Edward Aubyn - The Patrick Melrose Novels - Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, and Mother's Milk

BRIDGET HAD TOLD HER mother to get a taxi at the station and not to worry because she would pay, but when Virginia Watson-Scott arrived at Cheatley she was too embarrassed to ask and so she paid herself, although seventeen pounds plus a pound for the driver was no small sum.

‘If orchids could write novels,’ Tony Fowles was saying when Virginia was shown into Bridget’s little sitting room, ‘they would write novels like Isabel’s.’

‘Oh, hello, Mummy,’ sighed Bridget, getting up from the sofa where she’d been drinking in Tony’s words. The Valium had helped to muffle the impact of overhearing Sonny’s telephone call, and Bridget was slightly shocked but pleased by her ability to enter into the trance of habit and to be distracted by Tony’s witty conversation. Nevertheless the presence of her mother struck her as an additional and unfair burden.

‘I thought I was so well organized,’ she explained to her mother, ‘but I’ve still got a million and one things to do. Do you know Tony Fowles?’

Tony got up and shook hands. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said.

‘It’s nice to be in proper countryside,’ said Virginia, nervous of silence. ‘It’s become so built-up around me.’

‘I know,’ said Tony. ‘I love seeing cows, don’t you? They’re so natural.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Virginia, ‘cows are nice.’

‘My trouble,’ Tony confessed, ‘is that I’m so aesthetic. I want to rush into the field and arrange them. Then I’d have them glued to the spot so they looked perfect from the house.’

‘Poor cows,’ said Virginia, ‘I don’t think they’d like that. Where’s Belinda?’ she asked Bridget.

‘In the nursery, I imagine,’ said Bridget. ‘It’s a bit early, but would you like some tea?’

‘I’d rather see Belinda first,’ Virginia replied, remembering that Bridget had asked her to come at teatime.

‘All right, we’ll go and have tea in the nursery,’ said Bridget. ‘I’m afraid your room is on the nursery floor anyhow – we’re so crowded with Princess Margaret and everything – so I can show you your room at the same time.’

‘Righty-ho,’ said Virginia. It was a phrase Roddy had always used, and it drove Bridget mad.

‘Oh,’ she couldn’t help groaning, ‘please don’t use that expression.’

‘I must have caught it from Roddy!’

‘I know,’ said Bridget. She could picture her father in his blazer and his cavalry twills saying ‘righty-ho’ as he put on his driving gloves. He had always been kind to her, but once she had learned to be embarrassed by him she had never stopped, even after he died.

‘Let’s go up, then,’ sighed Bridget. ‘You’ll come with us, won’t you?’ she pleaded with Tony.

‘Aye-aye,’ said Tony, saluting, ‘or aren’t I allowed to say that?’

Bridget led the way to the nursery. Nanny, who had been in the middle of scolding Belinda for being ‘overexcited’, set off to make tea in the nursery kitchen, muttering, ‘Both parents in one day,’ with a mixture of awe and resentment.

‘Granny!’ said Belinda, who liked her grandmother. ‘I didn’t know you were coming!’

‘Didn’t anyone tell you?’ asked Virginia, too pleased with Belinda to dwell on this oversight.

Tony and Bridget moved over to the tattered old sofa at the far end of the room.

‘Roses,’ said Tony reproachfully, sitting down.

‘Aren’t they sweet together?’ asked Bridget, watching Belinda on Virginia’s knee, peering into her grandmother’s bag to see if there were sweets in it. For a moment Bridget could remember being in the same position and feeling happy.

‘Sweet,’ confirmed Tony, ‘or sweets anyway.’

‘You old cynic,’ said Bridget.

Tony put on an expression of wounded innocence. ‘I’m not a cynic,’ he moaned. ‘Is it my fault that most people are motivated by greed and envy?’

‘What motivates you?’ asked Bridget.

‘Style,’ said Tony bashfully. ‘And love for my friends,’ he added, softly patting Bridget’s wrist.

‘Don’t try to butter me up,’ said Bridget.

‘Who’s being a cynic now?’ gasped Tony.

‘Look what Granny brought me,’ said Belinda, holding out a bag of lemon sherbets, her favourite sweets.

‘Would you like one?’ she asked her mother.

‘You mustn’t give her sweets,’ said Bridget to Virginia. ‘They’re frightfully bad for her teeth.’

‘I only bought a quarter of a pound,’ said Virginia. ‘You used to like them too as a girl.’

‘Nanny disapproves terribly, don’t you, Nanny?’ asked Bridget, taking advantage of the reappearance of Nanny with a tea tray.

‘Oh yes,’ said Nanny, who hadn’t in fact heard what was being discussed.

‘Sweets rot little girls’ teeth,’ said Bridget.

‘Sweets!’ cried Nanny, able to focus on the enemy at last. ‘No sweets in the nursery except on Sundays!’ she thundered.

Belinda ran through the nursery door and out into the corridor. ‘I’m not in the nursery anymore,’ she chanted.

Virginia put her hand over her mouth to make a show of concealing her laughter. ‘I didn’t want to cause any trouble,’ she said.

‘Oh, she’s a lively one,’ said Nanny cunningly, seeing that Bridget secretly admired Belinda’s rebelliousness.

Virginia followed Belinda out into the corridor. Tony looked critically at the old tweed skirt she wore. Stylish it was not. He felt licensed by Bridget’s attitude to despise Virginia, without forgoing the pleasure of despising Bridget for not being more loyal to her mother, or stylish enough to rise above her.

‘You should take your mum shopping for a new skirt,’ he suggested.

‘Don’t be so rude,’ said Bridget.

Tony could smell the weakness in her indignation. ‘That maroon check gives me a headache,’ he insisted.

‘It is ghastly,’ admitted Bridget.

Nanny brought over two cups of tea, and a plate of Jaffa Cakes.

‘Granny’s going to keep the sweets for me,’ said Belinda, coming back into the nursery. ‘And I have to ask her if I want one.’

‘It seemed to us like a good compromise,’ Virginia explained.

‘And she’s going to read me a story before dinner,’ said Belinda.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you,’ said Bridget absently, ‘you’ve been asked to dinner at the Bossington-Lanes’. I couldn’t refuse, they made such a fuss about needing extra women. It’ll be so stuffy here with Princess Margaret, you’ll be much more at home over there. They’re neighbours of ours, frightfully nice.’

‘Oh,’ said Virginia. ‘Well, if I’m needed I suppose…’

‘You don’t mind , do you?’ asked Bridget.

‘Oh no,’ said Virginia.

‘I mean, I thought it would be nicer for you, more relaxed.’

‘Yes, I’m sure I’ll be more relaxed,’ said Virginia.

‘I mean, if you really don’t want to go I could still cancel them I suppose, although they’ll be frightfully angry at this stage.’

‘No, no,’ said Virginia. ‘I’d love to go, you mustn’t cancel them now. They sound very nice. Will you excuse me a moment?’ she added, getting up and opening the door that led to the other rooms on the nursery floor.

‘Did I handle that all right?’ Bridget asked Tony.

‘You deserve an Oscar.’

‘You don’t think it was unkind of me? It’s just that I don’t think I can handle P.M. and Sonny and my mother all at once.’

‘You did the right thing,’ Tony reassured her. ‘After all, you couldn’t very well send either of those two to the Bossington-Lanes’.’

‘I know, but I mean, I was thinking of her too.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be happier there,’ said Tony. ‘She seems a nice woman but she’s not very…’ he searched for the right word, ‘… social, is she?’