this to her face there’s bound to be hell.’ He giggled weakly, poured himself a drink of brandy which his mother had watered, and said, ‘Shall I get you a taxi now? She’ll be back in half an hour.’

‘No, I’ll wait,’ said Daphne, and ran her hand nervously through the poodle’s curls.

‘There was nearly a court action one time,’ said Michael, ‘about another girl. Mummy was supposed to have given two balls for her, but she didn’t or something, and the girl’s people got worked up. I think Mummy spent the money on something else, or something.’ He giggled.

‘Oh, I see.’ Daphne went and telephoned to Mole and asked him to call for her when he left his office.

Greta arrived, and when she had taken in the situation she sent Michael from the room.

‘I must tell you,’ said Greta to Daphne, ‘that what you are proposing is illegal. You realize that, don’t you?’

‘I can give you a week’s money in lieu of notice,’ Daphne said, ‘and a little extra.’

‘You agreed to stay till the end of June, my dear. I have it in black and white.’ This was true. Daphne realized how deliberately her letter of confirmation from the country had been extracted from her.

‘My uncle has had some unforeseen expenses. My cousins were murdered by the Mau Mau, and their sons —’

‘I’m sorry, my dear, but one just can’t be sentimental. It’s not like taking in ordinary lodgers. A Season is a Season, and one can’t get another girl at this time of the year. Look what I’ve done for you. Parties, the races, meeting important people … No, sorry, I can’t consider releasing you from the obligation. I’ve arranged a cocktail party at Claridge’s for you next week. After all, I don’t make anything out of it. Mercy Slater charges fifteen hundred to bring a girl out.’

This put Daphne off her stroke, it prompted her to haggle: ‘Lady Slater gives balls for her debs.’

Greta rapidly got in: ‘You surely didn’t expect the full deb process in your position?’

‘Mole is calling for me,’ Daphne said.

‘I don’t want to keep you against your will, Daphne. But if you leave now you must compensate me fully. Then, if you want to go away, go away.

‘Go’way. Go’way, go to hell,’ said the budgerigar, which had now risen to its perch.

‘And then there’s the bird,’ said she. ‘I bought it for you this afternoon. I thought you’d be thrilled.’ She began to weep.

‘I don’t want it,’ said Daphne.

‘All my girls have adored their pets,’ Greta said.

‘Come here darling,’ said the bird. ‘Go’way, go to hell.’

Greta was doing a sum. ‘The bird is twenty guineas. Then there’s the extra clothes I’ve ordered —’

‘Go’way. Go’way,’ said the bird.

Mole arrived. Daphne placed a cheque for twenty pounds on the hall table and slipped down to his car, leaving him to cope with her bags. ‘You will hear from my solicitors,’ Greta called after her.

Michael was hanging about in the hail. He took the scene calmly. He giggled at Daphne, then went to help Mole with the luggage.

They had been driving for ten minutes before they had to stop for a traffic light. Then, when the engine stopped, Daphne heard the budgerigar chirping at the back of the car.

‘You’ve brought the bird!’ she said.

‘Yes. Isn’t it yours? Michael told me it was yours.

‘I’ll ring the pet shop,’ she said, ‘and ask them to take it back. Do you think Greta Casse will sue me?’

‘She hasn’t a hope,’ said Mole. ‘Forget it.’

Daphne rang the pet shop next morning from the country.

‘This is Mrs Casse speaking,’ she said with a nasal voice. ‘I bought a budgerigar from you yesterday. So silly of me, I’ve forgotten what I paid you, and I’d like to know, just for my records.’

‘Mrs Greta Casse?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I don’t think we sold a budgie yesterday, Mrs Casse. Just a moment, I’ll inquire.’

After a pause another, more authoritative, person came on the line. ‘You’re inquiring about a budgerigar, Mrs Casse?’

‘Yes, I bought it yesterday,’ said Daphne through her nose.

‘Not from us, Mrs Casse — oh, and by the way, Mrs Casse…’