by Angus Wilson
They sat in the corner of the lounge in great deep armchairs, so that Lois was forced to perch on the edge in order to hear what he said. She felt all the time as though she was slipping off the seat. It’s absurd that he should look so like a stage doctor, she thought, with his well-cut morning coat, and striped trousers, with that bronzed, handsome face and strong jaw, and crowning all, the iron grey wavy hair of the matinée idol. As the interview progressed she found herself wondering at moments whether he was not, in fact, an actor and no real doctor at all, so exactly right was the form of his speech and yet so tenuous and vague was the information it contained. ‘Impostor deceives Kensington girl’ she thought but that was absurd. She really must listen more carefully to what he was saying and she tried to set her face as she did when Harold talked to her about the workings of the Special Jury System or Daddy about Rugby Union Rules.
‘Of course it’s rather difficult to be specific when one doesn’t come into the case until this late stage’ he said.
Oh dear! thought Lois, he’s offended. Aloud she said.
‘He’s not consulted anyone else, Doctor Filby,’ but judging by its result the apology did more harm than good.
‘I imagine not’ said Dr Filby coldly. ‘The legs are entirely paralysed, of course, but that is not necessarily a permanent condition.’
‘You mean you think he may recover’ said Lois.
‘He might well improve’ said Dr Filby. ‘He’s not young, of course. Poor old chap, he keeps his sense of humour, doesn’t he? We can all do with that in these days.’ Lois laughed obediently. ‘And if he doesn’t get better, will he linger on like this for long?’ she asked.
‘I should think he must have had a little stroke before this. Can you remember anything of the kind?’ said Doctor Filby. ‘Of course these attacks are often so slight that they pass off without much notice.’ Lois thought for a moment. ‘He had a bad giddy spell at the club some six months ago’ she said. ‘Very likely’ said the doctor ‘I understand movement has been difficult at times.’ ‘He shuffles more than he used to’ Lois replied ‘and sometimes his legs seem to run away with him. But then he’s over seventy and up to now he’s been so active and cheerful.’ He isn’t listening to what I’m saying she thought, he doesn’t even seem to be listening to himself, he’s quite abstracted, it’s really hopeless to talk to him. I shall make one more serious effort to get some information. ‘Do you think he’s dying, Doctor Filby?’ she asked. ‘If so, don’t be afraid to tell me.’ ‘He’s in a bad condition’ said the doctor ‘I’ll send a nurse round, a nice, reliable girl, you’ll like her. No meat or eggs, I think. Otherwise let him rest, he’ll sleep a lot.’ ‘I know names and that sort of thing aren’t important’ said Lois ‘but I should like to be able to give my brother some exact statement. He’s a bit fussy, you know’ she added apologetically. Dr Filby laughed. ‘No meat or eggs’ he repeated. ‘The kidneys are affected. There’s definite albumen in the water. I suppose your father was a bit wild when he was younger. You’ll excuse my asking but do you know of any V.D. story?’ ‘I’ve never heard of anything’ said Lois. ‘I’m just a bit puzzled by those marks on his legs’ said the doctor. ‘There’s a possibility of a tertiary syphilis, but don’t worry about it, even if it is so, it can only be of historical interest.’ ‘Are there any medicines I should get, Dr Filby?’ Lois asked. ‘These hotels must be very comfortable’ said the doctor ‘but a bit gloomy at times’ and he shivered. ‘Nurse’ll look after any medicines. In a few days’ time we can see how he is and then if necessary I’ll get him admitted to hospital.’ ‘Do you mean to give him treatment then?’ Lois asked. ‘Hardly that’ said Doctor Filby. ‘But he may live on for a long time yet you know, and he’ll need hospital attention.’ At last he’s given a straight answer, thought Lois. How dare he suggest putting Daddy in a hospital ward like that, among the incurables probably? How dare he? how dare he? ‘Oh my brother and I couldn’t permit that’ she said. ‘My father would eat his heart out with misery in a public ward.’ ‘I’ll write a note for the matron and get them to put a screen round the bed.’ I must stop this, thought Lois, or I shall hit him. How dare he talk to me like this just because we’re not rich? He treats us as though we were working class people. ‘If it’s necessary for my father to be moved’ she said ‘he will, of course, go to my brother’s place, but I shall have to feel very convinced that the move is necessary.’ Once more Doctor Filby reverted to the indirect answer. ‘I’ll look in tomorrow morning’ he said ‘about eleven. We’re going through difficult times’ he added ‘but I think Chamberlain’s doing his best. I’d like to see what some of these critics would do if they were in his shoes.’ Lois felt that she too had a right to be abstracted now, so she merely replied ‘Yes’. ‘Well’ said Doctor Filby ‘Good-bye. Don’t worry. And don’t sit too much in this lounge, it’s like a funeral parlour.’
