Some friends of Hughie’s now came in, accompanied by two charming little boys. They said ‘hullo’, looked with interest at Sigi, and went through to another room. ‘See you later, perhaps.’
‘They look rather nice,’ said Grace to Miles. ‘Do you know them?’
‘Who, Stocker?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, he’s in my house.’
‘Is he nice?’ she persevered.
‘He’s just a boy.’
‘Yes, I see. And the other?’
‘The other one is a tug. We must only hope Badger-Skeffington doesn’t see him. Badger-Skeffington is the scourge of the tugs.’
‘What is a tug?’ said Sigi.
‘Somebody a bit brighter in the head than the rest,’ said Grace, to tease Hughie. He was suddenly very much on her nerves. They had been too much lately at Yeotown, she thought, and decided they must have a few days in London, though no doubt Sigi would complain dreadfully at being dragged away from his riding and all the games.
After luncheon they went with Miles to his house, and there they followed him through a rabbit warren of passages and up and down little dark staircases. A deathly silence reigned.
‘How empty it all seems,’ said Grace. ‘Where’s everybody?’
‘Having boys’ dinner.’
‘Very late.’
‘Yes, well, it doesn’t make much difference. Late or early there’s literally nothing to eat.’
Miles’s room, when they finally got to it, was extraordinarily bare and bleak. The walls were beige, the window curtains orange, and a black curtain hung from ceiling to floor in one corner. Over the empty fireplace there was a valedictory poem, illuminated and framed, on the closing of the Derby racecourse.
There’ll be no more racing at Derby
It rings indeed like a knell, etc., etc.
It was terribly cold, colder than winter. Grace sat on the only chair, huddling into her fur coat, and the others stood round her as if she were a stove.
‘Is this your bedroom?’ Sigi said, taking in every detail.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Is there a bed?’ If he had been told that Miles slept on a heap of rags on the floor, like the concierges in Poland, he would not have been at all surprised.
‘Here, of course,’ said Miles scornfully. He lifted the black curtain to disclose an iron instrument against the wall. ‘You pull it down at night, and the boys’ maid makes it. And now, Uncle Hughie, if you’ll excuse me, I must go off and do my time. Will you wait here or what?’
‘I’m so terribly cold,’ Grace said imploringly to Hughie. ‘Couldn’t we go home?’
‘Well, rather bad luck on Miles when we’ve come to take him out. His time won’t last more than three-quarters of an hour, you know.’
‘Give him two pounds, he won’t mind a bit,’ she whispered.
‘Oh I say, Uncle Hughie, thanks very much. Are you going, then?’ he said, in tones of undisguised relief. ‘Good-bye. Will you excuse me? – I shall be late.’ He clattered away down the passage.
‘Really, Grace – two pounds! I usually give him ten bob.’
‘I’ll go shares,’ she said, ‘put it on the bridge book. Worth it to me, I was dying of cold simply.’
The visit to Eton finished off Hughie’s chances of marrying Grace for ever. Sigismond had seen a red light, and immediately took action.
‘Mummy!’
‘Hullo – you’re early this morning!’
‘Well yes, I’ve got something rather important to say. You know Hughie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Were you thinking of marrying him?’
‘Why, darling?’
‘The Nannies always say you will.’
‘Would you like me to?’
‘That’s just the point. I would not.’
‘Oh – Sigi –!’
‘No use pretending, I would not.’
‘Very well, darling. I promise I’ll never marry anybody you don’t like. And now just go and tell Nanny to pack, will you? We’re going up to London after luncheon.’
Sigi gave his mother a nice hug and trotted off. He was not at all dissatisfied to find himself later in the day on the road back to London. The riding and the games had been great fun, but if they were to lead to the prison house, whose shades he had now seen for himself, they simply were not worth it.
10
All this time the Captain had been going on with his pursuit of Grace, and of course he too had seen that, if there were a way to her heart, that heart so curiously absent, it would be through Sigismond.
‘Bring him to Sir Theseus on Thursday afternoon,’ he said.
‘My dear Captain – is Phèdre very suitable for little boys?’
‘Exquise Marquise, what about the Matinée Classique at the Français – is it not full of little boys seeing Phèdre?’
‘All right then,’ she said. It was a comfort to her to be with somebody who knew about the Matinée Classique and other features of French life. Hughie, in spite of all his efforts to educate himself in the Albertine days, had never really got much further than the Ritz bar, and now his love for everything French had turned to unreasonable hatred. Whenever Grace spoke to him of France he would say horrid little things which annoyed her. Like many large, bluff, and apparently good-natured men, Hughie had a malevolent side to his character, and knew exactly how to stick a pin where it hurt. He was always exceedingly catty about the Captain, who spoke, however, rather charmingly of him.
‘Why does he hate her so much?’ asked Sigi, as Hyppolitus recoiled in homosexual horror before the advancing Phaedra.
‘Because she’s his stepmother.’
‘Oh. If Papa married Madame Marel would she be my stepmother and would I hate her?’
‘Sh – darling, don’t talk so loud, it’s rude to the actors.’
She couldn’t very well have said it was disturbing to the audience. A beautiful, hot day, one of the very few that summer, had not been helpful
