running to waste in a heat-wave.'
At once she jumped up and, reaching the tap before I
could, pressed her hand over it and squirted a little, spraying
jet of water up into my face.
i'Clean slate? There you are!' She turned the tap off and
then, searching in my pockets with either hand, helped herself
to my handkerchief, wiped my face and then her own
wet wrists and fingers.
'The swing's nice, too. Is it safe? Will it bear me?'
'Oh, yes. I got new ropes for Angela only last summer.'
She sat in it, pushed off with her feet and swung gently to
and fro, her arms, raised high to the ropes, lifting her breasts
under her lime-green blouse.
'D'you think one could make love in a swing?'
'Oh, that Ro-middley again! I don't think it would be very
comfortable, do you?'
She dropped to the ground, lifted her skirt at the back and
twisted her head round to look at it.
'Ach, now the seat's made my bottom all grubby! It's
dry, though - just powder, really. Brush it off, darling,
please.'
247
I slapped and stroked the fragments from her buttocks
and she embraced me, sighing.
'Harder, Alan, harder!'
'There's a perfectly good bed upstairs, you know.'
'Yes; but supper first, I think. I'm hungry, aren't you?'
'Yes, I am: what is it?'
'Glazed spaghetti, I thought. Then everybody has garlic.
Oh, Alan, do you remember the dinner at the "Golden
Pheasant"? And the Schnecken? I was longing for you that
night, do you know that? Do snails really have an effect,
do you think?'
'It's only suggestion, really. They just remind you of something
else you sometimes have in your mouth, that's all.'
'M'mm, yum! I'm going to pick a bunch of these big white
daisies and some of the - what is it? - sorrel, and put them
in the drawing-room.'
'The sorrel'll drop all over the place.'
'Never mind; I do that too. Come on, help me, darling.
You go and pick some of those tall ones over there.'
We were just drying off the spaghetti when the telephone
rang. It was my mother. She seemed in excellent spirits, and
we chatted for several minutes about the beautiful weather,
the Faringdon sale, a picnic she had been on the day before
and the progress of Angela's reading. Then she said,
'Alan dear, I'll tell you why I'm ringing. You'll never believe
this, but I'm going to a dance on Wednesday night.'
'Good heavens, Mummy, what fun! Is it the county ball?'
'No, it's the Young Farmers. The old farmers have to keep
them in order, you see.'
'I don't see, but I'm sure it'll be marvellous.'
'Well, darling, I know it's asking a lot, but do you think
you could possibly look out my evening dress - you know,
the sort of goldy one - and the shoes that go with it and one
or two other things I'll tell you about now, and bring them
down? I can't afford a new evening outfit, and anyway that's
a very nice dress and I'd like to have it on Wednesday. But
there's no time for the post, you see.'
'Oh, Mummy, I'd love to come down, I really would, but I
just don't see how I can manage it. There's this Faringdon
248
sale to-morrow and then on Wednesday morning I've got an
appointment with two Americans - really rather important
customers. Let me think; what can we do? Why don't you
come up yourself? That'd be lovely.'
'I could, dear, but I'd rather not if it can be helped. You
see, I - oh, Alan, I've just thought! What about your beautiful
Kathe? Couldn't she come down with the things, and
then she could go to the dance with us? Bill can easily find
her a partner. It really would be such a help, Alan. I'd be so
grateful.'
She was pleading, in effect. It occurred to me that, although
I disliked the idea of being without Kathe even for
one night, this was a golden opportunity to create good relations
and get things on an even keel at last. Conversely,
a refusal would give offence, as the notices say in pubs. Kathe
was beyond argument available. On all counts the wisest
course would be to accede gracefully.
'Well, Mummy, I think the best thing I can do is just to
put Kathe quickly in the picture and then ask her to have a
word with you herself. I'd rather she took the details of your
things, anyway: I'd only get them all wrong. Hang on a tick.'
I told Kathe the situation. She grasped the implications
with her usual swiftness.
Til have to go, Alan, won't I? We can't refuse. Yes, of
course I'll have a word with her. You watch the spaghetti
and grate that cheese, and for goodness' sake don't let anything
burn.'
Sticking to my guns in the kitchen, I caught snatches of
the half-conversation proceeding in the hall.
