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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'What's comical about that?' he enquired. 'I thought you might consider it a trifle strange so soon after you know what.'

She just lay on him without replying.

'A bit thick it looked to me after he'd followed her right over to England,' he went on.

'Captain Davenport?' she repeated. 'You just put that silliness out of your mind.'

'Can you beat it? With all the rumpus you made at the time,' he announced. For answer she turned her face up and kissed him.

'Women are a mystery,' he added. He kissed her avidly.

Some minutes later he spoke once more. 'Was that right what you said about Mr Jack taking liberties?' he asked.

'Wouldn't you like to know,' she replied.

'No girl,' he objected drawing a bit away from her again, 'I got the right to learn now I hope.'

'You don't have to worry your head about him either,' she said.

'I'm the best judge of that,' he muttered.

'Why Charley you're not ever goin' to be jealous of a stuck-up useless card like him surely?'

'You've got such peculiar notions,' he said. 'It'd be hard to tell what you consider is right or wrong.'

'Say that a second time,' she demanded.

'Now sweet'eart,' he said, 'don't go ridin' your high horse.'

'I'm not ridin' nothing.'

'Then what's it all about?' he asked.

'Seems to me you're trying to make out I gave that boy en-s couragement.'

'Yes they do take 'em young for the army,' he replied.

'Were you?' she went on. 'Because I won't stand for it Charley.' But she was only grumbling.:- 'Who me?' he said. 'Not on your life. You wouldn't reply to my question.'

'What girl would?' she enquired sweet. s 'I'd have thought any woman could give a straight answer if she was asked whether a certain individual had offered… well offered…' and he seemed at a loss.

'Offered what?' she murmured obviously amused.

'Well all right then, tried to kiss her?' he ended.

'An' I should never've thought there was a man breathing would be so easy as to expect he'd be told the truth.'

'Oho so that's the old game,' he laughed. 'Keeping me on a string is it, to leave me to picture this that and the other to do with you and him?'

'If you can bring your imagination to such a level you're to be pitied,' she answered tart.

'All I did was to ask,' he objected.

'You're free to picture what you please,' she replied. 'I've got no hold on your old imagination, not yet I haven't.'

'What d'you mean not yet?'

'I mean after we're married,' she whispered, her voice gone husky. 'After we're married I'll see to it that you don't have no imagination. I'll make everything you want of me now so much more than you ever dreamed that you'll be quit imaginin' for the rest of your life.'

'Oh honey,' he said in a sort of cry and kissed her passionately. But a rustling noise interrupted them.

'What's that?' he asked violent.

'Hush dear,' she said, 'it'th only the peacockth.'

And indeed a line of these birds one after the other and hardly visible in this dusk was making tracks back to the stables.

'Whatever brought you to think of that cow son at a time like this,' he asked awkward.

'There'th a lot you'd like to know ithn't there,' she answered.

'Oh give us a kiss do,' he begged.

'If you behave yourthelf,' she said.

After tea one afternoon Edith went up to her room to lie down. She was tired. Agatha and Miss Swift were still confined to bed. The extra work this caused was hard.

She found Kate stretched out already. The rain pattered on ivy round their opened window.

'I'm dead beat I am,' this girl said to Edith who answered, 'Well I don't suppose hard work ever did anyone any harm.'

'But don't it keep pilin' up against you dear all the time,' Kate remarked. Then she added as Edith sat to roll down her stockings. 'There's one thing we still get you can't buy the other side.'

'What's that?'

'Silk stockings,' Kate explained, 'It certainly is a change to hear you have a good word for this place,' Edith said.

Kate let it pass. 'Why don't we have the talks we used to Edie?' she asked.

'Land's sakes I expect it's we're too tired for anything when we do get up in the old room,' Edith answered.

'We used to have some lovely talks Edie.'

'Maybe we've got past talkin'.'

'What d'you mean by that?'

'Well things is different now Kate.'

'If you're referring to the fact that you've an understandin' with Mr Raunce that's no reason to tell me nothing about you, or about him for that matter, is it?'

Edith laughed at this.

'O. K. dear,' she said, 'you win. You go on asking then?'

'You are going to be married Edie?'

'We are that,' Edith said, lying down full length. Both girls looked up at the ceiling, stretched out on their backs airing their feet.

'Well I wish you all I could wish meself,' Kate said in a low voice.

'Thanks love,' Edith replied matter of fact.

'When's it going to be?'

'As soon as I've got me a few pretties together I shouldn't wonder,' Edith answered.

At this a sort of snorting sob came from the other bed. Edith rolled to look, then sat up. 'Why you're crying,' she exclaimed. She came across and sat on the edge of Kate's eiderdown.

'Whatever for? You are silly,' she added gentle. 'Here,' she said, 'look at you right on top of the quilting. Let's get you comfortable.' She began to roll Kate across to one side to get the eiderdown from underneath her. Kate was limp. 'Oh Edie' she wailed and started to cry noisily.

'Hush dear,' Edith murmured, 'someone'll hear.' She began to ease Kate's clothes off.

'Oh Edie,' Kate moaned. Edith stopped to wipe the girl's face which was damp with tears.

There,' Edith said. 'Now don't you pay attention love. They're nothin' but an old lot of muddlers every one.' She covered Kate's greenish body up.

Kate's violent crying passed to hiccups.

'Why,' she asked turning so that she could watch Edith, 'has one of them spoken about me?'

'No not a word.'

'I got the hiccups,' Kate announced, almost started a giggle. She brightened.'

'Cause you'd've known what to tell 'em if they had?'

'Of course I would dear,' Edith was stroking the nape of Kate's neck.

'Oh that's nice love,' this girl said. She blew her nose on the handkerchief Edith had left ready to hand. 'You don't know what a lot of good that's doin'.'

'And so it should,' Edith answered.

'Thanks duck. And now we're like we used to be isn't that right?'

'That's right.'

'I can't make out what came over me,' Kate went on. 'Honest I can't.'

'It's a hard bloody world.'

'Why Edith I never thought to hear you swear of all people, I didn't that.'

'It's the truth Kate just the same.'

'You're right it is,' Kate said. 'Look I've got rid of my 'iccups. That's one good thing. Yes there's times I could bust right out with it all. It gets you down. An' then your tellin' me about you an' Mr Raunce.'

'I thought you said once you'd never give him a Mr.'

'Oh Edie that's different. Now you're to be married I must show my respect.'

'I don't know dear. I'm sure you can call him Charley for all I care.'

'Have it any way you want,' said Kate peaceably. 'An' where will you live? Are you planning to stay in Kinalty?'

'Yes we got our eye on that little place in the demesne.'

'Oh isn't that lovely.'

'And we're thinking of gettin' his mother to come over to be with us so she will be out of the bombin'.'

'Oh isn't that nice,' Kate said and seemed to choke. She began to cry silently again, great tears welling from her shut eyes.

'Why love,' Edith asked, 'is anything the matter?'

'No,' Kate wailed.

'You're sure now?' Edith went on. Then she asked, There's nothing going to happen to you is there?'

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