once that Greta was having a bit of fun with us. If the thought just flashed across my mind for a moment that her kind of fun wasn't very kind, it hardly had time to take root. Greta burst out laughing, a high whimsical laugh that made people turn their heads and look at us.
“You should have seen your faces,” she said, “especially yours, Ellie. I have to tease you just a little. It's a wonderful home, lovely. That man's a genius.”
“Yes,” I said, “he's something out of the ordinary. Wait till you meet him.”
“I have met him,” said Greta. “He was down there the day I went. Yes, he's an extraordinary person. Rather frightening, don't you think?”
“Frightening?” I said, surprised, “in what way?”
“Oh I don't know. It's as though he looks through you and - well, sees right through to the other side. That's always disconcerting.” Then she added, “He looks rather ill.”
“He is ill. Very ill,” I said.
“What a shame. What's the matter with him, tuberculosis, something like that?”
“No,” I said, “I don't think it's tuberculosis. I think it's something to do with - oh with blood.”
“Oh I see. Doctors can do almost anything nowadays, can't they, unless they kill you first while they're trying to cure you. But don't let's think of that. Let's think of the house. When will it be finished?”
“Quite soon, I should think, by the look of it. I'd never imagined a house could go up so quickly,” I said.
“Oh,” said Greta carelessly, “that's money. Double shifts and bonuses - all the rest of it. You don't really know yourself, Ellie, how wonderful it is to have all the money you have.”
But I did know. I had been learning, learning a great deal in the last few weeks. I'd stepped as a result of marriage into an entirely different world and it wasn't the sort of world I'd imagined it to be from the outside. So far in my life, a lucky double had been my highest knowledge of affluence. A whack of money coming in, and spending it as fast as I could on the biggest blow-out I could find. Crude, of course. The crudeness of my class. But Ellie's world was a different world. It wasn't what I should have thought it to be. Just more and more super luxury. It wasn't bigger bathrooms and larger houses and more electric light fittings and bigger meals and faster cars. It wasn't just spending for spending's sake and showing off to everyone in sight. Instead, it was curiously simple. The sort of simplicity that comes when you get beyond the point of splashing for splashing's sake. You don't want three yachts or four cars and you can't eat more than three meals a day and if you buy a really top price picture you don't want more than perhaps one of them in a room. It's as simple as that. Whatever you have is just the best of its kind, not so much because it is the best, but because there is no reason if you like or want any particular thing, why you shouldn't have it. There is no moment when you say “I'm afraid I can't afford that one.” So in a strange way it makes sometimes for such a curious simplicity that I couldn't understand it. We were considering a French impressionist picture, a Cézanne, I think it was. I had to learn that name carefully. I always mixed it up with a tzigane which I gather is a gipsy orchestra. And then as we walked along the streets of Venice, Ellie stopped to look at some pavement artists. On the whole they were doing some terrible pictures for tourists which all looked the same. Portraits with great rows of shining teeth and usually blonde hair falling down their necks.
And then she bought quite a tiny picture, just a picture of a little glimpse through to a canal. The man who had painted it appraised the look of us and she bought it for £6 by English exchange. The funny thing was that I knew quite well that Ellie had just the same longing for that £6 picture that she had for the Cézanne.
It was the same way one day in Paris. She'd said to me
“You should have seen your faces,” she said, “especially yours, Ellie. I have to tease you just a little. It's a wonderful home, lovely. That man's a genius.”
“Yes,” I said, “he's something out of the ordinary. Wait till you meet him.”
“I have met him,” said Greta. “He was down there the day I went. Yes, he's an extraordinary person. Rather frightening, don't you think?”
“Frightening?” I said, surprised, “in what way?”
“Oh I don't know. It's as though he looks through you and - well, sees right through to the other side. That's always disconcerting.” Then she added, “He looks rather ill.”
“He is ill. Very ill,” I said.
“What a shame. What's the matter with him, tuberculosis, something like that?”
“No,” I said, “I don't think it's tuberculosis. I think it's something to do with - oh with blood.”
“Oh I see. Doctors can do almost anything nowadays, can't they, unless they kill you first while they're trying to cure you. But don't let's think of that. Let's think of the house. When will it be finished?”
“Quite soon, I should think, by the look of it. I'd never imagined a house could go up so quickly,” I said.
“Oh,” said Greta carelessly, “that's money. Double shifts and bonuses - all the rest of it. You don't really know yourself, Ellie, how wonderful it is to have all the money you have.”
But I did know. I had been learning, learning a great deal in the last few weeks. I'd stepped as a result of marriage into an entirely different world and it wasn't the sort of world I'd imagined it to be from the outside. So far in my life, a lucky double had been my highest knowledge of affluence. A whack of money coming in, and spending it as fast as I could on the biggest blow-out I could find. Crude, of course. The crudeness of my class. But Ellie's world was a different world. It wasn't what I should have thought it to be. Just more and more super luxury. It wasn't bigger bathrooms and larger houses and more electric light fittings and bigger meals and faster cars. It wasn't just spending for spending's sake and showing off to everyone in sight. Instead, it was curiously simple. The sort of simplicity that comes when you get beyond the point of splashing for splashing's sake. You don't want three yachts or four cars and you can't eat more than three meals a day and if you buy a really top price picture you don't want more than perhaps one of them in a room. It's as simple as that. Whatever you have is just the best of its kind, not so much because it is the best, but because there is no reason if you like or want any particular thing, why you shouldn't have it. There is no moment when you say “I'm afraid I can't afford that one.” So in a strange way it makes sometimes for such a curious simplicity that I couldn't understand it. We were considering a French impressionist picture, a Cézanne, I think it was. I had to learn that name carefully. I always mixed it up with a tzigane which I gather is a gipsy orchestra. And then as we walked along the streets of Venice, Ellie stopped to look at some pavement artists. On the whole they were doing some terrible pictures for tourists which all looked the same. Portraits with great rows of shining teeth and usually blonde hair falling down their necks.
And then she bought quite a tiny picture, just a picture of a little glimpse through to a canal. The man who had painted it appraised the look of us and she bought it for £6 by English exchange. The funny thing was that I knew quite well that Ellie had just the same longing for that £6 picture that she had for the Cézanne.
It was the same way one day in Paris. She'd said to me
Similar Books
