The Soldier's Art - Anthony Powell [42]
“When did all this start?”
“Pretty soon after they first met.”
“I see.”
“I was down at that godforsaken place on the East Coast. There was nowhere near for her to live. It wasn’t my fault we weren’t together.”
“Is Stevens stationed in Scotland?”
“So far as I know. He did rather well somewhere – was if the Lofoten raid? That sort of thing. He’s a hero on top of everything else. I suppose if I were to do something where I could get killed, instead of composing lists of signal equipment and suchlike, I might make a more interesting husband.”
“I don’t think so for a moment.”
In giving this answer, I spoke a decided opinion. To assume such a thing was a typical instance of Lovell’s taste, mentioned earlier, for the obvious. It was a supposition bound to lead to a whole host of erroneous conclusions – that was how the conjecture struck me – regarding his own, or anyone else’s, married life.
“You may be right,” he said.
He spoke as if rather relieved.
“Look at it the other way. Think of all the heroes who had trouble with their wives.”
“Who?”
“Agamemnon, for instance.”
“Well, that caused enough dislocation,” said Lovell. “What’s Stevens like, apart from his heroism?.”
“In appearance?”
“Everything about him.”
“Youngish, comes from Birmingham, traveller in costume jewellery, spot of journalism, good at languages, short, thickset, very fair hair, easy to get on with, keen on the girls.”
“Sounds not unlike me,” said Lovell, “except that up to date I’ve never travelled in costume jewellery – and I still rather pride myself on my figure.”
“There is a touch of you about him, Chips. I thought so at Aldershot.”
“You flatter me. Anyway, he seems more of a success than I am with my own wife. If he is keen on the girls, I suppose making for Priscilla would be a matter of routine?”
“So I should imagine.”
“You liked him?”
“We got on pretty well.”
“Why was he Returned-to-Unit?”
“For cutting a lecture.”
Lovell seemed all at once to lose interest in Stevens and his personality. His manner changed. There could be no doubt he was very upset.
“So far as I can see there was nothing particularly wrong with our marriage,” he said. “If I hadn’t been sent to that God-awful spot, it would have gone on all right. At least that’s how things appeared to me. I don’t particularly want a divorce even now.”
“Is there any question of a divorce?”
“It isn’t going to be much fun living with a woman who’s in love with someone else.”
“Lots of people do it, and vice versa.”
“At best, it’s never going to be the same.”
“Nothing ever remains the same. Marriage or anything else.”
“I thought your theory was that everything did always remain the same?”
“Everything alters, yet does remain the same. It might even improve matters.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Not really.”
“Neither do I,” said Lovell, “though I see what you mean. That’s if she’s prepared to come back and live with me. I’m not even sure of that. I think she wants to marry Stevens.”
“She must be mad.”
“Mad she may be, but that’s the way she’s talking.”
“Where’s Caroline?”
“My parents are looking after her.”
“And Priscilla herself?”
“Staying with Molly Jeavons – though I only found out that by chance yesterday. She’s been moving about among various relations, is naturally at times rather vague about her whereabouts, so far as keeping me informed is concerned.”
“You’ve dished all this up with her?”
“On my last leave – making it a charming affair.”
“But lately?”
“Since then, we’ve been out of touch more than once. We are at this moment, until I found, quite by chance, she was at the Jeavonses