‘Dearest,’ I said one day, ‘what about M. Cruas? Ought we not to pay him for his lessons?’ He came every afternoon for at least an hour, so Northey told me; he was evidently a good teacher as her French progressed amazingly.
‘No, Fanny, it’s not necessary, he comes for love. But if you have got a few thousand francs to spare, Phyllis McFee and me did a little recce in Main Street and saw un cocktail, prix shock, which is just my affair. Sharpen your wits, darling, it’s French for a cheap afternoon dress.’
This Phyllis McFee was a Scotch friend of Northey’s, from Argyllshire, who also had a job in Paris. So far I had not met her. I was glad that Northey had somebody to run round with, other than elderly cabinet ministers.
‘Oh you are kind, now I can go and buy it. So I’ve had my wages until August I think – anyway I keep a strict account you know, it’s all written carefully down.’
It could not exactly be said that Northey’s work suffered from all these distractions, she had such a genius for delegating it. ‘Each for each is what we teach’ meant that Alfred and I, Mrs Trott the housekeeper, Jérôme the chauffeur, Major Jarvis and Philip did practically all her various jobs for her. Our reward was ‘You are kind, oh the kindness of you.’ But quite apart from extraneous calls on her time and attention, she was not cut out to be a secretary, nobody has ever been less of a career woman. She lived, quite frankly, for pleasure.
‘I see what my boys mean when they say she is old-fashioned,’ I observed to Philip, ‘she is as frivolous as a figure of the twenties.’
‘Thank goodness for that anyway. These new ones make me despair of the female sex. I belong to the old world, that’s what it is, I talk its language – I’d sooner marry a Zulu woman of my own age than one of these gloomy beauties in red stockings.’
Quite good, I thought, as far as it went, but I was sorry to see that Philip showed no sign of falling in love with Northey. He burned for Grace and I feared that when that flame died down for want of fuel it would never be relit by Northey whom he regarded as a charming, funny little sister. I told her so. She had discovered that Grace was his love (enlightened, probably, by one of the followers, hoping to further his own suit) and came, eyes like diamonds, to communicate her dismay.
‘Horrible, horrible Grace, how could he?’
I thought it better to be astringent, not too sympathetic. ‘Last time we talked about her you said she was so fascinating.’
‘Never! Idiot, rolling her r’s and dressing up French. Besides, she’s as old as Time.’
‘As old as Philip.’
‘It’s different for a man as you know very well. Fanny, I can’t understand it.’
‘I’m afraid we never understand that others may be preferred to ourselves.’
‘Has Alfred ever preferred anyone to you?’
‘Yes, and very boring it was.’
‘But you managed?’
‘As you see. I think it’s a good thing, really, that you know about Philip and Grace.’
‘Why is it? I was much happier before.’
‘Because now you won’t go on harbouring dangerous illusions.’
‘More dangerous for me to despair.’
‘Don’t despair, but don’t be too hopeful, either. Remember that it would be a miracle if Philip fell in love with you, under the circumstances.’
‘Well, there are miracles. Why shouldn’t God do something for me?’
‘Yes, I only say don’t count on it.’
Philip, overhearing these words as he came into the Salon Vert, said, ‘If you’re after a miracle St Expédite is your boy. He’s a dear little Roman saint who deals with lost causes and he hangs out at St Roch. Only he doesn’t like it if you begin asking before the cause is really lost; you must be quite sure before you bother him. I thought we might get him on to the European Army soon. What do you want a miracle for, Mees?’
‘It was love and love alone that made King Edward leave his throne.’
‘Oh, love! Don’t tell me you’re keenly running after Bouche-Bontemps?’
‘You know I’m not, you brute.’ Brimming. ‘You know quite well who it is.’
‘By the way, I’d forgotten! That is a lost cause, I can tell you and I should know. There, there, mop them up. Are you going to the Chambre to see the old boy present his ministry?’
‘Of course. I’m his Egeria.’
‘Don’t be up until five again,’ I said.
‘No. He’s going to make one of his nutshell speeches – not more than two hours – he says they’ll have thrown him out by midnight.’
‘Oh, that’s how it is?’ said Philip. ‘I wasn’t sure. Excellent. Then we can get on with the Îles Minquiers.’
‘I wish I understood about these islands,’ said Northey.
‘So do I,’ said Philip.
‘Why do our papers keep saying the French should be urged to give them up for their own sake?’
‘Because we want them.’
‘If it’s good for us to have them, why is it good for the French to get rid of them?’
‘In the first place they almost certainly belong to us. Then there’s our altruism. In our great, true, sincere love for the French, knowing they will be better without the islands (and a great many other places as well) we are willing to take the responsibility for them off their shoulders. Now, put that in your pipe and stop asking questions. I’m a civil servant, policy is nothing to do with me, I am there to obey orders. I may add that I wish to heaven the bloody thing could be settled and forgotten – it’s poisoning my existence.’
The telephone bell rang. ‘Answer,’ I said to Northey, ‘and ask who it is.’
‘Hullo – oh – yes, he’s here – who is it? Quelle horrible surprise! It’s for you, an affected foreign voice,’ she said loudly, handing the receiver to Philip.
‘Grace? Oh, don’t pay any attention, she’s not quite all there, you know. The
