Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh [96]
'Oh, Charles, that's old history. That was nothing. It was never anything. It's all over and forgotten.'
'I just wanted to know,' I said. 'We're back as we were the day I went abroad, is that it?'
So we started that day exactly where we left off two years before, with my wife in tears.
My wife's softness and English reticence , her very white, small regular teeth, her neat rosy finger-nails, her schoolgirl air of innocent mischief and her schoolgirl dress, her modern jewellery, which was made at great expense to give the impression, at a distance, of having been mass produced, her ready, rewarding smile, her deference to me and her zeal in my interests, her motherly heart which made her cable daily to the nanny at home—in short, her peculiar charm—made her popular among the Americans, and our cabin on the day of departure was full of cellophane packages—flowers, fruit, sweets, books, toys for the children—from friends she had known for a week. Stewards, like sisters in a nursing home, used to judge their passengers' importance by the number and value of these trophies; we therefore started the voyage in high esteem.
My wife's first thought on coming aboard was of the passenger list.
'Such a lot of friends,' she said. 'It's going to be a lovely trip. Let's have a cocktail party this evening.'
The companion-ways were no sooner cast off than she was busy with the telephone.
'Julia. This is Celia—Celia Ryder. It's lovely to find you on board. What have you been up to? Come and have a cocktail this evening and tell me all about it.'
'Julia who?'
'Mottram. I haven't seen her for years.'
Nor had I; not, in fact, since my wedding day, not to speak to for any time, since the private view of my exhibition where the four canvases of Marchmain House, lent by Brideshead, had hung together attracting much attention. Those pictures were my last contact with the Flytes; our lives, so close for a year or two, had drawn apart. Sebastian, I knew, was still abroad; Rex and Julia, I sometimes heard said, were unhappy together. Rex was not prospering quite as well as had been predicted; he remained on the fringe of the Government, prominent but vaguely suspect. He lived among the very rich, and in his speeches seemed to incline to revolutionary policies, flirting, with Communists and Fascists. I heard the Mottrams' names in conversation; I saw their faces now and again peeping from the Tatler, as I turned the pages impatiently waiting for someone to come, but they and I had fallen apart, as one could in England and only there, into separate worlds, little spinning planets of personal relationship; there is probably a perfect metaphor for the process to be found in physics, from the way in which, I dimly apprehend, particles of energy group and regroup themselves in separate magnetic systems; a metaphor ready to hand for the man who can speak of these things with assurance; not for me, who can only say that England abounded in these small companies of intimate friends, so that, as in this case of Julia and myself, we could live in the same street in London, see at times, a few miles distant, the rural horizon, could have a liking one for the other, a mild curiosity about the other's fortunes, a regret, even, that we should be separated, and the knowledge that either of us had only to pick up the telephone and speak by the other's pillow, enjoy the intimacies of the levee, coming in, as it were, with the morning orange juice and the sun, yet be restrained from doing so by the centripetal force of our own worlds, and the cold, interstellar space between them.
My wife, perched on the back of the sofa in a litter of cellophane and silk ribbons, continued telephoning, working brightly through the passenger list...'Yes, do of course bring him, I'm told he's sweet...Yes, I've got Charles back from the wilds at last; isn't it lovely...What a treat seeing your name in the list! It's made my trip...darling, we were at the Savoy-Carlton, too; how can we have missed you?'...Sometimes she turned to me and said: 'I have to make sure you're still really there. I haven't got used to it yet.'