Henry Green - Loving

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Green remains a dim figure for many Americans. He stopped writing in 1952, at age 47, with just nine novels and a memoir behind him. In the last years of his life-he died in 1973-he became a kind of British Thomas Pynchon, agreeing to be photographed only from behind. But those who knew him often revered him. W. H. Auden called him the finest living English novelist. His real name was Henry Vincent Yorke. The son of a wealthy Birmingham industrialist, he was educated at Eton and Oxford but never completed his degree. He became managing director of the family factory, which made beer-bottling machines. But first he spent a year on the factory floor with the ordinary workers, and his fiction is forever marked by an understanding of the English at all levels of society, something rare in class-bound British literature. Loving is a classic upstairs-downstairs story, with the emphasis on downstairs. You see the life of a great Irish country house during World War II through the eyes of its mostly British servants, who make a world of their own during a period when their masters are away. Green's generosity towards even the most scheming and rascally of them offers a lesson you never forget.
One of his most admired works, Loving describes life above and below stairs in an Irish country house during the Second World War. In the absence of their employers the Tennants, the servants enact their own battles and conflict amid rumours about the war in Europe; invading one another's provinces of authority to create an anarchic environment of self-seeking behaviour, pilfering, gossip and love.
"Loving stands, together with Living, as the masterpiece of this disciplined, poetic and grimly realistic, witty and melancholy, amorous and austere voluptuary-comic, richly entertaining-haunting and poetic-writer." – TLS
"Green's works live with ever-brightening intensity-it's like dancing with Nijinsky or Astaire, who lead you effortlessly on." – The Wall Street Journal
"Green's novels- have become, with time, photographs of a vanished England -Green's human qualities – his love of work and laughter; his absolute empathy; his sense of splendour amid loss – make him a precious witness to any age." – John Updike
"Green's books are solid and glittering as gems." – Anthony Burgess

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'Blimey,' he said. If she had looked she would have seen he mocked.

'Makin' out she's too good to have anything to do with us,' Mrs Welch began again. She opened her eyes. 'Sayin' she won't take you along of Miss Moira and Miss Evelyn.' Mrs Welch heaved herself back to the table, propping her head on the palms of her hands. 'The lousy bitch,' she said soft, 'runnin' in double 'arness with that Raunce into the bargain. Oh,' she suddenly yelled, 'if I catch you I'll tan the 'ide right off of you d'you understand?'

Out in the scullery Jane and Mary nodded at one another, at the rise and fall of this thick voice.

'Tan the 'ide off me what for?' the lad asked.

'What for you bastard imp?' she shouted and lumbering while still on her seat she made a slow grab which he easily dodged.

'I ain't done nothing,' he pretended to whine.

'Ah they're in a society with them tradesmen,' she cried out. 'Don't I know it. Why only the other day Jane was got be'ind the monument by one. I made out I never noticed when she told me,' Mrs Welch explained lowering her voice, 'but I marked it well. And I shan't forget,' she added although she seemed short of breath, 'I weren't born yesterday,' she said.

'Can I 'ave my tea'm?' he requested.

'Can you 'ave your tea?' she replied with scorn and made no move. 'Yes,' she went on dark, 'I've watched their thievin'. Raunce an' that Edith. Not to mention Kate with what she gets up to… As I've witnessed times without number from me larder windows. So don't you never 'ave nothin' to do with any one of 'em see. 'Ave you got that straight?' she asked hoarse, glaring right through him. Without waiting for an answer she called out, 'Jane, Master Albert's tea.' She was perfectly serious.

'And may your ladyship's heart be asy on her to get back to the Castle,' Michael said from the driver's seat as obviously excited, grinning in his idiot way, he at once drove off to the stables leaving Mrs Tennant dumped down in front of her own front door surrounded by the luggage.

'Michael,' she called after him to a wisp of blue smoke.

Then she reached for the latch which was a bullock's horn bound in bronze. But these great portals were barred. She gave the ordinary bell a vicious jab.

'What's this Arthur I mean Raunce?' she asked when Charley opened.

'I am very sorry I'm sure Madam. I had no idea the boat would be punctual. I was just putting on my coat to come to look out for you Madam.'

'But why the locked door?' she asked as she entered.

'We had an unwelcome visitor Madam,' he replied, a suitcase already in each hand.

'What do you mean Raunce? Really do try and talk sense. Such a trying journey which it always is now one can't fly and then this.' Charley's Albert came hurrying for the other bags. Mrs Tennant seemed to watch the lad. Raunce had his eye cautious on her.

