The Acceptance World - Anthony Powell [30]
‘Who is “Jimmy”?’ I asked.
‘Surely you remember Jimmy Stripling when you stayed with us years ago?’ said Templer. ‘My brother-in-law. At least he was until Babs divorced him. Somehow I’ve never been able to get him out of my life. Babs can demand her freedom and go her own way. For me there is no legal redress. Jimmy hangs round my neck like a millstone. I can’t even get an annulment.’
‘Didn’t he go in for motor racing?’
‘That’s the chap.’
‘Who disliked Sunny Farebrother so much?’
‘Hated his guts. Well, Jimmy is coming to lunch today and bringing some sort of a piece with him—he asked if he could. Not too young, I gather, so your eyes need not brighten up. I can’t remember her name. I could not refuse for old times’ sake, though he is a terrible bore is poor old Jimmy these days. He had a spill at Brooklands a year or two ago. Being shot out of his car arse-first seems to have affected his brain in some way—though you wouldn’t think there was much there to affect.’
‘What does he do?’
‘An underwriter at Lloyd’s. It is not his business capacity so much as his private life that has seized up. He still rakes in a certain amount of dough. But he has taken up astrology and theosophy and numerology and God knows what else. Could your friend Quiggin stand that? Probably love it, wouldn’t he? The more the merrier so far as I’m concerned.’
‘Quiggin would eat it up.’
‘Do ring him, then,’ said Mona.
‘Shall I?’
‘Go ahead,’ said Templer. ‘The telephone is next door.’
There was no reply from Quiggin’s Bloomsbury flat, so I rang St. John Clarke’s number; on the principle that if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. The bell buzzed for some seconds, and then Quiggin’s voice sounded, gratingly, at the other end of the line. As I had supposed, he was already engaged on his new duties. At first he was very suspicious of my seeking him out at that place. These suspicions were not allayed when I explained about the invitation to lunch with the Templers.
‘But today’ he said, irritably. ‘Lunch today? Why, it’s nearly lunch-time already.’
I repeated to him Mona’s apologies for the undoubted lateness of the invitation.
‘But I don’t know them,’ said Quiggin. ‘Are they very rich?’
He still sounded cross, although a certain interest was aroused in him. I referred again to his earlier meeting with Mona.
‘So she remembered me at Deacon’s party after all?’ he asked, rather more hopefully this time.
‘She has talked of nothing but that evening.’
‘I don’t think I ought to leave St. J.’
‘Is he bad?’
‘Better, as a matter of fact. But there ought to be someone responsible here.’
‘Couldn’t you get Mark?’ I asked, to tease him.
‘St. J. does not want to see Mark just at the moment,’ said Quiggin, in his flattest voice, ignoring any jocular implications the question might have possessed. ‘But I suppose there is really no reason why the maid should not look after him perfectly well if I went out for a few hours.’
This sounded like weakening.
‘You could catch the train if you started now.’
He was silent for a moment, evidently anxious to accept, but at the same time trying to find some excuse for making himself so easily available.
‘Mona reads your articles.’
‘She does?’
‘Always quoting them.’
‘Intelligently?’
‘Come and judge for yourself.’
‘Should I like their house?’
‘You’ll have the time of your life.’
‘I think I will,’ he said. ‘Of course I shall be met at the station?’
‘Of course.’
‘All right, then.’
He replaced the receiver with a bang, as if closing an acrimonious interchange. I returned to the drawing-room. Templer was sprawling on the sofa, apparently not much interested whether Quiggin turned up or not.
‘He’s coming.’
‘Is he really?’ said Mona, shrilly. ‘How wonderful.’
‘Mona gets a bit bored with my friends,’ said Templer. ‘I must say I don’t blame her. Now you can sample something of another kind at lunch, sweetie.’
‘Well, we never see anybody interesting, sweetie,’ said Mona, putting on a stage pout. ‘He’ll at least remind me of the days when I used to meet intelligent people.’
‘Intelligent people?