Books Do Furnish a Room - Anthony Powell [79]
‘Good-natured?’
Quiggin looked at Ada severely, but not without a suggestion of desire.
‘Parodies are intended to raise a laugh. Perhaps you did not know that, Ada. If someone had taken the trouble to show me the piece before it was printed, I might have done a little sub-editing here and there. I don’t promise it would have improved the whole, so perhaps it was better not.’
This speech indicated that Widmerpool might not have it all his own way, if he made too much fuss. It also confirmed indirectly the resentment of Widmerpool’s domination that, according to Bagshaw, Quiggin had begun increasingly to show. Judy, the secretary, feeling that some of these recriminations were directed against herself, or, more probably envious of the attention Quiggin was devoting to Ada, now began to protest.
‘How on earth was I to know one man had run away with the other man’s wife? Books just handed the copy over to me, saying he had a temperature of a hundred-and-two, and told me to get on with the job.’
‘Grown-up people always check on that particular point, my girl,’ said Quiggin. ‘Don’t worry. We’re not blaming you. Calm down. Take an aspirin. Isn’t it time for coffee? I admit I could have done without Bagshaw arranging this just at the moment the Sweetskin case is coming on, and all the to-do about Sad Majors.
I enquired as to Quiggin’s version of the Stevens trouble.
‘Odo’s written an excellent account of his time with the Partisans. Adventurous, personal, but a lot of controversial matter. Readers don’t want controversy. Why should they? Besides, it would be awkward for the firm to publish a book hinting some of the things Odo’s does, with Kenneth Widmerpool on the board. All his support for societies trying to promote good relations with that very country. You want to keep politics out of a book like that.’
‘Odo isn’t very interested in politics, is he?’
‘Not in a way, but he’s very obstinate.’
I left them still in a flutter about the parody. There was not much Widmerpool could do. It would increase his opposition to Bagshaw, but Bagshaw probably had a contract of some sort. At the end of that, if the magazine survived, Widmerpool was likely to try and get him sacked anyway. It was a typical Bagshaw situation. Meanwhile, he showed no sign of returning to the office. The message came that his flu was no better. Some evenings later there was a telephone call at home. A female voice asked for me.
‘Speaking.’
‘It’s Pamela Widmerpool.’
‘Oh, yes?’
She must have known I was answering, but for some reason of her own preferred to go through the process of making absolutely sure.
‘X is not well.’
‘ I’m very sorry —’
‘I want you to come and see him. He needs some books and things.’
‘But — ’
‘It’s really the only way – for you to come yourself.’
She spoke the last sentence irritably, as if the question of my bringing Trapnel aid in person had already arisen in the past, and, rather contemptibly, I had raised objections to making myself available. Now, it seemed, I was looking for a similar excuse again. She offered no explanation or apology for thus emerging as representative of the Trapnel, rather than Widmerpool, ménage. In taking on the former position there was not the smallest trace of self-consciousness.
‘This man Bagshaw has flu still. I can’t get any sense out of the half-witted girl left in charge at the Fission office. That’s why you must come.’
‘I was only going to say that I don’t know where you – where X is living.’
‘Of course you don’t. No one does. I’m about to tell you. Do you know the Canal at Maida Vale?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re a bit north of there.’
She gave the name of a street and number of the house. I wrote them down.
‘The ground-floor flat. Don’t be put off by the look of the place outside. It’s inhabited all right, though you might not think so. When can you come? Tonight?’
She added further instructions about getting there.
‘What’s wrong with X?’
‘He’s just feeling like hell.’
‘Has he seen a doctor?’
‘He won’t.’