Mr Gorringe was sleeping peacefully at last, though now and again he would wake at some jar in the movement of the ambulance and give vent to a mumbled obscenity. ‘I hope the old man doesn’t start cursing Miss Wheeler’ said Harold. ‘We’re almost there now.’ ‘I don’t think I should worry’ said Lois ‘they’re probably used to that sort of thing at the Nursing Home.’ ‘Oh! she’s a good old sort’ said Harold ‘I don’t suppose she’ll bat an eyelid, but still she is doing us a kind turn really and then she’s got all the children to consider.’ ‘All the children? I don’t understand, Harold.’ His voice in explanation was worried and apologetic. ‘Look old dear, I haven’t had the time to tell you about this end, but we’ve had a dickens of a time finding anywhere that will take the old man. The nursing homes are simply nests of robbers, they want ten or twelve guineas a week, and even then one doesn’t hear anything too good about them. Anyhow I won’t beat about the bush with you. Business is at such a standstill with all these crises, people just won’t take a risk, I simply feel I can’t afford to lay out a sum like that as things are now. After all it may be for a long time. The old man’ll probably get much better, he may hang on for a couple of years, but he’ll need proper attention. Miss Wheeler’s just the person for him, Daisy thinks no end of her. She’s a trained nurse, of course’ he said proudly. ‘She’ll look after him like a child. But it is rather a favour, because, you see, normally she only takes babies and things – children that aren’t wanted, you know, poor little blighters. Awfully nice kids, I saw some of them the other day. I should say she made them very happy’ he added.
‘How gratifying to her’ said Lois savagely.
‘Of course she wouldn’t do this for everyone’ continued Harold ‘but Daisy’s won her heart as usual. They’ve worked together on some Conservative Committee.’
Thank Heaven Harold never recognizes sarcasm, thought Lois, I won’t lose my temper, I won’t, I won’t for Daddy’s sake. It may be some time before I can move him and I don’t want any unpleasantness. I’ll never forgive them, never. Darling Daddy they shan’t treat you like this and go unpunished. Aloud she merely said ‘We’ll have to see how it works, won’t we, Harold?’
Her brother was buoyant again at once. ‘I’m sure it’s just the thing. Daisy’s up to her eyes at the minute trying to jog the local party into action, but you can rest assured, Lois, she’ll see that everything’s up to standard. By the way’ he went on somewhat timorously, ‘you won’t see her at Miss Wheeler’s. She’s got a very important committee meeting on, and there didn’t seem much point in her coming down anyway. I mean the less there are to get in Miss Wheeler’s way the better’ he ended lamely. It suddenly struck Lois that he thought she would mind Daisy’s absence more than the muddle about the nursing home. How fantastic! ‘That’s all right, Harold’ she said ‘I understand,’ and then she began to laugh wildly, hysterically. Harold put a hand on her arm ‘I say, old girl, steady on’ he said. ‘You’re just about all in, you know, the sooner we get you to bed the better.’
If only she could escape to bed, thought Lois, as she cut a piece of her anc
hovy egg into smaller and smaller squares at supper that night, if only she could escape from this endless monologue of Daisy’s. They really were the two most selfish, thoughtless people she had ever known, if anything Harold was worse than Daisy. He knew what a strain she had been through that day, she had already been at breaking point when they arrived at Miss Wheeler’s, but had steeled herself to meet the ordeal of her father’s reception. Daddy had been so terribly ill after the slight jolting when he was carried upstairs, at one point fluid seemed to be pouring from every part of his body at once. She had to admit that Miss Wheeler and Dr Grimmett had been very kind and, what was more important, efficient. But it had been pitiful to see his poor body when they had washed him, and he had cried with the pain, great, heavy sobs. She had never heard him cry before and she had almost broken down. Despite Miss Wheeler’s kindness, the whole house seemed so unsuitable, with sounds of babies’ yelling and a smell of nappies on the landing. She had sworn on oath that she would rescue him, but meanwhile things were better than she had dared to hope. It was well after nine o’clock before they got back to the house and Daisy had still not returned. She had wanted to go to bed, but Harold had said that Daisy would be so disappointed, had assured her it would only be a question of a few minutes. It was ten o’clock before Daisy came in and they sat down to what she was told was a ‘scratch meal’. Now it was almost eleven and all that time Daisy had been talking and eating continuously – sausage rolls, sardine sandwiches, savoury eggs, rock cakes, anything within reach. Lois had felt too tired to hear most of what her sister-in-law said, so that she had been watching this voracious consumption as though she had been lucky enough to arrive at Mappin Terrace at 4 p.m. And really, it was exactly like some animal, for Daisy opened her mouth very wide, talking all the time that she was eating, and swallowing enormous mouthfuls, yes, and spitting wet globules of food all over the table, added Lois spitefully.
