The Death of the Heart - Elizabeth Bowen [101]
"Bursely?—Oh yes, the chappie. Well I really must say... I wonder where he and Daphne buzzed to, don't you?"
"They might even go to Dover."
They were still sitting over their tea at the Pavilion when Dickie, Evelyn, Clara and Cecil filed in. Evelyn wore a canary-coloured two piece, Clara a teddy bear coat tied in a bow at her chin. Dickie and Cecil were pinstriped all over—evidently everybody had changed. By this time, the Pavilion hung like an unlit lantern in the pinkish air; the orchestra was playing something from Samson and Delilah. Evelyn took her first look at Eddie, and asked if he liked hiking. Cecil, showing incuriosity, looked rather low. Clara kept her eyes on Dickie and said nothing: now and then she looked anxiously into her suede bag. As this was believed to be Mr. Bursely's party, nothing could start until he came. Dickie folded open a glass and chromium door and said the girls might like to look at the view.
From the balcony they looked down at the Lower Road, at the tops of the pines and the roof of the skating rink. Eddie leaned so far out over the railing that Portia feared he might be going to show them (as he had shown her) how far he could spit. All that happened, however, was that the violets fell through space from his buttonhole. "Now you've lost your flowers," said Evelyn brightly.
"Suppose I'd felt giddy?" Eddie said, with a look.
"Oh, would you be such a sap?"
"Your marvellous yellow coat might make me come over queer."
"I never," said Evelyn, not knowing how to take this.
"I say, Dickie, your friend's got a bad head. Don't you think we all ought to go in?"
Dickie looked at his watch, still more sternly than he had looked at it the time before. "I can't understand," he said. "I told Bursely I would have you girls along here by six. I took it that that was understood—it is now between twenty and twenty-five past. I hope he's not having trouble."
"Oh well, that's up to Daphne, isn't it?" said Evelyn, saucy, putting stuff on her mouth. Dickie paused till she put away the lipstick, then said coldly: "I mean, with the car."
"Oh, it's quite an easy car: I've driven it, so has Clara. I daresay Daphne's driving this afternoon. Look at Clara shivering. Do you feel cold, dear?"
"Slightly."
Indoors, among the mirrors and pillars, they found Mr. Bursely and Daphne, cosy over a drink. Reproaches and rather snooty laughs were exchanged, then Mr. Bursely, summoning the waiter, did what was right by everyone. Clara and Portia were given orangeade, with hygienic straws twisted up in paper; Daphne had another bronx, Evelyn a side-car. The men drank whisky—with the exception of Eddie, who asked for a double gin with a dash of angostura: this he insisted in dashing in himself, and so much fuss had seldom been made before. Daphne looked flushed and pleased. She had taken her hat off: while she talked she re-set her curls with one hand or the other, or glanced down confidentially at the dagger in her green velvet choker scarf. Mr. Bursely and she—sitting side by side, saying not much—looked extremely conscious of one another.
Sucking quietly, leaning back from the party, isolated at the end of her long straw, Portia looked on. Now and then her eyes went to the clock—in three hours, Eddie would be gone. She watched him getting excited, saying the next were on him. She watched his hand go to his pocket—would he have enough money? He showed Evelyn what was in his pocket book; he rolled back his cuff to show the hairs on his wrist. He asked Mr. Bursely whether he was tattooed. He picked up the straw that Clara had done sucking, and tickled her neck with it as she burrowed into her bag. "Oh, I say, Clara," he said, "you have never spoken to me." She looked at him like an askance mouse. He dashed too much angostura into his second gin, then had to send for another gin to drown it. Propping an elbow on Cecil's shoulder, he said how much he wished they could go to France together. He printed his name with Evelyn's lipstick on the piece of paper off Clara's straw. "Don't forget me," he said. "I'm certain you will forget me. Look, I'm putting my telephone number too."