A Question of Upbringing - Anthony Powell [85]
Meanwhile, I continued occasionally to see something of Quiggin, although I came no nearer to deciding which of the various views held about him were true. He was like Widmerpool, as I have said, in his complete absorption in his own activities, and also in his ambition. Unlike Widmerpool, he made no parade of his aspirations, on the contrary, keeping as secret as possible his appetite for getting on in life, so that even when I became aware of the purposeful way in which he set about obtaining what he wanted, I could never be sure where precisely his desires lay. He used to complain of the standard of tutoring, or how few useful lectures were available, and at times he liked to discuss his work in great detail. In fact I thought, at first, that he worked far harder than most of the men I knew. Later I came to doubt this, finding that Quiggin’s work was something to be discussed rather than tackled, and that what he really enjoyed was drinking cups of coffee at odd times of day. He had another characteristic with which I became in due course familiar: he was keen on meeting people he considered important, and surprisingly successful in impressing persons – as he seemed to have impressed Truscott – who might have been reasonably expected to take amiss his manner and appearance.
The subject of Quiggin came up at one of those luncheons that Short, who had a comfortable allowance, gave periodically. Mark Members, in spite of his behaviour on the earlier occasion, was again of the party (because Short regarded him as intellectually “sound”); though Brightman was the guest of honour this time. Two undergraduates, called respectively Smethwyck and Humble, were there, and perhaps others. Short was inclined to become sentimental after he had eaten and drunk a fairly large amount in the middle of the day, and he had remarked: “Quiggin must find it hard to make two ends meet up here. He told me his father used to work on the railway line outside some Midland town.”
“Not a word of truth,” said Brightman, who was the only don present. “Quiggin is in my college. I went into the whole question of his financial position when he came up. He has certainly no less money than the average – probably more with his scholarships.”
“What does his father do then, Harold?” asked Short, who was quite used to being contradicted by Brightman; and, indeed, by almost everyone else in the university.
“Deceased.”
“But what did he do?”
“A builder – keen on municipal politics. So keen, he nearly landed in jail. He got off on appeal.”
Brightman could not help smiling to himself at the ease with which he could dispose of Short.
“But he may have worked on the railway line all the same.”
“The only work Quiggin the Elder ever did on the railway line,” said Brightman, becoming more assertive at encountering argument, “was probably to travel without a ticket.”
“But that doesn’t prove that his son has got any money,” said Humble, who did not care for Brightman.
“He was left a competence,” Brightman said. “Quiggin lives with his mother, who is a town councillor. Isn’t that true, Mark?”
A more vindictive man than Short might have been suspected of having raised the subject of Quiggin primarily to punish Members for his former attack on the strawberries; but Short was far too good-natured ever to have thought of such a revenge. Besides, he would never have considered baiting anyone whom he admired on intellectual grounds. Brightman, on the other hand, had no such scruples, and he went on to say: “Come on, Mark. Let’s hear your account of Quiggin. You are neighbours, acco