by Angus Wilson
“That was exactly my meaning, Sir. I never care to raise an unnecessary alarm. Parturiunt montes. I’ve never studied Latin, but certain tags stick.”
Dr Leacock cut right through all this.
“There’s absolutely no excuse, Strawson. And I don’t want to hear any. You’re very lucky, you know, to be associated with a scheme of such revolutionary proportions, you will do well not to try to measure it by your own inevitably limited standards. Rules have been laid down, if you follow them, you will at least have an excuse.”
“I think the chap was trying to use his initiative,” Lord Godmanchester put in.
Dr Leacock entirely ignored this.
“I accept your excuse, Strawson, for this time. We shall make a complete check of all boundary wiring, exits and so on. I don’t want to blame you for what may be the fault of the workmen. But I do blame you for taking the escape casually, and I shall blame you still more if it happens again.”
When Strawson had gone, I thought that Leacock would offer some excuse to Godmanchester, instead he turned sharply upon him.
“Running an estate and running a National Reserve are two quite different things, you know. I didn’t want to put you in an embarrassing position in front of subordinates, but I must ask you to keep right out of all questions of staff discipline.”
To my surprise, Lord Godmanchester only said, “You and Carter both let that chap’s way of speaking prejudice you against him. But still that’s your affair.”
Before I returned to London, he took me aside and asked me how I thought the Director was coping with the situation. I replied that I was very much impressed.
“Yes, that’s what I think. He’s nothing like such a windbag as he was, is he? That’s why I’m letting him have his head.”
I was not altogether convinced now that he could have held Dr Leacock’s head even if he had wished to do so. But I didn’t say this.
It had always been agreed between Martha and me that we should tell each other everything, especially anything that concerned our sexual life. As Martha said, ‘It’ll either be so important that we must talk about it; or else it’ll be so unimportant that it’ll be funny. That’s how sex is.’ Like a lot of Martha’s sayings, this was an over-simplification. But it was fundamentally what she had learned from me. With modifications, and with due allowance for the pathology that asked our compassion etc., the Harriet episode fell into the funny category. Yet I had some hesitation in telling Martha. I wasn’t altogether sure that I could not have behaved better, but still that was a poor reason for concealment. More disturbing to me was its effect upon Martha’s attitude to our moving eventually to Stretton. I was so set upon this now that I could not bear to unearth any opposition; yet Martha had a horror of the ‘crawly’, and there seemed no doubt now that there was something ‘crawly’ about the Leacock family life that in the enforced gregariousness of rural isolation might become a problem. I compromised by telling her first of my happiness and excitement about the Reserve; only when we were firmly relaxed after dinner, did I retail the Harriet story.
Martha said, “Oh, poor thing! What can be done for her, Simon?” Then, “Ugh! It’s rather crawly, isn’t it?” And at last, “Well, phooey to her, she doesn’t know what she’s missed.” And she walked over to me and kissed me.
Yet, in a fashion, she seemed a little detached from the whole of my Stretton adventures.
She said, “I’m so happy for you, darling. So truly happy. This could be it, you know, the beginning of what we hoped for when you left the old Treasury!”
I felt sleepy and contented and very ready to take her to bed; but she was restless. She put on the banquet scene from Don Giovanni, but I thought she was only half listening. Then she came and sat on the floor at the foot of my chair and put her head in my lap. I stroked her hair, but I was disturbed—it was a posture that so often preceded confidences of varying discord.
“Isn’t it awful,” she asked, speaking as though she was very far away from me in a beautiful deep sea cavern, “that just when everything seems right for someone, it seems all wrong for someone else?”
I said, “Yes. But stop talking in that far away voice. You’re not a young actress with her first part in the Seagull. What’s wrong for who?”
She laughed, “All right,” she said, “it’s Bobby. After what Jane said I’ve been seeing quite a lot of him. I suppose I’ve always taken him for granted, Simon. He was the great figure of my childhood, my godfather whose pictures appeared in all the papers. At every school I went to I was the envy of all the other girls—my godfather the great TV star, the man who found the abominable snowman, the man who exploded the myth of the Nandi bear, so handsome and sexy, a sort of pin-up boy for the girls of our social class. I was even more nattered than embarrassed when he made a pass at me on a ski-ing holiday. Then I had a period of being against him. I suppose I was upset when I found out that he and Mummy had been lovers. And I used to rather like Jane. But just lately after he found you the job at the Zoo, I’ve thought he was a nice old thing, rather pathetic and absurd. Simon! I didn’t know how pathetic!”
“My dear, I’ve told ycm often enough.”
“Yes, darling, but everybody you describe is ridiculous and a bit sad. Oh, I don’t mean that nastily. You do see very funny things in people and you have got feeling, but you paint the whole world that way. Anyhow I didn’t take it seriously. But now I’ve seen more of him, I feel miserable. Simon, one shouldn’t ever take human beings for granted, however long one’s known them. And that wretched marriage of his—I’ve just found it easier to say ‘that wretched marriage’ and leave it at that. They don’t even hate each other, they’re just that awful thing—’good pals’. I must say I hate Jane a bit for it now. All that competence and fun out of life and so on. I thought she was a martyred brave wife, she’s just a cold bitch, I’m afraid. I can’t do anything for him really. Except that I have made him think that he’s not too old to explore again. Apparently he’s always wanted to search for some sort of armadillo in the Amazon. Anyhow I’ve got him round to the idea. Oh, it’s interfering of me, I’m sure, but if I can’t get you to do what I want. But he’s only agreed, I’m afraid, out of a sort of desperation. And I think if he could get away from that place . . .”
