Casanova's Chinese Restaurant - Anthony Powell [69]
He said these words in such an appealing tone that I felt torn inwardly to think of the condition he must be in, of the circumstances in which he must live. His awareness of his own state seemed almost worse than total abandonment to the bottle. It looked very much as if he might just have come on to his mother’s house that night from one of those ‘very quick drinks’ with Jeavons; perhaps felt unable to bring himself to return to Miss Weedon’s flat and paint in gouache – if it was really with painting that he therapeutically ordered his spare time. His life with Miss Weedon was impossible to contemplate.
‘Do you know this fellow Moreland?’ he went on. ‘I gather from Buster that the party is being given in Moreland’s honour – that he is a famous musician apparently. It just shows how right it is that I should have to live as a hermit, not to know that Moreland is a famous musician – and have to be told by Buster. All the same, it cuts both ways. If you are a hermit, you can’t be expected to keep up with all the latest celebrities. Buster, of course, was quite incapable of giving any real information about Moreland, the party, the guests, or anything else. He is awfully stupid, poor old Buster. An absolute ape. You know a fact that strikes one very forcibly as one grows older is that some people are intelligent and some are stupid. I don’t set up as an intellectual myself – even though I am a great hand with the paintbrush, did they tell you that, Nick? – but if I were as ill-informed as Buster, I should take steps to educate myself. Go to a night-school or hire a well-read undergraduate to teach me a few things in the long vac. The person I shall have to get hold of is Norman. He will tell me all about everything. Have you met Norman yet? He is simply charming. He is – well, I don’t want to labour the point, and I can see from your face you have guessed what I was going to say, and you are quite right. All the same, my mother has taken him up in a big way. You must meet Norman, Nick.’
‘But I know him well. I have known him for years.’
‘I am surprised at the company you must have been keeping, Nick. Known him for years, indeed. I shouldn’t have thought it of you. And a married man too. But you do agree, don’t you, that Norman is a delightful fellow?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I knew you would. I can’t tell you how good Norman has been for my mother. Brilliant ideas and helpful comment don’t exactly gush from Buster, with all his manly qualities. Besides, when it comes to doing odd jobs about the house, Buster is no good with his hands. What, you say, a sailor and no good with his hands? I don’t believe you. It’s the perfect truth. I sometimes tease him about it. He doesn’t always take that in good part. Now, at last there is someone in the house who can turn to when it comes to hanging a picture or altering the place of a piece of furniture without smashing the thing to a thousand fragments. Not only that, but Norman decides what detective stories ought to come from the Times Book Club, settles what plays must be seen, gives good advice to my mother about hats – in fact excels at all the things poor old Buster fails at so lamentably. On top of that, Norman won’t be bullied. He gets his own way. He is just about the only person who deals with my mother who does get his own way.’
‘Jolly good.’
‘Look here, Nick, you are not being serious. I want to be serious. People are always charging me with not being sufficiently serious. There is something serious I want to ask you. You know the Abdication?’
‘I heard something about it.