'How lovely to be talking to you - oh, ja, I am so happy
here - yes, Alan is just fine - oh, that will be wonderful, how
kind of you! So we shall meet at last! No, no trouble at all let
me get a pencil - in the wardrobe, ja - you say in the top
drawer - and a gold bag, oh ja - now I will read it over to
you - to-morrow evening, I am looking forward so much -'
The plates clattered as I put them to warm under the
grill. What with that and the running tap I heard no more.
A minute or tvro later Kathe came back into the kitchen,
glancing over her list.
249
'Kathe, what did you mean, to-morrow evening? The dance
isn't until Wednesday. Surely you'll go down on Wednesday
morning, won't you?'
'My darling, I'm going to save your money! How far is
Faringdon from Swindon?'
'About ten or eleven miles.'
'Yes, silly boy! So you can take me to the train at Swindon
after the sale to-morrow. Much less fare and then your
mother thinks, "Ah, how nice of her to come so quickly!"
Besides, she'll want a little while to look over the clothes
and things, won't she, if she hasn't worn them for a bit?'
'So I shall be two nights without you?'
'Get Deirdre up. She'd love it!'
'She might, but I wouldn't.'
'Well, we'd better make the most of to-night, hadn't we?
But first, after supper, I'm going to get those things together.
Did you say we had some red chianti, darling? Do give me
some now, this minute.'
The sale confirmed my worst fears. Each porcelain item
seemed to go for a more outrageous price than the last,
until even Joe was muttering 'Bloody 'ell!' at each bid and
I could feel the pulse in my temples throbbing with frustration
and annoyance. The Worcester tea-service was bought by
the bearded Frenchman for �2,000 after I had dropped out at
my �1,600 limit. The owls went for �12,500, though with
Joe's support I got the hawk for �1,000. A pair of Red
Anchor beggars fetched �1,200 and the Ranelagh dancers
�1,500. We got our polychrome shepherd and shepherdess
for �1,500, but with the Miles Mason
dessert service we
never had a look-in. After a brisk tussle between the Frenchman
and someone who I thought was probably from Williams's,
it wait for �2,200.
'They won't be able to make much profit at that figure,'
said Joe, 'unless they stash it away in the vaults for a few
years. That's probably what they will do, the sods.'
We got some minor items - willow-pattern, Staffordshire
figures and the like - though even these were hard-won; and
250
I bought another Nelson, just for the hell of it, being unwilling
to see the hero of Trafalgar pass into alien hands. At
the end of the morning Joe, with the air of one about to flee
the stricken field, produced a hip-flask of Scotch, took a swig,
passed it to me without wiping the top and said, 'Well, nil
illegitimi carborundum, old boy. How about a steak - a nice,
bloody one - and a couple of pints of? Could you fancy a
steak, Mrs D?'
'No, you take Alan,' replied Kathe, smiling at him but
speaking firmly and decisively. 'I'm going to stay for the job
lots.'
'Kathe,' I said in some apprehension, 'what have you got in
mind? Is there something you particularly want?'
'Vielleicht.'
'Well, look, for God's sake don't go mad. We can't afford
it, honestly.'
Having said this, I instantly felt ashamed. When had she
ever been extravagant, unless extravagance lay in accepting
what I had myself bought for her? And now - a glass snowstorm,
a Benares bowl, a Present from Weymouth mug?
'Kathe, I'm sorry, darling. Forgive me! Forget I said it.
Have a jolly time. I'll bring you back some sandwiches.'
'If they're ham, don't forget the mustard! Lots of it!'
When we got back, about an hour and a half later, there
was a very different 'feel' about the activities in the marquee.
The foreigners seemed to have gone and the middle-aged
auctioneer had handed over to a breezy young colleague,
who was apparently encouraging bidding by word of mouth.
There were fewer people and a more relaxed atmosphere altogether.
As far as I could judge these were mostly local
residents, many of whom plainly knew each other - tweedclad
ladies (one had a well-behaved spaniel on a lead), several
obvious representatives of the shopkeeper and r-jnor official
class, a little group of students, a military-looking gentleman
with trout flies in his hat, a district nurse in dark-blue uniform,
a stout, respectable body who looked like a cook. The
auctioneer was allowing himself numerous quips, sallies
and pleasantries in the conduct of business.