“And leave me all the work to do.”
“Oh! I know, darling, that’s exactly it. And that’s why he won’t go. He says it’s not fair on you. Of course, I can’t say it to him, but surely he’s more in your way than anything . ..”
“You want me to urge him to go. Of course, I will, if you think I should.”
I smiled to myself and Martha cried, “Well, aren’t I right?”
“Yes. I think you are. I was only remembering how you urged me to act against anyone whose muddle might have led to young Filson’s death.”
“Oh, I know. But muddle it is, Simon. I’ve taxed Bobby and all one can get is guilt and self-accusation. I suppose it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Remembering only Don Giovanni’s misery, let the Commendatore moulder.”
Martha flushed scarlet round her neck. “You speak as though Bobby had murdered the young man. If you’re sure, why don’t you face Bobby and tell him? Anyway what have you done about it?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Martha. It hasn’t been easy for me. I’ve taken what practical measures I can. But there’s the happiness of so many people to consider.”
She kissed me. “I know,” she said.
I agreed to urge Bobby to go.
“It’ll mean late homecomings and an overtired husband.”
“I know, Simon. And that makes me feel more awful because ...” She paused and then went on, “or rather it would, if you’d been honest with me, but you haven’t. I don’t understand how you could have kept from me this business about old Godmanchester’s belief in a war.”
“After all it’s there to read in his papers everyday.”
“Oh, that! Who takes notice of them? Do
n’t try to evade, Simon. You know that this is more serious. To evacuate the Zoo!”
“Well, there are two or even three views about that.” I told her of my conversations with Leacock.
She listened carefully, then she said, “Yes, I see. That makes it seem more remote. But it’s no good, Simon, I can’t take any risks over Reggie and Violet. We’ve been given a warning and we must act on it.”
“Do you suppose I haven’t been thinking about that? But one must use reason.”
“Not me. I won’t use anything except caution where the children are concerned. I shall take them to Hester in California. God knows Bobby may be right and the whole world’s going to blow up. Then they’ll simply die quickly or slowly away from us when we could have all died together. But I must take a chance on that. I shall go as soon as I can get a flight, Simon. I’ll settle them in there with Hester and then, of course, I’ll come back. But meanwhile . . .”
Meanwhile we eased away our miseries in bed as best we could. And very well we could do it, if there need be no tomorrow. As Martha lay back from me with a sigh of content, she said,
“I can’t think how anyone else could give that pleasure except you.” Then as she rolled on to her side, she added, “My God! That poor Harriet just wanting it from anyone, anywhere. The people she must go with! The love she must do without!”
“Darling Martha, I could hardly have taken her out of pity. That would be the worst caddishness of all.”
Martha sighed and rubbed her face in her pillow.
“I suppose so,” she mumbled.
“Well would you have wanted me to have had her?”
“Oh no, Simon, no, of course not. I should have hated to hear it. One just wishes, that everybody could be happy, that’s all.”
So Bobby Falcon, with the agreement of the Committee, went off to the Amazon to hire guides and make preliminary charts for his expedition. Godmanchester was a little disturbed, at first, at the disappearance of so famous a man from the scene; but, as Bobby would have resigned had he not received permission, there was little that anyone could do. The Godmanchester Press, in fact, decided to back the inevitable heavily. They provided money for the expedition, arranged for a famous cameraman to accompany Bobby, and altogether went out for exclusive rights on the story. For weeks they carried gossip about Sk Robert and Lady Falcon. Jane was asked whether she would not have liked to have accompanied him and was reported as saying, “Blissful, but you know what the theatre’s like. No Amazon this year, I’m afraid, for me.” She took the opportunity to expatiate on the brilliance of her newest playwright. Bobby was photographed looking every sort of soldier-explorer, introspective, reckless and dashingly lecherous in a presentable sort of way. He declared, “Now war’s off the map, thank God, I need a bit of hardship to use up my energies.” It was unlikely that he said this; and it was extremely inconsistent of Lord Godmanchester’s papers to call it ‘An old soldier’s tip to youth’, since they were prophesying war in most of the other columns—but truth and consistency after all... I was not altogether sorry to see Bobby’s neurotic energies out of the way. It was agreed that though I should, in fact, fill the Director’s role at Regent’s Park, a more senior member must act as titular deputy for Leacock. After much debate, Langley-Beard was chosen; and, irritating though I had often found him, it seemed to me that the Prosector was the man least likely to interfere. Also I was intrigued by the idea of getting to know this saintly man a little better.
