At Lady Molly's - Anthony Powell [71]
‘Know him well?’
‘Quite well.’
‘Then I expect you know he is going to marry someone called Mildred Haycock, who was also there that night.’
‘I do.’
‘Know her too?’
‘Not really. I met her once when I was a small boy.’
‘Exactly. You were a small boy and she was already grown up. In other words, she is quite a bit older than Widmerpool.’
‘I know. She was a nurse at Dogdene when your wife was there, wasn’t she—?’
‘Wait a moment—wait a moment;’ said Jeavons. ‘Not so fast. Don’t rush ahead. That’s all part of the story.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Well, as I was saying, you did occasionally have a spot of fun in those days. Especially on leave. That’s the point. No good going too fast. Had to dodge the A.P.M., of course. Still, that’s by the way. Now I happened to get ninety-six hours’ leave at short notice when I hadn’t time to make any arrangements. Found the easiest thing was to spend the time in London. Didn’t know a soul there. Not a bloody cat. Well, after I’d had a bit of a lie-up in bed, I thought I’d go to a show. The M.O. had told me to look in on Daly’s, if I got the chance. It was a jolly good piece of advice. The Maid of the Mountains. Top-hole show. José Collins. She married into the aristocracy like myself, but that’s nothing to do with the story. I bought myself a stall, thinking I might catch a packet in the next ‘strafe’ and never sit in a theatre again. Hadn’t been there long before a large party came in and occupied the row in front of me. There were a couple of guardsmen in their grey greatcoats and some ladies in evening dress. Among this lot was a nurse—a V.A.D.—who, as I thought—and it subsequentiy proved correct—began to give me the glad eye.’
Jeavons paused to gulp his drink. He shook his head and sighed. There was a long silence. I feared this might be the termination of the story: a mere chronicle of nostalgic memory: a face seen on that one occasion, yet always remembered: a romantic dream that had remained with him all his life. I spurred him gently.
‘What did you do about it?’
‘About what?’
‘The nurse who gave you the glad eye.’
‘Oh yes, that. In the interval we managed to have a word together in the bar or somewhere. Next thing I knew, I was spending my leave with her.’
‘And this was—’
‘Mrs. Haycock—or, as she then was, the Honourable Mildred Blaides.’
Jeavons’s expression was so oracular, his tone so solemn, when he pronounced the name with the formal prefix attached, that I laughed. However, he himself remained totally serious in his demeanour. He sat there looking straight at me, as if the profound moral beauty of his own story delighted him rather than any purely anecdotal quality, romantic or banal, according to how you took it.
‘And you never saw her again from that time until the other night?’
‘Never set eyes on her. Of course, I’ve often heard Molly speak of Mildred Blaides and her goings-on, but I never knew it was the same girl. She and Molly used to meet sometimes. It so happened, for one reason or another, I was never there.’
‘Did she say anything about it the other night?’
‘Not a word. Didn’t recognise me. After all, I suppose I’ve got to take my place in what must be a pretty long list by now.’
‘You didn’t say anything yourself?’
‘Didn’t want to seem to presume on a war-time commission, so I kept mum. Besides, it’s just as well Molly shouldn’t know. If you gas about that sort of thing too much, the story is bound to get round. Silly of me to tell you, I expect. You’ll keep your trap shut, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Just thought it might interest you—especially as you know Widmerpool.’
‘It does—enormously.’
‘That’s the sort of thing that happens in a war. Happens to some chaps in peace-time too, I suppose. Not chaps like me. Haven’t the temperament. Things have changed a lot now anyway. I don’t mean people don’t sleep with each other any longer. Of course they do. More than ever, if what everyone says nowadays is true. But the whole point of view is different somehow. I expect you were too young to have seen The Bing Boys?’
‘No, I wasn’t too young. I saw the show as a schoolboy.