There seemed to be so much of Daisy, enormous bosom, rows of teeth, wisps of hair that knew no control, huge arms and a voluminous black and white foulard dress with angel sleeves, the ends of which dipped into every dish as she reached across the table. She must have a digestion like an ox to eat all this heavy food so quickly. I know I shall never sleep after what I’ve eaten, Lois thought.
‘Rubbish! Harold’ her sister-in-law was saying ‘the trouble with the City of London is that they haven’t got any guts. They’re simply putting their own financial interests before the country’s good. Anything more shortsighted than their so-called realism, I cannot imagine. A 10 per cent dividend may be very nice, but it’s not much help if we’re going to sit by and sink to the position of a second-rate power.’
‘I think you’re inclined to misjudge the Government a bit, you know, old dear’ said her husband. ‘There’s a point beyond which we shall never concede. But modern war’s a nasty business, it’s not like the old days of shining armour. You can’t go to war over every tinpot European country created at Versailles by a lot of men who didn’t know geography. I think we can rest assured Chamberlain’s keeping an eye open and if they go too far with us we shall say no.’
‘And meanwhile we’re letting that man take every key point in Europe. Really, Harold, as if I didn’t have enough of it all the evening. I’m as loyal a Conservative as anyone, but I hope I shall never put party before country.’
‘I suppose you’d rather have the Labour Party.’
‘With peace ballots and unilateral disarmament, no thank you. No, we’re the only party who can save the Empire and that’s exactly why we’ve got to pull our socks up. There’s too much attachment to individuals that’s the trouble. Some of the old guard have done wonderfully well, but they aren’t big enough for the situation and if they can’t adapt themselves they must go, that’s all. Thank God, Mrs Faulkner tells me her brother in the War Office says the service chiefs have started kicking up a row at last, about time too. Have you heard anything of that, Lois?’ she asked.
‘I haven’t heard about any of it’ said Lois. ‘You see I’ve been nursing Daddy.’
Daisy was taken aback for a moment, then she got up from her seat and put her head on Lois’ shoulder.
‘Poor old Lois’ she said ‘too bad, my dear. Never mind we’ll be taking the burden on now.’
Lois moved away from her ‘I have been proud to do it.’ Daisy decided to ignore this remark. ‘Motion before the house: bed’ she said. ‘Carried unanimously.’
When they visited Mr Gorringe the next morning he showed a remarkable improvement, he was sitting up in bed in a little camel hair jacket, his white hair neatly brushed, even his eyes quite bright. Daisy, too, although she had put off her morning engagements, was bright and cheerful. Whilst Miss Wheeler seemed to Lois to be odiously eupeptic. Everyone seems awfully pleased, thought Lois, except me. Miss Wheeler took her aside to tell her that the change for the better in her father’s condition was miraculous. ‘I really thought last night that he was going to pop off the hooks’ she said ‘but he’s wonderfully rested, dear old gentleman. Dr Grimmett says we’ll have him out and about in a wheel chair in next to no time if he goes on like this.’ Lois could not help wishing that she too could feel ‘wonderfully rested’ as she thought bitterly of the battles she had fought all night in defence of her father, the tears she had wept in anger at the day’s events.
‘Miss Wheeler and I are famous friends’ said Mr Gorringe ‘We’ve made a bargain – she cuts my beard and I give her the winner of the 2.30.’
Miss Wheeler laughed appreciatively and winked across at Daisy. It was just as Harold had promised, she treated Daddy like a child, but somehow Lois had to admit that he did not seem to mind.
‘I hear you’ve made great friends with a little kiddy here’ said Daisy.
‘It’s wonderful’ explained Miss Wheeler ‘the baby took to him at once. She calls him Foonoo.’ A moment later she came back with the baby in her arms. ‘Foonoo’ she said, pointing at Mr Gorringe ‘Foonoo’ and ‘Foonoo’ said the baby. Mr Gorringe laughed delightedly.
‘Well, Father’ said Daisy, substituting the Schools Programme for the Children’s Hour. ‘What do you think of the mess the country’s in?’
‘We’ve got to tell Hitler and Musso where they get off’ said Mr Gorringe. ‘Good for you, Father’ said Daisy ‘that’s what I told the local party yesterday’ and ‘Good for you’ said Mr Gorringe.