251
'Any more for this handsome triple-note gong? In full
working order, Cyril, isn't it?' he inquired of the clothcapped,
green-baize-aproned stalwart who was holding successive
articles up to view.
'Yeah, lovely,' replied Cyril; and, picking up the padded
stick, proceeded to play 'Come to the cook-house door', at
which there was laughter and applause.
'Going to Major Brent for five pounds, then - gone!' said
the auctioneer, and proceeded without delay to extol two
stuffed green parrots under a glass dome.
I had now caught sight of Kathe leaning against a tentpole
on the further side of the marquee. She had an open
catalogue in her hand, but was plainly not shaping up to
any active part in the bidding. I wondered what she could
have in mind. Had she already bought anything and if so,
what?
A framed sampler - 'Harriet Snelling, aged 10, her work,
1855' - came up and fetched �18. Then two North Country
rosy bowls - pretty, but both riveted - went for �8, followed
by a set of large-to-small, black wooden elephants. Kathe
showed not a flicker of interest. I decided that she must have
some particular purpose, and became more and more intrigued.
After another ten minutes the young auctioneer reached
the kitchen stuff. A huge old wooden-rollered mangle ('There
it is, ladies, over there. Cyril could carry it up front, of
course, only he strained his Achilles tendon with the stuffed
bear') failed to get any bids at all, but a great iron frying-pan
and six ditto spoons were snapped up by a rather masculinelooking
lady standing next to me. 'Sold to Mrs Rossiter for
�3!' cried the auctioneer.
The lots came and went swiftly, each fetching no more
than a few pounds, if that - sets of jam-jars, earthenware
teapots, a pair of heavy kitchen scales lacking some of the
brass weights, a dog-basket, three or four hair-tidies and
other dressing-table furniture, some mops and brooms and
so on. Mrs Rossiter was plainly in the market for kitchen
ware, and in quick succession bought a set of thick white
plates, two pudding-steamers, a carving-set, bread-knife and
252
bread-board and two not-very-nice chairs. For a deal kitchen
table she went to �50 and got it.
'It's all good, solid stuff, you know,' she remarked to a
woman standing next to her, who seemed to be some sort of
subordinate. 'Not like this rubbish you get in the shops
nowadays.'
'Oh, I quite agree, Mrs Rossiter,' replied the good soul. 'I
do so much agree with you.'
I wondered whether perhaps they could be running a
canteen.
'Now, lot number three hundred,' said the auctioneer.
'Half a league, half a league onward. What have we here?
Five nice saucepans, all with their lids, one or two attractive
odds and ends inside - two small china ornaments, to be
precise; also a lemon-squeezer and a wooden string-box.
Lovely set of saucepans! Who'll give me five pounds?'
'Four pounds,' said Mrs Rossiter, with an air of 'Don't
you try that stuff with me, my man.'
Suddenly Kathe swung into action.
'Five pounds.'
'Six,' said Mrs Rossiter promptly.
'Eight pounds,' said Kathe.
Mrs Rossiter clicked her tongue with annoyance. 'Stupid
woman,' she muttered to her friend. 'Why can't she bid
properly? Nine pounds!'
'Ten,' said Kathe pleasantly, as though correcting her.
It was clear that Mrs Rossiter regarded this as virtually a
personal affront. In fact, she was now obviously suffering
from auctionitis, that dread hysteria against which I had
warned Kathe. She was going to have the damned saucepans
if it killed her. I had no idea what Kathe was up to, but I
feared the worst. I had better get across and stop her before
the worst befell.
'Eleven pounds!' said Mrs Rossiter in a tone of finality. She
might have added, 'And no more of your nonsense, my girl.'
I was edging my way across the marquee when Kathe,
with a little laugh in her voice, said, 'Twenty pounds!'
Several people echoed the laugh. 'Evidently very nice
things, saucepans,' said the auctioneer. 'That's against you,
253
Mrs Rossiter.' He paused. 'Are you all done at twenty
pounds? All done? Sold! To the y
oung lady on my right.'
