Nothing

by Henry Green

  “Do you notice what men are wearing?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then did I get the suit I have on now from off the hook or was it made for me?”

  “You ask me that when you wouldn’t know if I was in one of my beloved mother’s Ascot dresses this minute!”

  “What tailor does Philip patronize?”

  “His awful uncle’s.”

  “Well of course I haven’t the advantage of knowing your brother-in-law well enough to have been acquainted with his cutter.”

  “It’s Highcliffe I believe, in that little passage off the Arcade.”

  “Never heard of the man.” There was a pause. Then Mr. Pomfret went on “What made Philip choose Ned Weatherby’s man?”

  “Family reasons. Philip feels all men who are closely related should go to the same place for everything.”

  “That’s what must lead one to think he’s in livery then.”

  “But John the boy never wears striped waistcoats.”

  “We shall have to change all of it Jane. Who’d d’you say your wine merchant was?”

  “Ned’s.”

  “Curious. Remind me to ask you the address some time. So has Philip gone traditional with the tradespeople? Can’t say I remember anything of the sort in my family.”

  “Then you’ve forgotten your Aunt Eloise.”

  “What about her?”

  “Wasn’t it she who insisted on everyone getting everything on the route served by such and such a bus?”

  “Extraordinary memory you have Jane. Whenever did I tell you that?”

  “On one of those despairingly long walks you took me, dear.”

  They both laughed. There was a short pause.

  “Well I think all this business is rather marvellous,” he began again. “It’s given me a new lease of life Jane. Takes me back to the days we were walking out! I’m sure I couldn’t think of anyone more perfect for Mary than your Philip.”

  “What a sweet sentimental person you can be,” she replied. “I believe most men are.”

  “No seriously,” he said “it’s all I could’ve wished.”

  “I never imagined, who would, I mean think of you and me sitting here like this after all that’s happened, and in a discussion how we’re to become related by the back door so to speak!”

  “Not at all,” he objected. “The main entrance.”

  “D’you really think so? Don’t you find your children, your own girl so remote?”

  “Why should I Jane?”

  “But Mary’s a girl!”

  “And what difference does sex bring to the relationship?”

  “You see I’m forever making allowances for Philip because he’s a man,” she explained. “And the more so by reason of my not having a husband any longer of course. It’s the same with you John. If you were married now you’d be so greatly critical, no not that, shall I say choosy about Mary.”

  “Would I?”

  “Well I mean about her clothes and everything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’d get some advice I suppose. I’m sure I don’t know. What d’you expect me to say?”

  “I couldn’t tell you Jane,” he said smiling, and seemed very comfortable in the chair with his sherry.

  “I hope Isabella’s not to be late again like she was last time, or is each time if I’m not to tell a lie,” Mrs. Weatherby said. “Supposing I shouted to her in the kitchen?”

  “I’m quite all right. Never been more comfortable in my life.”

  “Well you did arrive a weeny bit early didn’t you? The thing is, as I’ve already explained, ever since she told darling Pen all about the secret engagement I’ve been terrified to say much to Isabella in case unbeknownst I’m telling the woman the opposite. Never mind, I expect we can wait a bit. Then are you quite easy in your heart of hearts about Mary and Philip?”

  “My dear,” he said “I can’t remember when I’ve been more pleased.”

  “It just crossed my mind, only a moment ago to tell the truth, John I have almost wondered and you are the one person in the world to whom I’d bring myself to mention this, but don’t you feel they both might be rather young?”

  “Young? My dear girl what age were you when you married?”

  “Eighteen months younger than your lovely Mary I know, oh I know!” she cried. “Still wouldn’t you agree we were different then?”

  “Different? In what way?” An edge had come on to his voice.

  “It’s so difficult to look back to those golden wonderful days,” she moaned, “to feel back to how we felt then! I don’t know but I sometimes think I was simply insane marrying when I did so I missed all my fun.”