'Is nobody even going to say good afternoon to me then?' she enquired without warning. 'Raunce I'm sure you don't mean to be unfriendly but when one comes home one does expect a little something. Eldon when he was alive always had a word of welcome.'

'Well all I can say is Madam thank God you are back,' Raunce burst out.

'I suppose that means you've all been at each other's throats again? Very well put those bags of mine down and tell me about it. I might have known,' she added as she went into the Red Library. He followed after.

She sat down where he had rested his heels a day or so before She took off her gloves.

'Have you had much rain here?' she enquired.

'Hardly any at all Madam.'

'I do hope the wells don't run dry then. Now Raunce what is all this?'

'Well Madam we had an unwelcome visitor on the Saturday.' There he stopped short although she could tell from his manner that he had thoroughly prepared what he meant to say.

'So you said a minute ago,' was Mrs Tennant's comment.

'It was about your ring Madam,' he went on taking his time. He gazed at her as though hypnotized.

'Good heavens had he found it?"

'No Madam. To tell you the truth he came to enquire if we had come across the ring.'

'Well has anyone?'

'No Madam, we haven't and that's a fact.'

'It is a shame. It was rather a beautiful one too,' she said. 'And d'you know Raunce I've never had a word of sympathy from any of you? Just a single word would have made all the difference.'

'I'm very sorry Madam. We were all very disturbed when you lost the ring I'm sure.'

'Very well then. Now what has made you so thankful that I'm back?'

'It was not very pleasant Madam. Indeed this individual seemed to take the attitude one of us might have had the ring.'

'You can go now Albert,' Mrs Tennant sang out to the lad through the open door. This doesn't concern you. Just take my bags up for Agatha to unpack do you mind?'

'I regret to inform you Miss Burch is indisposed Madam. And Miss Swift is no better I'm sorry to add,' Raunce told her.

'What's the matter with Agatha then?'

'I couldn't say I'm sure but I don't think she has anything serious Madam.'

'All right then. I don't want to be difficult. I'll unpack for myself. Now you surely aren't going to tell me that an insurance inspector calling to make the usual enquiries has set the household at sixes and sevens?'

'Well this was not exactly a pleasant experience Madam. More like the third degree Madam. And it seemed to throw my boy Albert right off his balance, Madam.'

'Raunce may I say something?'

'Yes Madam.'

'Don't Madam me quite as much as you do. Put in one now and again for politeness but repeating a thing over and over rather seems to take awny from the value,' and she gave him a sweet smile really.

'Very good Madam.'

'Well go on.'

'It seemed as I say to put my lad right off his balance. I was astounded Madam there is no other word. The first thing anyone knew while this individual was making his enquiries was that Albert said he had it.'

'Had what?'

'Well I suppose the ring Madam.'

'Albert has it?' Mrs Tennant echoed brightly. 'Why on earth doesn't he hand over then?'

'Oh no Madam I'm sure he's never even seen the ring. It was only he completely lost his head Madam.'

'Stuff and nonsense Raunce if the boy said he had it and you heard him, very well then he's had it and he's a miserable little thief isn't he?'

'I do assure you Madam Albert could never do such a thing.'

'But you told me yourself he'd said he had it. You heard him.'

'That was the inspector from the insurance people.'

'All right then what on earth did the insurance man say to make Albert go out of his mind? Because this is what you're asking me to believe isn't it, that Albert's had a breakdown or what?'

Raunce answered with what appeared to be reluctance.

'He said the company would not meet the claim I'm sorry to tell Madam.'

'Not meet the claim? Really Raunce this is too detestable. Are you sure?'

'Yes Madam.'

'It's not the money I'm worried about, the thing had memories for me that money couldn't buy. No what I'm thinking is that I shan't get any insurance company to insure me if we don't get this cleared up. Oh how aggravating you all of you are. Why the whole thing's distasteful. Here am I have got to suffer because you can't control your pantry boy. You do see that don't you Raunce? Then tell me this. What on earth would you advise me to do now?'

'Well Madam if I may say so Albert is a good lad. In fact I can't believe he can know the least thing. If you would give me another few days Madam I'm positive I can sift to the bottom of it for you.'

However Mrs Tennant decided that she must see Albert for herself- As Raunce went to fetch the lad she called him back.

'But what are you thanking God for that I'm here if things are in the state they're in?' she asked.

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