EXPECTING
‘Dawn and I were married last week. We are expecting our first baby in two months. Dawn’s father, the Bishop of Bury, disapproves. He wanted her to finish her studies and he was against our adopting little ’Chang, the child of our Zen Master.’
WORLD CITIZEN
‘Yes, ’Chang is a Chinese name; our child is a World Citizen. Dawn’s father is against World Government. He does not understand Zen nor does he realize the importance of the empty or no-abiding mind. He thinks that people ought to work; Dawn and I know that it is sufficient to exist.’
SEVEN
So David, Dawn, and ’Chang are existing very comfortably at the expense of the taxpayer. I asked when they expect to leave for the East. ‘In seven hours, seven days, seven weeks, or seven years. It’s all the same to us.’
‘If it’s seven years,’ said Philip, ‘your successor will have to give them the entresol.’
As a matter of fact, we heard no more about going East; they settled quite contentedly into the best spare room over the Salon Vert. It seemed that the long maturing of the Sacred Unsubstantiality could come to pass quite as well in the Hôtel de Charost as in a Siberian gaol – better, perhaps, because they were not certain to find a Zen Master in the gaol whereas there was this excellent one at Issy-les-Moulineaux. Dawn felt tired and was not anxious to recontemplate the wisdom of the road. David told Mildred Jungfleisch all this and she kindly passed it on. No explanations were vouchsafed to me or Alfred, but the portents seemed to indicate a good long stay. I bought an Empire cradle which I set up in the Salon Vert and banned the blue plastic one from any of the rooms inhabited by us. This was the only step I took to assert my personality.
13
Valhubert joined the throng of Northey’s suitors. No doubt this was inevitable, but it worried me since he was in quite a different category from the others: a man of the world, experienced seducer, with time on his hands; I thought he would make mincemeat of the poor child. Besides I was very fond of Grace, my most intimate friend in Paris. She was obviously changing her mind about Northey; I never seemed to hear her say ‘What a darling’ any more. The other followers were rather a nuisance; they took up far too much of Northey’s time and attention and doubled the work of our telephone exchange but I did not think them dangerous. I used to have long confabulations on the subject with Katie, who, fond of Northey and in a commanding position, was invaluable to me. She was sensible in a particularly English way in spite of having lived abroad for years. She had been at the Embassy longer than anybody else, since before the war, during which she had worked with the Free French.
‘Of course, I don’t listen,’ she said, ‘but sometimes I can’t help hearing.’
‘Do listen as hard as you can, Katie. It’s so important for me to know what she’s up to. I’m responsible for her, don’t forget.’
‘You needn’t worry – she doesn’t care a pin for any of them; she drags in the name of Philip whenever possible. They must be sick of being told that she worships him, poor things. Of course, the ones who can use the secret line, but I feel it’s exactly the same. She’s so transparent, isn’t she!’
‘What do the French think of it all, I wonder?’
‘The worst, of course, but then they always do. If she had no followers at all they would say she’s a Lesbian or has got a lover in the Embassy. You can’t count what they think.’
‘Tell me something, Katie. Does she often speak to Phyllis McFee?’
‘Who?’
‘A Scotch girl who is working here in Paris –’
‘Never, as far as I know.’
‘That’s funny. When she doesn’t want to do anything she always drags in Phyllis McFee as an excuse.’
‘She’s probably shut up in some office where she can’t use the telephone.’
‘Well –’ I said, ‘I wonder!’
I did not ask Katie about M. de Valhubert but I knew that he was constantly on the line. I also noticed that Phyllis McFee, whose name had hitherto cropped up at regular but reasonable intervals, now seemed to be Northey’s inseparable companion.
‘Northey, aren’t you rather behind-hand with my letters?’
‘Not bad – about twelve, I think.’
‘Why don’t you sit down and finish them after dinner, then they would be off your mind?’
‘Because tonight, actually, Phyllis McFee and me are going to Catch.’
‘Catch?’
‘That’s French for all-in wrestling.’
‘Darling, it’s really not suitable for two girls to go alone to all-in wrestling.’
‘We shan’t be alone. Phyllis McFee and me have got admirers. We shall be escorted.’
‘How can you bear to watch it?’
‘I adore it. I love to see horrible humans torturing each other for a change instead of sweet animals. L’Ange Blanc, the champion, has got the fingers of a doctor, he knows just where it hurts the most –’
‘Funny sort of doctor. But there’s still the question of the letters. They can’t be put off indefinitely.’
‘I say, Fan, you know how you’re not dining out?’
‘You want me to do them? But what do I pay you for?’
‘You won’t be paying me anything at all until November the twenty-eighth next year. I’ve borrowed until then. Fanny – each for each?’
‘Oh, very well. Bring me your little typewriter and I’ll do them in bed.’ Only young once; we did not have these boring jobs at that age. Indeed when we were that age, Polly Hampton, my cousins and I, it was as much our duty to go out with young men and enjoy ourselves as now it was
