great fun. And it saves cooking.’
‘Spaghetti,’ murmured Nick, and dodged a glancing blow.
‘Boxing Day is even worse,’ James continued; he had by now quite lost his original shyness. ‘On Boxing Day I am obliged to go for a healthy walk. A very healthy walk.’
Alix groaned. ‘On Boxing Day we go to Nick’s parents. Don’t remind me.’
Nick laughed. ‘Darling, they adore you.’
How interesting, I noted. They adore her. If I were in her place, I should adore
them
.
‘I usually go to the Benedicts’,’ I said. ‘Olivia, you know. In the Library. Her parents. But it usually ends up in a healthy walk, just the same.’
‘Sounds delirious,’ Alix broke in. ‘What exactly is the matter with that girl?’
I shouldn’t have minded the question, although few people ask it. They take Olivia’s disability for granted, as she does. She was injured in a car accident when she was about sixteen. She spent a year in hospital, and a further year at home afterwards. She made a good recovery, but she has a certain amount of difficulty walking, although as she is always sitting down this is rarely noticed. What had caught Alix’s eye was her neck brace, that cruel pink collar on which her beautiful head so uncomfortably rests. In my mind’s eye I remembered her on that day when Nick had brought Alix to the Library and had invited me to dinner. Olivia had blushed at Alix’s glance, and then had whitened when forced to witness the performance with the hair. Shehad picked up a pair of scissors and had begun to trim a photograph; she had had to bring it up rather high into her field of vision and Alix had noted this too.
I also saw Olivia’s perfect face, a colourless olive face with eyes so black that the iris and the pupil seemed to be one. I saw the long waving black hair parted in the middle and falling to her shoulders, over the neck brace. It is this face, and her impeccable good sense and balance, that makes me literally forget her movements when she has to get up from her chair. She is so good at her job, such a natural scholar, that it does not matter that she cannot walk round the tables or carry piles of photographs. I do that for her. It works out quite easily, and what I have in physical strength, she has in moral strength. We are dear friends.
I also see her on those Sundays, after lunch and the brazil nuts, when her untidy mother and her silent father, both rather ugly people, seat her in her chair in the drawing room and gaze at her with unsentimental love. They seem more impressed with her beauty than with her disability, and as they have always taken this attitude, which is perfectly genuine, she is singularly uninhibited about her appearance. I don’t know what she feels about it, for she never mentions it, and I have long since ceased to notice it. I put down her blush to her love for Nick, rather than to anything Alix had said or done.
‘Spinal damage. She manages very well,’ said James, for I could not trust myself to answer. Suddenly the surroundings of that hotel, with the geometrical carpet and the gold trees, seemed tawdry, the refuge of people who had no genuine reason to be out. I had already got Olivia’s Christmas present, a first edition of
The Ordeal of Richard Feveral
, her favourite novel, and I also saw the smile that would break up her little face when I gave it to her.
Alix began to stir, rather restlessly. ‘Well, I think we can do better than that,’ she said. James and I looked at each other, and after a moment smiled. ‘I’ll have a word with Maria,’ said Alix. ‘And let you know. Put yourselves in my hands.’ She looked at us speculatively. ‘You could do worse,’ she added.
It was close to midnight when we got outside. It was a beautiful night, cold and misty, with a yellow moon. I was tired but excited; I had had such an extraordinary evening that I did not want it to end. I wanted, in fact, to walk a little, but discussions were already under way
‘Spaghetti,’ murmured Nick, and dodged a glancing blow.
‘Boxing Day is even worse,’ James continued; he had by now quite lost his original shyness. ‘On Boxing Day I am obliged to go for a healthy walk. A very healthy walk.’
Alix groaned. ‘On Boxing Day we go to Nick’s parents. Don’t remind me.’
Nick laughed. ‘Darling, they adore you.’
How interesting, I noted. They adore her. If I were in her place, I should adore
them
.
‘I usually go to the Benedicts’,’ I said. ‘Olivia, you know. In the Library. Her parents. But it usually ends up in a healthy walk, just the same.’
‘Sounds delirious,’ Alix broke in. ‘What exactly is the matter with that girl?’
I shouldn’t have minded the question, although few people ask it. They take Olivia’s disability for granted, as she does. She was injured in a car accident when she was about sixteen. She spent a year in hospital, and a further year at home afterwards. She made a good recovery, but she has a certain amount of difficulty walking, although as she is always sitting down this is rarely noticed. What had caught Alix’s eye was her neck brace, that cruel pink collar on which her beautiful head so uncomfortably rests. In my mind’s eye I remembered her on that day when Nick had brought Alix to the Library and had invited me to dinner. Olivia had blushed at Alix’s glance, and then had whitened when forced to witness the performance with the hair. Shehad picked up a pair of scissors and had begun to trim a photograph; she had had to bring it up rather high into her field of vision and Alix had noted this too.
I also saw Olivia’s perfect face, a colourless olive face with eyes so black that the iris and the pupil seemed to be one. I saw the long waving black hair parted in the middle and falling to her shoulders, over the neck brace. It is this face, and her impeccable good sense and balance, that makes me literally forget her movements when she has to get up from her chair. She is so good at her job, such a natural scholar, that it does not matter that she cannot walk round the tables or carry piles of photographs. I do that for her. It works out quite easily, and what I have in physical strength, she has in moral strength. We are dear friends.
I also see her on those Sundays, after lunch and the brazil nuts, when her untidy mother and her silent father, both rather ugly people, seat her in her chair in the drawing room and gaze at her with unsentimental love. They seem more impressed with her beauty than with her disability, and as they have always taken this attitude, which is perfectly genuine, she is singularly uninhibited about her appearance. I don’t know what she feels about it, for she never mentions it, and I have long since ceased to notice it. I put down her blush to her love for Nick, rather than to anything Alix had said or done.
‘Spinal damage. She manages very well,’ said James, for I could not trust myself to answer. Suddenly the surroundings of that hotel, with the geometrical carpet and the gold trees, seemed tawdry, the refuge of people who had no genuine reason to be out. I had already got Olivia’s Christmas present, a first edition of
The Ordeal of Richard Feveral
, her favourite novel, and I also saw the smile that would break up her little face when I gave it to her.
Alix began to stir, rather restlessly. ‘Well, I think we can do better than that,’ she said. James and I looked at each other, and after a moment smiled. ‘I’ll have a word with Maria,’ said Alix. ‘And let you know. Put yourselves in my hands.’ She looked at us speculatively. ‘You could do worse,’ she added.
It was close to midnight when we got outside. It was a beautiful night, cold and misty, with a yellow moon. I was tired but excited; I had had such an extraordinary evening that I did not want it to end. I wanted, in fact, to walk a little, but discussions were already under way
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