  “Nonsense my dear,” Mr. Pomfret said firmly. “You never lived until you met me and that was years later.”

  “Oh why didn’t I wait?” she murmured gently with a brilliant flattering smile full on him. “That was when I made the greatest mistake. And how about you? What d’you think?”

  “Me? Oh I’ve been an absolute fool all me life.”

  “There’s not many would say that about you John. But, if we were complete idiots is there any reason why we should let the children fall into the selfsame trap?”

  “Yes Jane and who’s to stop ’em?”

  “Ah,” she said “ah! Yet these runaway affairs?” she hazarded.

  “That’s what I like about our two. They haven’t eloped.”

  “Not yet, sweet Providence forbid!”

  “My dear,” he remonstrated. “I say nothing against Mary when I tell you she is far too level headed. And Philip would be frightened of what his uncle’s tradesmen might find to say.”

  She narrowed her great eyes.

  “John,” she warned him “that’s not funny!”

  “Have I said something?” he exclaimed with what seemed to be genuine innocence. “Look here I do apologize. Now that the children have got engaged I suppose I’m wallowing in intimacy, there you are, thinking out aloud no end of ill-considered things. There’s been so little time to adjust oneself has there?”

  “No no,” she agreed “I was only absurd for a minute and ridiculously touchy. Forgive me dear John! Oh yes it has all been hasty quick hasn’t it?”

  “Then you really think they’re too young though you admit there’s very little we can do and that we married younger?”

  “But John we had money. It didn’t have to be love in a cottage for us.”

  “Quite out of date nowadays,” he laughed. “Most expensive things in the world, cottages! It’s the old garret for the nonce all right.”

  “And can you see Philip in one?”

  “No Jane to tell the honest truth I can’t, yet that’s Mary’s affair I suppose? And then I imagine you and I’ll be able to help a little.”

  Mrs. Weatherby covered her face with her fat white fingers in rings.

  “Oh there you go,” she moaned “and I’ve been dreading it all evening! I shall have to see Mr. Thicknesse which I do terribly tremble at always!! I’m such an absolute fool over money matters John!”

  “Thicknesse the family Oliver Twist?”

  “Yes the lawyer. You remember him,” she said, still from behind her hands but in a stronger tone.

  “Never had dealings with the man myself.”

  “But you did. When we were wickedly threatened with cross divorces.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten even that?”

  “Oh old Thicknesse,” he cried cheerfully. “Yes I’ve got him now right enough. Lord I’m sorry for anyone who has to call on that fellow! And you say he’s still alive when a fine chap thirty years younger like poor old Arthur Morris lies dying in bed?”

  “No don’t,” she wailed. “No one, simply no one is to mention Arthur again in my presence! I told Penelope. I forbad her.”

  “Yes I expect you’ll have to call on Master Thicknesse. Unless you’d rather I went?”

  “Oh well wouldn’t that look rather queer?�
� she cried, lowered the hands from her face and looked at Mr. Pomfret with a tiny smile at the corners of those magnificent eyes. “Besides I’m afraid it may turn out to be quite like those Egyptian tombs they’re always finding and are so proud of, quite empty, robbed.”

  “You mean the sly old devil’s got away with some?”

  “Mr. Thicknesse?” she gasped and actually glanced over a shoulder. “Hush my dear, do think what you’re saying!”

  John roared with laughter, put his drink down, even leaned right back to let himself go. She caught the infection, or seemed to, and soon in her turn was dabbing at her eyes.

  “Darling,” he brought out at last, a few tears about his cheekbones “you’re wonderful! I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

  Mrs. Weatherby stopped laughing at once.

  “You’ve managed without someone an unconscionably long time John.”

  “Dear where do you get these long words suddenly?”

  “My old governess,” she replied in a tart voice. “What were we talking about?”

  “Lord knows,” he said. “That’s the effect you have on me. I forget time and place.”

  “Then I don’t,” she gaily laughed. “And I think I know what it may be. Isabella must have misunderstood again and is waiting for us in the dining-room. Let’s go along, shall we, if only to try, anyway?”

