The Acceptance World - Anthony Powell [61]
‘Do you ever go to trotting races?’
‘No.’
She looked very surprised at the question.
‘I thought not,’ he said, laughing at her astonishment. ‘I became interested when I was in the States. The Yanks are very keen on trotting races. So are the French. In this country no one much ever seems to go. However, I met Foppa, here, down at Greenford the other day and we got on so well that we arranged to go to Caversham together. The next thing is I find myself playing piquet with him in his own joint.’
Foppa laughed at this account of the birth of their friendship, and rubbed his hands together.
‘You had all the luck tonight, Mr. Umfraville,’ he said. ‘Next time I have my revenge.’
‘Certainly, Foppa, certainly.’
However, in spite of the way the cards had fallen, Foppa seemed pleased to have Umfraville in the club. Later, I found that one of Umfraville’s most fortunate gifts was a capacity to take money off people without causing offence.
A moment or two of general conversation followed in which it turned out that Jean had met Barnby on one of his visits to Stourwater. She knew, of course, about his former connection with Baby Wentworth, but when we had talked of this together, she had been uncertain whether or not they had ever stayed with Sir Magnus Donners at the same time. They began to discuss the week-end during which both had been in the same large house-party. Anne Stepney, possibly to avoid a further immediate impact with Umfraville before deciding how best to treat him, crossed the room to examine Victor Emmanuel’s picture. Umfraville and I were, accordingly, left together. I asked if he remembered Stringham in Kenya.
‘Charles Stringham?’ he said. ‘Yes, of course I knew him. Boffles Stringham’s son. A very nice boy. But wasn’t he married to her sister?’
He lowered his voice, and jerked his head in Anne’s direction.
‘They are divorced now.’
‘Of course they are. I forgot. As a matter of fact I heard Charles was in rather a bad way. Drinking enough to float a battleship. Of course, Boffles likes his liquor hard, too. Have you known Charles long?’
‘We were at the same house at school—Le Bas’s.’
‘Not possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I was at Le Bas’s too. Not for very long. I started at Corderey’s. Then Corderey’s house was taken over by Le Bas. I was asked to leave quite soon after that—not actually sacked, as is sometimes maliciously stated by my friends. I get invited to Old Boy dinners, for example. Not that I ever go. Usually out of England. As a matter of fact I might go this year. What about you?’
‘I might. I haven’t been myself for a year or two.’
‘Do come. We’ll make up a party and raise hell. Tear Claridge’s in half. That’s where they hold it, isn’t it?’
‘Or the Ritz.’
‘You must come.’
There was a suggestion of madness in the way he shot out his sentences; not the kind of madness that was raving, nor even, in the ordinary sense, dangerous; but a warning that no proper mechanism existed for operating normal controls. At the same time there was also something impelling about his friendliness: this sudden decision that we must attend the Old Boy dinner together. Even though I knew fairly well—at least flattered myself I knew well—the type of man he was, I could not help being pleased by the invitation. Certainly, I made up my mind immediately that I would go to the Le Bas dinner, upon which I was far from decided before. In fact, it would be true to say that Umfraville had completely won me over; no doubt by the shock tactics against which Sillery had issued his original warning. In such matters, though he might often talk nonsense, Sillery possessed a strong foundation of shrewdness. People who disregarded his admonitions sometimes lived to regret it.