'Who is that absurd young woman, do you suppose?' said
Mrs Rossiter to her companion. 'She must be out of her
mind! She's not a local girl - I've never seen her in my life.'
'She's foreign,' replied the companion. 'Didn't you notice
her accent? Perhaps she's the wife of one of those foreign
dealers.'
'If she is a wife,' said Mrs Rossiter grimly.
I couldn't resist it. At least I might as well get some fun
out of Kathe's waste of my money. I leaned forward.
'She's my wife, actually,' I said. 'Rather nice, don't you
think?'
I hadn't the heart to wait for a reply. Mrs Rossiter could
not possibly not have apologized, which might have brought
on a serious indisposition. Anyway, I had something more
urgent to see to. As the auctioneer began addressing himself
to two electric irons and a drinks mixer ('All firing on
six cylinders, Cyril?') I shoved my way across to Kathe,
who was still leaning against the tent-pole.
'Kathe, please stop now! How much have you spent?
What else have you bought?'
She smiled up at me, stood on her toes and whispered in
my ear, Til tell you, but it's a secret! Nothing! That's the
only, only thing!'
'Well, thank God for that! But why go to twenty pounds
when you didn't have to, for a few saucepans not worth six?'
Kathe hesitated.
'I - well, I wonder, Alan - I'll - well, of course I'll explain,
but could we leave it until I get back from Bristol, do you
think? You see, I wanted so much to do this by myself and I
may have been silly, but I hope not.'
'Whatever are you talking about, darling?' I felt impatient,
even cross. We had had a bad day and now she had made it
worse by wasting twenty pounds. We didn't need saucepans
at Bull Banks. Then I saw that she was pale and sweating;
clearly what Mr Steinberg would call 'zapped*. At this
moment I found Joe at my elbow.
'Anti-climax, old boy,' he said, taking in the situation at a
254
glance. 'For some reason or other she was determined to 'ave
that bloody lot and now she feels as if she'd run five miles.
I know the feeling - so do you. Come on, let's get her out.'
Before I could reply, however, Kathe found her tongue.
'Never mind what I'm talking about, just for now, Alan. Be a
dear and wait outside for me, will you? Then as soon as I've
paid for those things and had them wrapped -'
'Wrapped? What on earth for?'
'Well, some of them, anyway. Please. I won't be a minute.'
Joe and I went out on the lawn as requested. Five minutes
later Kathe joined us, carrying three of the saucepans unwrapped.
'Take those, Alan, please. I'll be back again in a moment.'
Returning to the marquee, she came back with the other
two saucepans, the lemon-squeezer, the string-box and two
brown-paper parcels.
'Oh, I feel tired out and yet I've done nothing! Have you
got the sandwiches, Alan? I'd love a huge one - two huge
ones. Will you drive me to Swindon now? Good-bye, Mr
Matthewson. It's been so nice to see you! Next time we meet
I hope I'll know a bit more about porcelain.'
As we drove through the summer afternoon my sense of
proportion returned. What on earth was twenty pounds and
a little foolishness, compared with Kathe toute entiere a sa
proie attaches? I pulled in to the near side, stopped the car,
put my arms round her and kissed her.
'Dear Alan! What's that for?'
'He who kisses the Joy as it flies
'Lives in Eternity's sunrise.' I started the car and drove
on.
'How nice for him! Well, dearest, will you do something
for me ?'
'You don't have to ask.'
'Just take these old saucepans and things home with you.
We might as well keep them. But this parcel I'm taking with
me to Bristol. Ach nein!' (holding up a finger as I was about
to speak) Til explain everything when I come back. Is this
Swindon? Have you any idea about the times of the trains?'
I stayed twenty minutes with her in the station refresh255
ment room while she finished the sandwiches and topped
them off with two sugar-buns, a large bar of chocolate and
some railway coffee.
'Oh, that feels much better! And here comes the train.
Well, as Lee Dubose would say, "Y'all take care now!
'He wouldn't - there's only one of me, you see. "Y'all" 's
plural. But I will take care, all the same. And I'll ring you up
to-night. 'Bye, darling!'
2O
THE absence of Kathe brought about in me a kind of inward
dislocation, so unreasonably extreme that I felt bewildered.
The Girl in a Swing Page 29