  •

  John Pomfret invited Mr. Abbot to have a bite to eat with him at the Club.

  “I asked you to drop over because I’m worried in my mind to do with this business about my Mary,” he told Richard.

  “Young love not running smooth eh?”

  “I shouldn’t say that for the simple reason I’ve no means of finding out. They look happy enough bless ’em but they don’t let on much. Tell you the truth I wanted to enlist your help with Jane.”

  “You’ve known her longest, John.”

  “I’d like to put the whole thing before you. Basically I think a man’s no right to stand between his child and her happiness.” He laughed. “Lord that sounds a pompous pronouncement but you follow what I mean? And it’s damned hard to get down to arrangements with someone like Jane you’ve known all your life.”

  “Expect it may be,” Mr. Abbot agreed.

  “Good, I thought you’d catch on. The fact is I’ve been uncommonly careful not to rush Jane in any shape or form and then this week the summons I’d been awaiting came and she asked me round to dinner. Well we did have a bit of a chat while that Italian woman of hers kept us hanging on for the meal but I can’t say we got anywhere. After we’d sat down to eat and later back in her room again it was hardly mentioned; to tell the truth we got laughing over old days and there you are.”

  “Wonderful food Jane gives one. Can’t imagine how she does it these days.”

  Mr. Pomfret turned on Richard Abbot a long considering look. “Food’s not been too bad in the Club lately,” he said at last. “Richard are you with me about all this?”

  “Completely ignorant of the whole issue,” Mr. Abbot answered.

  “Well I can’t promise there is an issue,” John pointed out. “Only perhaps that Jane doesn’t seem wildly keen on the engagement. It’s not so much what she puts into words as everything she doesn’t mention and for somebody who’s never been exactly silent all her life that may or may not be significant. How do you weigh things up?”

  “She might be a trifle upset about Penelope?”.

  “I know but don’t you think Pen’s often a blind, Richard? Doesn’t Jane use the child as a shield?”

  “She has no need that I can see.”

  “Of course not,” Mr. Pomfret concurred. “Never met anyone better able to look after herself than Jane.”

  “Wonderful manager. Marvellous party she gave!”

  “Superb! A trifle unfortunate though the way the children brought their marriage in.”

  “As a matter of fact I a bit felt that,” Mr. Abbot agreed. “When all’s said and done it was Jane’s show. Speaking as Philip did he stole the thunder considerably or so I fancied.”

  “Wasn’t it his twenty firster?”

  “May have been,” Richard Abbot admitted. “But a mother has the right to celebrate having raised her own son to man’s estate surely?”

  “Admitted,” John allowed him. “All the same we celebrated by ourselves didn’t we when you and I ceased to be minors?”

  “No doubt Philip did so.”

  “I fancy they’re a bit short, wouldn’t run to two entertainments. Who could these days?”

  “Don’t know at all. None of my business John.”

  There was another pause while Mr. Pomfret studied Richard Abbot.

  “D’you like Mary?” he asked at last. “Forget I’m her father. Well of course you can’t. But tell me what I ought to do. They seem very much in love. I don’t say I’ve been particularly keen on Philip in the past but Mary’s chosen and that’s enough for me. Besides, now I’ve seen a bit more of him as one does on these occasions I find there’s a lot in the boy. I’m not saying a word against Jane mind but he’s missed having a man about the house. Have you run across him in one of his hats?”

  “Bloody terrible. Don’t speak of ’em.”

  “Aren’t they?” Mr. Pomfret agreed in a relieved sort of voice. “Later on I may be able to manage something about it. But are you on my side about those two or aren’t you?”

  “Not for me to take sides. You know Jane better than me John, Comparative newcomer is all I am.”

  “You’ll excuse my saying this but you aren’t. Why I hardly ever see old Jane now, and then only at the cost of a row each time with Liz. No, all I want is the children’s happiness and how to get it, that’s what I’m after.”

