The Death of the Heart - Elizabeth Bowen [102]
Dickie said: "We are making rather a row."
But Mr. Bursely was also out of control. He and Eddie had made one of those genuine contacts that are only possible after drinks. With watery, dream-like admiration they kept catching each other's eye. There was no doubt, Eddie worked Mr. Bursely up—first Mr. Bursely gave an imitation of Donald Duck, then, making a snatch at Daphne's green celluloid comb, he endeavoured to second the orchestra on it. When the music stopped, he tried a tune of his own. He said: "I'm a shepherd tootling to my sheep." "Sheep yourself," said Daphne, upsetting her third bronx. "Give me that back! Stop monkeying with my comb!" "Look here," Dickie said, "you can't make that row here." "There's no can't about it," said Mr. Bursely, "we are."
Portia heard a rush behind her; the curtains were being drawn; swathes of yellow silk rushed across the dark mauve dusk. Cecil went on with his whisky and said nothing. "Look here," Dickie said to Mr. Bursely and Eddie, "if you two don't shut up, I am taking the girls home."
"No, no, don't do that: we can't do without women."
Dickie said: "Better shut up, or you'll find yourself chucked out. This is not the Casino de Paris... I shall take the girls home, then."
"Right you are, Mussolini. Or let me."
"Not all the girls, you can't," said Mr. Bursely, shutting one eye and looking through Daphne's comb.
"Can't I?" giggled Eddie, whacking Cecil's shoulder. "You just ask Cecil: he knows France."
"I must say," said Evelyn sedately, "I do think you boys are awful."
"Well, you tell Cecil: Cecil's all in a dream."
"Cecil's a gentleman wherever he is," said Daphne, tenderly fingering Cecil's glass. "Cecil's a really nice boy, if you know what I mean. I've known Cecil since we were both kids. Haven't we known each other since we were kids, Cecil?... I asked you to stop monkeying with my comb. That's my comb you've got. Give that comb back here!"
"No, I'm tootling on it: I'm tootling to my sheep."
Dickie uncrossed his legs and leant back from the table. "Cecil," he said, "we had better get the girls home."
Cecil carefully smiled, then put his hand to his forehead. Then he rose and left the table abruptly. He was seen to steer his way between several other tables and vanish with the flash of a swing door. Clara said: "Now there are only seven of us."
"What a gap he leaves," said Eddie. "He was our only thinker. I dread feeling; I know Clara dreads feeling; I see that in her face. You do dread feeling, don't you, Clara? Oh God, look at the time. How am I to catch a train when I don't know where a train is? I say, Daphne, where do I find a train?"
"The sooner the better."
"I didn't ask when, I know when, I said where? Oh dear, you are a hard girl—I say, Evelyn, will you drive me to London? Let us rush through the night."
But Evelyn, buttoning her yellow coat, only said: "Well, Dickie, I'm off. I don't know what father would say—No thanks, Mr.—er—I don't want your telephone number."
"Oh God," Eddie said, "then you are casting me off?"
Then he turned full on Portia, across the table, his frantic swimming eyes. He said loudly: "Darling, what shall I do? I am behaving so badly. What shall I do?" Then he dropped his eyes, giggled and struck a match and burnt the long spill with his name on it in lipstick.
"There I go," he said: the ash dropped on the table and Eddie blew some about and ground the rest with his thumb. "I'd go," he said, "but I don't know where there's a train."
"We'll ask," Portia said. She got up and stood waiting.
"Well, goodbye, everybody, I've got to get back to London. Goodbye, goodbye: thanks ever so much."
But: "It's no use your saying goodbye," said Dickie contemptuously. "You must get back to Waikiki to get your things—if you can remember where that is? You also said that your train was at ten o'clock; it is now five minutes past eight. It is therefore no use your saying goodbye here. Hi, look here, you all: are you all going? Someone must wait for Cecil."
Eddie went white and said: "Well, you organise Cecil, blast you: let Portia organise me. That's the way we get drunks home."