The Kindly Ones - Anthony Powell [18]
‘I do quite understand, Albert,’ she said. ‘Of course we shall all be very, very sorry.’
Albert nodded heavily several times. He was too moved to speak.
‘Very sorry, indeed. It has been a long time …’
‘I thought I’d better tell you first, ma’am,’ said Albert, ‘so you could explain to the Captain. Didn’t want it to come to him as a shock. He takes on so. I’ve had this letter since yesterday. Couldn’t bring myself to show you at first. Haven’t slept for thinking of it.’
‘Yes, Albert.’
My father was out that morning, as it happened. He had to look in at the Orderly Room that Sunday, for some reason, and was not expected home until midday. Albert swallowed several times. He looked quite haggard. The flesh of his face was pouched. I could see the situation was upsetting my mother too. Albert’s voice shook when he spoke at last.
‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I’ve been goaded to this.’
He shuffled off to the kitchen. There were tears in his eyes. I was aware that I had witnessed a painful scene, although, as so often happens in childhood, I could not analyse the circumstances. I felt unhappy myself. I knew now why I had foreseen something would go wrong as soon as I had woken that morning.
‘Come along,’ said my mother, turning quickly and giving her own eyes a dab, ‘we shall be late for church. Is Edith ready?’
‘What did Albert want?’
‘Promise to keep a secret, if I tell you?’
‘I promise.’
‘Albert is going to get married.’
‘To Billson?’
My mother laughed aloud.
‘No,’ she said, ‘to someone he knows who lives at Bristol.’
‘Will he go away?’
‘I’m afraid he will.’
‘Soon?’
‘Not for a month or two, he says. But you really must not say anything about it. I ought not to have told you, I suppose. Run along at once for Edith. We are going to be dreadfully late.’
My mother was greatly given to stating matters openly. In this particular case, she was probably well aware that Albert himself would not be slow to reveal his future plans to the rest of the household. No very grave risk was therefore run in telling me the secret. At the same time, such news would never have been disclosed by my father, a confirmed maker of mysteries, who disliked imparting information of any but a didactic kind. If forced to offer an expose of any given situation, he was always in favour of presenting the substance of what he had to say in terms more or less oracular. Nothing in life – such was his view – must ever be thought of as easy of access. There is something to be said for that approach. Certainly few enough things in life are easy. On the other hand, human affairs can become even additionally clouded with obscurity if the most complicated forms of definition are always deliberately sought. My father really hated clarity. This was a habit of mind that sometimes led him into trouble with others, when, unable to appreciate his delight in complicated metaphor and ironic allusion, they had not the faintest idea what he was talking about. It was, therefore, by the merest chance that I was immediately put in possession of the information that Albert was leaving. I should never have learnt that so early if my father had been at home. We went off to church, my mother, Edith and I. The morning service took about an hour. We arrived home just as my father drove up in the car on his return from barracks. Edith disappeared towards the day-nursery.
‘It’s happened,’ said my mother.
‘What?’
My father’s face immediately became very grave.
‘Albert.’
‘Going?’
‘Getting married at last.’
‘Oh, lord.’
‘We thought it was coming, didn’t we?’
‘Oh, lord, how awful.’
‘We’ll get someone else.’
‘Never another cook like Albert.’
‘We may find someone quite good.’
‘They won’t live up here.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll find somebody. I’ll start on Monday.’
‘I knew this was going to happen.’
‘We both did.’
‘That doesn’t help.’
‘Never mind.’
‘But today, of all days, oh, lord.’
Their reception of the news showed my parents were already to some extent prepared for this blow to fall, anyway accepted, more or less philosophically, that Albert’s withdrawal into married life was bound to come sooner or later. Nevertheless, it was a disturbing state of affairs: the termination of a long and close relationship. No more was said at that moment because