  “Won’t they marry in spite of anything either of you may say?” Mr. Abbot asked.

  “Of course Richard. Simply I’d like to avoid the sort of unpleasantness which could follow, shortage of cash, no help from Jane because she’s been rushed or feels hurt, the hundred and one things to dog them once they’re back from the honeymoon.”

  “Don’t ask me how Jane’s fixed for money.”

  “Which is not the point with great respect old man. There’s every kind of support Jane can bring if she wishes. But look here if she didn’t agree,” Mr. Pomfret pointed out “matters might go sour, all sorts of awful things, trouble and so on. Oh we shall be out of it right enough, you and I. I’m thinking of Mary.”

  “Grandchildren do the trick d’you consider?”

  “Well naturally. Still supposing there aren’t any at first. And how can anyone carry it off in a single room, if they have to live in the beginning with practically no more than a single room, and on what they earn?”

  “As I know Jane she’d never resist a baby,” Mr. Abbot said.

  “But good God Richard have they to breed like rabbits to get recognition?”

  “They’ve always got you haven’t they?”

  “What’s the use? I’ve no money left! Who has?”

  “Well thank God I’m not in your shoes.”

  “It’s not as bad as that is it Richard? D’you mean you think Jane actually opposes the idea?”

  “Me? How should I know? She doesn’t discuss anything with me, good God no. Damned if I can say what I’d advise.”

  “You don’t sound very cheerful old man I must say.”

  “It’s like this John,” Mr. Abbot explained “and by the way I wouldn’t care for anyone to know what I’m going to tell you now. The fact is Jane and I may see a bit of one another from time to time but she doesn’t confide in me, never has. Damned self-reliant woman in my opinion Jane and always was.”

  “I don’t know I ever found her any different,” Mr. Pomfret agreed. “So you can’t say what she’s driving at?”

  Richard Abbot considered his host in a long expressionless stare.

  “D’you suppose Jane knows herself?” he asked in the end. “Probably got a violent sensationalism over this marriage business. E
xcept she’ll hide it under sweetness and light if you follow me. Then when she’s ready,” and Mr. Abbot jerked his hands up from his knees “out it will all come. Just like that.”

  “Oh my God you appal me,” John Pomfret cried with signs of agitation.

  “Could go either way with her, for or against,” said Richard in what seemed to be great satisfaction. Upon which Mr. Pomfret took his guest to the bar, they fell in with friends and dined in a party. No more was said of the engagement that night.

  •

  Mr. Weatherby and Miss Pomfret were in the saloon bar of the public house they used in Knightsbridge. Their becoming engaged to be married had not made the smallest difference in either’s manner or appearance. As usual they sat over two light ales and, when they talked, spoke for a time almost in asides to one another.

  “You know my blue hat darling?” she asked.

  “Which one?” he vaguely said.

  Mary gave a short technical description.

  “Well I might,” he admitted but did not seem as if he could.

  “Your mother doesn’t like it.”

  “I don’t know that I care for many of hers.”

  “D’you think I dress horribly badly darling?”

  “Why Mary you must be sure I don’t.”

  “Because you see I’m wearing everything I’ve got for you now darling or almost, and I’d like to get some idea of what you feel suits me if we are to buy all these clothes.”

  “What clothes?”

  “Frocks. Dresses. Trousseau. Getting married you know.”

  “Sorry darling. I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Nor me! The trouble is Philip these older women have and do, they’ve got us at a disadvantage.”

  “Your father doesn’t like my headgear either.”

  “Daddy? He’s never said a word.”

  “He has to me.”

  “How did he object?”

  “Artistic was the word he used.”

  “Oh dear I’m really sorry darling because I always think Daddy’s the best dressed man I meet, of his own generation of course.”

  “Well I rather fancy the way Mamma gets herself up sometimes.”

  Miss Pomfret laughed.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “This conversation’s becoming almost barbed isn’t it?”