Роберт Эйкман - The Late Breakfasters (Faber Finds)

In the morning it was again raining. In the muddy light water slapped against the glass of the windows in frequent protracted spasms. Griselda looked at the wrist-watch on the table beside her bed. Despite appearances, it was half-past nine. There was no evidence that she had been called, but clearly it was time to rise. She lay for a moment remembering her happiness. She saw that there was a puddle on the carpet. The rain had been entering for hours through the window she had carefully opened the night before.

She shut the window and dressed. She put on the clothes in which she had arrived, because she imagined that Louise would prefer them to the only other day clothes she had, those she had worn the day before. The silk blouse and linen skirt, though white and black respectively, which Griselda was sure would be taken as progress in the right direction, were far from warm. It was remarkable that such a morning could follow such a night. But the weather would surely deter Mrs Hatch from the proposed walk of which Griselda retained an indistinct though menacing recollection. Griselda decided to put appearance before comfort for as long as the circulation of her blood permitted. She was sure that Louise would approve of this.

Exactly as on the previous morning, Mrs Hatch was seated at the breakfast table alone. She wore the same grey sweater. She was talking in an unusually low voice to Brundrit and Monk, both of whom were stooping towards her, one on each side of her chair.

‘Excellent,’ said Mrs Hatch, as Griselda entered. ‘You’re first again. Sit down and take some eggs.’ She went on murmuring to her retainers. Griselda could catch only parts of sentences and thought it would be impolite to occupy her former breakfast seat next to her hostess. Taking two eggs, she proceeded towards the other end of the table.

The conference ended with the retainers straightening up and walking away, one on each side of the long table, looking remarkably gloomy, which came easily to Brundrit, but to Monk only with effort.

‘Whatever happens,’ called Mrs Hatch in her usual clear tones, ‘I cannot be kept hanging about in the house after half-past-eleven. Everybody concerned must clearly realize that this is Sunday.’ It was a fact Griselda had forgotten. Tomorrow she was to return.

‘I perfectly understand, madam,’ said Brundrit, in his reverberating croak. ‘We shall see to it that everyone is apprised.’

‘Do,’ said Mrs Hatch. They departed. The room, for the first time in Griselda’s experience, was without a domestic to assist with the eating.

‘Good morning, Griselda,’ continued Mrs Hatch. ‘I should have said that before. Please forgive me and have some cocoa.’

‘Good morning, Mrs Hatch.’

‘You are somewhat distant.’

Griselda started; then realized that the allusion was spatial.

‘Shall I move?’

‘I think that would be better. Come and sit next to me, as you did yesterday, and tell me what you thought about the dance. Politics apart, I fancy everything went like a circus, do not you?’ Griselda was transporting two eggs, one of them opened and liquid, a plate bearing a slice of bread and butter, and a heavy bowl of cocoa. Before she had time effectively to reply Mrs Hatch continued: ‘You’re not very appropriately dressed. The clothes you were wearing yesterday would have been more suitable. You don’t mind my speaking practically? Your Mother wouldn’t be pleased with me if you were to go home with a streaming cold after our walk.’

Griselda looked at the windows. A curtain of water cataracted down the glass, completely isolating the room from the grey world outside.

‘Are we walking in weather like this?’

Seated next to her hostess, Griselda saw that today Mrs Hatch was wearing a pair of waterproof trousers from Burberry’s and knew that the game was up.

‘You won’t take any harm if you wrap up, and if you’ve never walked in the rain you should take this opportunity of making a start. It’s enjoyable. But naturally you must not come if you would prefer not to.’ Mrs Hatch said this perfectly kindly, and without any intent to shame; and Griselda responded accordingly. She never had walked in the rain except reluctantly, uncomfortably, and under the stress of need; but at Beams she had already liked a number of things which she had not thought to like or had never liked before.

‘I’ll come if I can borrow some suitable clothes. When do we start?’

‘I usually start at half-past ten. But today we’re burying Odile’s dog first. I’ve just been settling the arrangements with Brundrit and Monk. I don’t think we’ll get away much before an hour after the proper time. Still we must think of Odile’s feelings. We don’t usually call our guests on Sunday. As I’m not prepared to stay at home and entertain them, I think it’s only fair to let them sleep if they can. But today everyone’s coming to the ceremony. Except, unfortunately, Austin Barnes, who has been really not at all himself after last night’s incident. I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that Austin is no longer the man he was. It’s a pity, because otherwise he’d be coming with us. Many’s the hard tramp I’ve taken with Austin Barnes during the last thirty years. I cannot believe he’ll be much further use to the country if he’s really leaving me to go alone.’ Mrs Hatch seemed genuinely upset by the Cabinet Minister’s defection.

‘I expect he’s run down,’ said Griselda sympathetically. ‘Perhaps he’s been in office too long.’

‘I’m very fond of Austin,’ replied Mrs Hatch after a moment’s thought, and gulping a draught of cocoa. ‘I’ve always been his inspiration, I believe; and through him I’ve inspired the course of events from time to time. Otherwise I prefer the company of women, in the main. They both feel more and have more common sense. So you gain both ways.’

Yet again Griselda felt herself blushing; this time darkly and hatefully.

‘Though it’s rarely enough I find myself having anything much in common with anybody. Another egg?’

‘No thank you. I’ve had enough.’ But suddenly Mrs Hatch’s character had been enlightened to Griselda, far beyond anything Mrs Hatch had actually said; and Griselda, to her surprise, did not dislike what she saw. It had been the same with some others at Beams, she realized. The dreadfulness of people was possibly a product not only of their isolation, but also of their community and likeness to one another. Griselda, while pitying and even liking Mrs Hatch, felt curiously superior to her.

No one else appeared for breakfast.

‘I’ll lend you a waterproof. A proper one,’ said Mrs Hatch, as she wiped her mouth. ‘I’ll send Mullet. The funeral’s arranged for eleven. In the shrubbery down by the large pond. Among the fruit trees. You’d better meet me in the hall, and we’ll go together.’

It was sad to miss a possible chance of seeing Louise. But in a short time Mullet appeared in Griselda’s room with an enormous mackintosh and a pair of dark brown boots lacing to the knee.

‘Mrs Hatch says will you try these for size.’

Griselda inserted her feet.

‘Mrs Hatch keeps all sizes for her Sunday walkers. But she’s good at guessing people’s feet.’

‘They fit perfectly.’

‘Will I help you lace them?’

‘I’ll be lacing all day if you don’t.’

The boots were wonderfully warm. They supported Griselda’s calves in a manner which was new and unbelievably comfortable. She donned the vast mackintosh and drew the hood over her head.

Mrs Hatch awaited her in the hall, wearing a tunic and beret matching her trousers. Most of the other guests were also assembled, unbreakfasted and varyingly ill-prepared against the climate. George Goss, who apparently had a really dangerous hangover, wore a shaggy dingy ulster, the bottom edge of which varied greatly in its distance from the ground. Pamela wore an allegedly protective garment more calculated to seduce the eye than to resist the rainfall. Even Mr Leech was there, looking little worse than usual. There was a group of servants attired like refugees, and no more enlivened by the project before them than anybody else. Only the Duke and Duchess were missing.