A little later Lois managed to get close to her father, while Miss Wheeler and Daisy were busy talking. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Daddy darling’ she said. ‘You don’t have to stay if you don’t like it. I’ll get you away.’ Mr Gorringe looked puzzled. ‘Don’t you worry your head, girlie,’ he said ‘the old woman’s a very decent sort. You ought to be cutting back to town, you don’t want to upset them at the office.’ Lois bent down and kissed her father. ‘As if the office counted beside you, darling’ she said. But Mr Gorringe only answered rather impatiently ‘I’ll be all right, girlie.’ Then he looked up at the baby in Miss Wheeler’s arms. ‘That kid’s a second Dempsey’ he said ‘look at those wicked uppercuts with the right.’ Suddenly Lois’ voice sounded in the room shrill and shaking ‘I shall go now’ she said ‘I’ll get the next train. Yes, really I must. Don’t bother I can find my way to the station. I shall be at Marjorie Boothby’s for the next few days, you can find it in the phone book if you want me. Good-bye, darling’ and she kissed her father’s brow ‘I’ll come and see you again soon.’
Lois was doing her hair and Marjorie was in the bath when the telephone rang. They were dining in Soho with the Travises, but they had promised to look in at Mavis Wayne’s party before dinner. ‘See who it is, darling’ called Marjorie. When Lois lifted the receiver she recognized Daisy’s voice. ‘It’s me speaking, Daisy’ she said. ‘Oh, Lois dear, I rang to tell you Father’s not so well. He’s had a relapse. It’s definite uremia, Doctor Grimmett says. He’s not conscious, in a coma, you know. Harold and I thought we should tell you; the doctor says he may go at a
ny time. He’s not suffering any pain though, Lois, I know you’ll be glad to hear that. Shall we expect you down?’
‘No,’ said Lois. ‘It’s really only of historical interest’ and she realized suddenly that she was repeating Dr Filby’s words.
‘What did you say, dear? I couldn’t hear’ Daisy sounded puzzled.
‘I said there doesn’t seem to be much point in my coming down if he’s in a coma’ said Lois. ‘You’ll let me know if he asks for me, of course.’
‘Of course’ repeated Daisy and she still sounded puzzled.
‘Well, good-bye’ said Lois and she put down the receiver. ‘Are you nearly ready, Marjorie?’ she called. ‘Will there be hundreds of interesting, new people? I’m rather in the mood to meet hundreds of interesting, new people.’
THE WRONG SET
JUST before the club closed, Mrs Lippiatt asked very specially for a medley of old numbers. Mr Pontresoli himself came over and told Terry. ‘It’s for your bundle of charms’ he said ‘so don’t blame me.’ Vi wanted to refuse when Terry asked her – she had a filthy headache and anyway she was sick of being kept late. ‘Tell the old cow to go and …’ she was saying, when Terry put a finger on her lips. ‘Do it for me, dear’ he said. ‘Remember without her I don’t eat.’ Poor Kid! thought Vi, having to do it with an old trout like that, old enough to be his grandmother – still she stank of money, he was on to a good thing if he could keep it. So she put on a special sweet smile and waved at Mrs Lippiatt. ‘Here’s wishing you all you wish yourself, dear’ she called. Then she smiled at Mr Pontresoli, just to show him how hard she worked for his lousy club – might as well kill two birds with one stone. ‘Let it go, Terry’ she called and the two pianos jazzed out the old duet routine – Souvenirs, Paper Doll, Some of these Days, Blue Again, everything nice and corney. It was while they were playing ‘The Sheik of Araby’ that she noticed Mrs Lippiatt’s face – all lit up with memories. Christ! she must be old if she goes back to that, thought Vi, and then she said to herself ‘Poor old bitch, she must have been pretty once, but there you are, that’s life, makes you hard.’ At least she’d got a nice bit of stuff in Terry, best-looking boy in the place; not that she didn’t prefer something a bit nearer her own age herself, and she gazed proudly over at Trevor, with his wavy grey hair and soldier’s moustache, talking to Mr Pontresoli. Funny how class told. Old Pontresoli could have bought Trevor up any day, but there he was, respectful as anything, listening to what Trevor had to say. She could hear Trevor’s voice above the music ‘My dear old Ponto, you’ll never change that sort of thing in this country till you clear out the Yids.’ If Mr Pontresoli knew what Trevor really thought of him! ‘Filthy wop’ he’d said, but he’d agreed to be nice, because of Vi’s piano act and until he got a job they needed all the money she could earn.