Роберт Эйкман - The Late Breakfasters (Faber Finds)

The proposal of Kynaston’s which Griselda accepted, was made one snowy night on the Central London Railway, between Oxford Circus and Marble Arch. Kynaston proposed immediately they entered the train, as indeed the shortness of the journey rendered necessary.

‘I shall go to Canada, if you refuse,’ he concluded. ‘The Mounted Police are starting a ballet, and I’ve been asked to be rйgisseur.’

There was a tired desperation about him which was very convincing.

‘You don’t mind that I love someone else?’

‘Of course I mind. It’s bloody for me.’

‘But you’re willing to risk it?’

‘I don’t expect everything.’

Griselda sank her head on his shoulder. But it was Bond Street Station, and she raised it again. It would be pleasant not to have to conduct so much of her emotional life on and near the Underground. She waited for the train to restart. Her heart felt quite dead; like a dry sponge, or a cauliflower run to seed.

‘All right, Geoffrey, I’ll marry you if you want it so much.’

He said nothing at all and Griselda continued to stare before her.

‘Let’s make it soon,’ she said.

Kynaston still said nothing. From the corner of her eye, Griselda saw that he was quietly and motionlessly weeping. She laid her hand on his. He had attractive hands.

‘Thank you, Griselda,’ he said at last. ‘Could you lend me your handkerchief?’

They had reached Marble Arch. Ascending on the escalator, Griselda reflected that there were said to be wonderful mysteries attendant on marriage. Long before the top, a freezing atmosphere enveloped her from the world outside.

In the Edgware Road it was as if all the air held particles of snow in suspension. None the less, before they reached Greenwood Tree House, they had decided to marry before Christmas. It would, Kynaston believed, require a special licence, which would involve extra expense; but now that Griselda had the shop, extra expense might be less of an obstacle.

At the outer door, Kynaston showed no particular inclination to accompany Griselda upstairs.

‘My wretched shoes leak. I must buy some new ones before we marry. This snow could lead to chilblains.’

But Griselda had no wish to be left with her thoughts.

‘You can take them off in my room. It’s just the sort of thing you’ve always wanted.’

He did so. His socks were saturated with snow, and his feet were blue. They were, however, as male feet go, attractively shaped, Griselda was relieved to note.

‘I can’t lend you any socks because I don’t wear trousers.’

‘I expect they’ll dry.’ He hung them on the bars of a bedroom chair and pushed the chair in front of the electric heater. At once the socks began to steam profusely and also to fill the room with a faint but individual stench.

‘I’ll fetch Peggy. She’d better hear the news.’

‘Peggy frightens me, Griselda.’

‘I expect we shall both find it difficult with the other’s friends, but Peggy’s got a right to know.’

If Kynaston had asked what right, Griselda would have found it hard to specify. But he merely said ‘I’d better put my shoes on.’

Peggy, however, proved to be already in bed.

‘Everyone at the Ministry has got a cold. I don’t want to take an unnecessary risk.’

‘Peggy! I’m going to marry Geoffrey Kynaston.’ Griselda came very near to the tone in which such announcements are made.

‘You said you weren’t the marrying kind.’

‘I’ve changed.’

‘Not at all. I never believed you. Remember? I hope you’ll be very happy, Griselda.’

‘Thank you, Peggy dear.’

‘I hope you’ll find in him all you wish.’

‘Of course I shall. He’s in my room now. I hoped you’d be able to join us.’

Peggy smiled with irritating scepticism. ‘You can do without me. Just pass me down the bottle of Formamints before you go back to him, would you please, Griselda?’

‘Is there anything else I can get you?’

‘No thank you. I don’t know how you’re placed, but I could borrow my sister’s wedding-dress if you’d like it. She was just about your size when she married and I know she’s kept it for my nieces.’

There was something about Peggy, fond though Griselda was of her, which tempted to the outrageous.

‘Thank you. I doubt whether white would be appropriate.’

But Peggy only smiled and said ‘That’s for you to say.’

XXIX

A special licence proved unnecessary, but there were difficulties of domicile, and it seemed that for the ceremony the only day convenient to all parties (but especially to the Registrar) would be Christmas Eve. Questioned as to his religion, Kynaston stated that he was loosely attached to the Baha’i Movement; and though Griselda belonged to the Church of England, she had small inclination for the chilliness of so many empty churches on a December morning. The Registry Office, though perhaps little warmer, offered a briefer ceremony, and one free from that undertone of morality still characteristic of so many churches.

As the day drew near, Griselda felt quite resigned. After Beams, her life had subsided into very nearly its former uneventfulness; so that for the present a change of any kind made an unconscious appeal. The only marked modification in her behaviour, however, was that she ceased to buy so many clothes. Also she spent two evenings a week trying to clean and decorate Kynaston’s attic flat, which was to be her home until something more suitable could be both found and afforded. Lena assisted: clad in a dun coloured boiler suit, and after a busy day at the shop, she distempered the ceilings in pink and blue, and made water come out of the tap, before returning to Juvenal Court to resume work on her new novel, ‘Legacy Grass’. Kynaston came to approve of her more and more until Griselda felt that she ought to feel jealous. Griselda, though good at walking, and good at the design part of interior decoration (she suggested they should try to instal some means of heating the water, even if obtained second-hand), was less good than Lena at implementing her suggestions. Kynaston had become radiantly happy, and restive about his terms of employment.

‘After we’re married, and now you two have got the shop,’ he said to Lena, who was laying a carpet which had been found rolled up behind some old stock in Mr Tamburlane’s former office, ‘I shall try again with my plastic poses. I often think they’re the only thing I’ve gone in for which has community value. After marriage one must think of that.’

Lena stopped hammering. ‘Think of what?’

‘Community value. After marriage I mean to be less of a parasite.’

‘It’s much more important for you to keep Griselda’s body happy. Concentrate on that.’

‘Зa va sans dire.’

‘No man’s quite a parasite who can do that for a woman. It’s your only hope, Geoffrey.’

‘Hadn’t we better change the subject? It’s in poor taste in Griselda’s own home.’

‘Griselda’s opening a tin. Go and help her.’ Lena resumed hammering. The carpet was difficult to penetrate and smelt dreadfully of the East.

As a matter of fact, moreover, Lena was wrong for once. Griselda had heard every word.

She eyed Kynaston across the tin of pilchards. She supposed there might be some joy in the relationship which so many sought for and hoped for and worked for and suffered for. It certainly could not compensate for the loss of Louise, but it might be not wholly barren. Griselda shuddered slightly. It was attractive and Kynaston kissed her.

‘Why pilchards, Geoffrey? Why not squille?’

‘Because pilchards are cheap.’

‘They seem very oily.’

‘The fish themselves are quite dry.’