Books Do Furnish a Room - Anthony Powell [5]
‘I ran across Widmerpool when I was on loan to the Cabinet Office from my own Ministry,’ said Short. ‘We first met when I was staying in the country one weekend with a person of some import. I won’t mention names, but say no more than that the visit was one of work rather than play. Widmerpool came down on Sunday about an official matter, bringing some highly secret papers with him. We played a game of croquet in the afternoon as a short relaxation. I always remember how Widmerpool kept his briefcase under his arm – he was in uniform, of course – throughout the game. He nearly won it, in spite of that. Our host joked with him about his high regard for security, but Widmerpool would not risk losing his papers, even when he made his stroke.’
Sillery rocked himself backwards and forwards in silent enjoyment.
‘A very capable administrator,’ said Short. ‘Of course one can’t foretell what prospects such a man can have on the floor of the House. He may not necessarily be articulate in those very special surroundings. I’ve heard it suggested Widmerpool is better in committee. His speeches are inclined to alienate sympathy. Nevertheless, I am disposed to predict success.’
Neither of them would listen to assurances that I had known Widmerpool for years, which had indeed no particular relevance to his election to the House of Commons some little time before this. The event had taken place while I was myself still submerged in the country, getting through my army gratuity. At the time, Widmerpool’s arrival in Parliament seemed just another of the many odd things taking place roundabout, no concern of mine after reading of it in the paper. Back in London, occupied with sorting out the debris, physical and moral, with which one had to contend, Widmerpool’s political fortunes – like his unexpected marriage to Pamela Flitton – had been forgotten in attempts to warm up, as it were, charred fragments left over from the pre-war larder.
‘He’d probably have become a brigadier had hostilities continued,’ said Short. ‘I’m not at all surprised by the course he’s taken. At one moment, so he told me, he had ambitions towards a colonial governorship – was interested in those particular problems – but Westminster opens wider fields. The question was getting a seat.’
Sillery dismissed such a doubt as laughable for a man of ability.
‘Elderly trade unionists die, or reap the reward of years of toil by elevation to the Upper House – better merited, I add in all humility, than others I could name. The miners can spare a seat from their largesse, those hardy crofters of Scotland show a canny instinct for the right candidate.’
‘Between ourselves, I was able to do a little liaison work in the early stages,’ said Short. ‘That was after return to my old niche. I’d been told there was room for City men who’d be sensibly co-operative, especially if of a Leftward turn to start. Widmerpool’s attitude to Cheap Money made him particularly eligible.’
‘Cheap Money! Cheap Money!’
The phrase seemed to ravish Sillery by its beauty. He continued to repeat it, like the pirate’s parrot screeching ‘Pieces of eight’, while he clenched his fist in the sign of the old Popular Front.
Then suddenly Sillery’s manner changed. He began to rub his hands together, a habit that usually indicated the launching of one of his anti-personnel weapons, some explosive item of information likely to be brought out with damaging effect to whoever had just put forward some given view. Short, still contemplating Widmerpool’s chances, showed no awareness that danger threatened.
‘I don’t think he’ll be a back-bencher long,’ he said. ‘That’s my view.’
Sillery released the charge.
‘What about his wife?’
After that question Sillery paused in one of his most characteristic attitudes, that of the Chinese executioner who has so expertly severed a human head from the neck that it remains still apparently attached to the victim’s shoulders, while the headsman himself flicks an infinitesimal, all but invisible, speck of blood from the razor-sharp blade of his sword. Short coughed. He gave the impression of being surprised by a man of such enlightened intelligence as Sillery asking that.