‘I don’t think you need worry about her a bit,’ I said, ‘your mother has altered completely in the last two years.’
I could not very well say my real thought, which was that Lady Montdore no longer cared a rap for Boy or for Polly, and that she would most likely be quite friendly to them now, it all depended upon Cedric’s attitude, everything did nowadays, as far as she was concerned.
Presently, when we were settled at our table at Fuller’s, among the fumed oak and the daintiness (‘Isn’t everything clean and lovely – aren’t the waitresses fair – you can’t think how dark the waiters always are, abroad.’) and had ordered our Dover soles, Polly said that now I must tell her all about Cedric.
‘Do you remember,’ she said, ‘how you and Linda used to look him up to see if he would do?’
‘Well, he wouldn’t have done,’ I said, ‘that’s one thing quite certain.’
‘So I imagine,’ said Polly.
‘How much do you know about him?’
I suddenly felt rather guilty at knowing so much myself and hoped that Polly would not think I had gone over to the enemy’s camp. It is so difficult for somebody who is as fond of sport as I am to resist running with the hare and hunting with the hounds whenever possible.
‘Boy made friends, in Sicily, with an Italian called Pincio, he is writing about a former Pincio in his new book, and this wop knew Cedric in Paris, so he told us a lot about him. He says he is very pretty.’
‘Yes, that’s quite true.’
‘How pretty, Fan, prettier than me?’
‘No. One doesn’t have to gaze and gaze at him like one does with you.’
‘Oh, darling, you are so kind. Not any longer though, I fear.’
‘Just exactly the same. But he is very much like you, didn’t the duke say that?’
‘Yes. He said we were Viola and Sebastian. I must say I die for him.’
‘He dies for you, too. We must arrange it.’
‘Yes, after the baby – not while I’m such a sight. You know how cissies hate pregnant ladies. Poor Pinchers would do anything to get out of seeing me, lately. Go on telling more about Cedric and Mummy.’
‘I really think he loves your mother, you know. He is such a slave to her, never leaves her for a moment, always in high spirits – I don’t believe anybody could put it on to that extent, it must be love.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Polly. ‘I used to love her before she began about the marrying.’
‘There!’ I said.
‘There what?’
‘Well, you told me once that you’d hated her all your life, and I knew it wasn’t true.’
‘The fact is,’ said Polly, ‘when you hate somebody you can’t imagine what it’s like not hating them, it’s just the same as with love. But of course, with Mummy, who is such excellent company, so lively, you do love her before you find out how wicked she can be. And I don’t suppose she’s in all that violent hurry to get Cedric off that she was with me.’
‘No hurry,’ I said.
Polly’s blank blue look fell upon my face. ‘You mean she’s in love with him herself?’
‘In love? I don’t know. She loves him like anything, he makes such fun for her, you see, her life has become so amusing. Besides, she must know quite well that marriage isn’t his thing exactly, poor Cedric.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Polly. ‘Boy agrees with me that she knows nothing, nothing whatever about all that. He says she once made a fearful gaffe about Sodomites, mixing them up with Dolomites, it was all over London. No, I guess she’s in love. She’s a great, great faller in love, you know, I used to think at one time that she rather fancied Boy, though he says not. Well, it’s all very annoying because I suppose she doesn’t miss me one little bit, and I miss her, often. And now tell me, how’s my Dad?’
‘Very old,’ I said. ‘Very old, and your mother so very young. You must be prepared for quite as much of a shock when you see her as when you see him.’
‘No, really? How d’you mean, very young? Dyed hair?’
‘Blue. But what one chiefly notices is that she has become thin and supple, quick little movements, flinging one leg over the other, suddenly sitting on the floor and so on. Quite like a young person.’
‘Good gracious,’ said Polly, ‘and she used to be so very stiff and solid.’
‘It’s Mr Wixman, Cedric’s and her masseur. He pounds and pulls for an hour every morning, then she has another hour in a hay-box – full-time work, you know, what with the creaming and splashing and putting on a mask and taking it off again and having her nails done and her feet and then all the exercises, as well as having her teeth completely rearranged and the hair zipped off her arms and legs – I truly don’t think I could be bothered.’
‘Operations on her face?’
‘Oh, yes, but that was ages ago. All the bags and wrinkles gone, eyebrows plucked and so on. Her face is very tidy now.’
‘Of course, it may seem odd here,’ said Polly, ‘but, you know, there are hundreds and hundreds of women like that abroad. I suppose she stands on her head and lies in the sun? Yes, they all do. She must be a sight, scene or no scene, I utterly can’t wait for her, Fanny, when can we arrange it?’
‘Not for the moment, they’re in London now, fearfully busy with the Longhi Ball they are giving at Montdore House. Cedric came to see me the other