In any case the Zoo’s affairs came to me through a fog of personal distress at that time. Either the children were going away quite unnecessarily or else it might well be that I was seeing them for the last time. For Martha I had always found a way to express my deep love; but for the children never, and consequently to see them go—despite all the jealousies and irritations that their presence caused me at times—roused an agony and remorse and longing in me. It was not helped by the manner of their going. Naturally war was not mentioned to them, it was simply a holiday with Aunt Hester. We caught their imaginations with a fantasy of cacti and tumbleweeds, of cowboys and Indian Reserves, of dustbowls and canyons; but Reggie, at any rate, I think, considered the whole affair rather strange and my part in it rather callous. Only just before he passed from me beyond the passengers’ barrier at London Airport, he said,
“I should think if we stay long at Aunt Hester’s, we shan’t even remember Daddy’s face when we get back.”
And Martha, of course, was only going to settle them in. But what might happen in that time? And how would she find the strength to leave them? In any case, I knew that to be without Martha—especially her physical presence—for even a short while, would prove intolerable.
IV
WARS, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN
WORK, THEY say is the best physic of grief. It is not, however, an opiate, merely a counter-irritant that keeps one alive. I got through my work, got through it competently, but it was only with the surface of my mind; my body and my spirit were smothered in a fog of unhappiness that seemed to seep into me from the unusually thick and yellow smog that had settled upon London in those early November days. I could find my way home or, on occasion, to the little Greek restaurant around the corner in Camden Town, through the thickest pea-souper—how blessed not to have Bobby in Victorian cockney hailing ‘the London pertickler’!—without mischance, if other less sensitive persons did not blunder and bump into me; so I could get through my work and my depressed days were it not for the sudden incursion of the muddling., maddening, blundering of people around me. But such incursions into routine are the very essence of an administrator’s day. And many came to irritate and grate upon my tensed up nerves, to send me home each night ready for nothing but to feel and deplore the emptiness of the house.
Only a day after Martha and the children had flown, Godmanchester padded into my office to encourage me in my new authority.
“I know you’re not ambitious,” he said, “but you realize that you’ve got it all your own way here, don’t you? All the rest of them are over sixty.”
“Harry Jackley’s only forty.”
“Yes, but he’s away from the scene too much. No, no, you’re pretty certain to be the future Director. And a very good thing too.”
It was all well-meant Napoleonic stuff, yet I could notbut say,
“I’m much more interested in running the British Reserve at Stretton.”
He seemed a little non-plussed.
“Oh, you’ll do that all right,” he said, “but I want to see you make a success of this in the next few months. You’re rather a favourite of mine, you know. And I may not have a chance to encourage you too much, because if everything goes right I ought to be pretty busy. For the first time in my life I shall accept office if it comes with a certain reluctance. This business of Leacock’s could have been a real interest for me. But still it would have been an old man’s second best. In any case there are more important things than my comfort. I believe I can galvanize even this Cabinet into action enough to pull us out of this mess. No I don’t mind saying that I feel a certain real chirpiness these days. I haven’t liked playing the role of Cassandra, especially as I’ve had to overact my part a bit all the time. But I’m beginning to think that we shall avoid war now. Mind you none of this is in the bag, so you’ll not say a word about it. But I know you won’t. You’re one of these efficient people whose feelings don’t run away with them. That’s why I can afford to let off steam with you.”
I said, “I’ve just sent my wife and my children to America. Your papers convinced us that we ought not to take any risks.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Don’t be sarcastic about my papers. That’s intellectual claptrap. They’re the best value in the market.” He folded his hands across his great paunch. “Well, let’s hope you’ll be able to bring them back again in double quick time.” ‘
He was evidently set on the role of being my benefactor; yet it was all I could do not to kick his huge shapeless rhino’s
bottom as he ambled out of my room. As it was I was too livid with anger that my family should have been pawns in some political game of the old man’s, to think out clearly what that game meant for the future of the National Reserve.
The menace of Beard was less expected. He appeared nervously in my office two days after Falcon’s departure.
“I’m leaving everything to you, you know, Carter. Apart from anything else I’m engaged on a very interesting histological problem at the moment—the optic nerves of the loris. Some of the people at the College of Surgeons believe I’m on the right lines. However I can’t quite stomach being a captain who’s never acquainted himself with his own bridge. These war service maxims stick, I suppose. The only experience I had, of course, of this sort of admin thing was as a young sublieutenant in the last war. I volunteered, you know. Wavy navy, of course.” He seemed overflowing with confidences, then he looked away from me. “I was unhappy at home. However they hauled me out again after Dunkirk. Back to research work. And they were quite right. All the same I enjoyed that time at sea. I liked the neatness and order of the Navy, you know.”
It was a new Beard that I introduced to Mrs Purrett and the girls in the typists’ pool.
“You won’t see much of me, I’m afraid,” he said, “anyhow you’ve got Mr Carter. But if there is anything that you want to talk about, I shall always be available between fifteen hours and sixteen-thirty.”
When he had gone the pretty little typist said, “Good heavens, are we going to be put into uniform? I thought Dr Langley-Beard was so shy. He looks to me to have a nuisance-value.”
Mrs Purrett didn’t agree. “I thought he was charming,” she said, “so unassuming and helpful.”
