was their patronal festival, of course, and the priest there was a friend of Father G.'s. Then there was the day after, December 28th, Holy Innocents — he'd try to get over to Hammersmith for that. People didn't seem to realize what a lot there was going on after Christmas, quite apart from the day itself.
Eleven
T HE FIRST DAY they were back in the office was the second of January. None of them had really needed New Year's Day to recover from the celebrations of the night before because none of them had been to a party, but there had always been grumblings when in the past they had been obliged to work on the day. Now, of course, the extended holiday had seemed a little too long and they were all glad to be back to work.
'Or what passes for work,' as Norman remarked, tilting back in his chair and drumming his fingers on his empty table.
'It's always a bit slack at this time,' Letty said. 'One tries to get things done before Christmas.'
'To clear one's desk,' said Marcia importantly, using a phrase from long ago that had little or no reality in their present situation.
'And when you get back there's nothing on it,' said Norman peevishly. He was bored now that the first interest of hearing about other people's Christmases had evaporated.
Well, this has come in,' said Edwin, holding up a cyclostyled notice. He passed it to Norman who read it out.
'A Memorial Service for a man who retired before we came,' he said. 'What's that got to do with us?'
'I didn't know he'd died,' said Letty. 'Wasn't he once chairman?'
It was in The Times, Edwin pointed out. 'One feels that perhaps this department ought to be represented.'
'They couldn't expect that if nobody knew him,' said Marcia.
'I suppose they'd send round a notice in case anybody wanted to go,' said Letty in her usual tolerant manner. 'After all, there might be some who'd worked with him.'
'But it's today,' said Norman indignantly. 'How could we go today, at such short notice? What's going to happen to the work?'
Nobody answered him.
'Twelve noon,' Norman read out scornfully. 'I like that! What do they think we are?'
'I think I shall go,' said Edwin, looking at his watch. 'I see it's at the church used by the university — rather a suitable setting for a Memorial Service for an agnostic.'
'I suppose you know the church, you've been there before?' Letty asked.
'Oh, yes, I know it all right,' said Edwin casually. 'Pretty undenominational, you might say. They have to cater for all sorts there, but I suppose there'll be somebody who knows what to do.'
'Let's hope so! Unless you feel like taking the service yourself,' said Norman sarcastically. He was irritated at Edwin taking what seemed to him like an unfair advantage, though where the advantage lay he could hardly have said.
The church was still decorated for Christmas, with stiff-looking poinsettias and sprigs of holly on the window ledges, but an expensive florist's arrangement of white chrysanthemums had been placed at the side of the altar, as if to emphasize the dual purpose of the church's present function.
Memorial services were not much in Edwin's line, particularly not when they commemorated persons with whom he had little or nothing in common. It wasn't as if they were like funerals, of which he had experienced his fair share — father, mother, wife and various in-law relatives. And it wasn't as if this was a proper Requiem Mass, more like a social gathering, with the smartly dressed women in hats and fur coats and the dark-suited men in good, heavy overcoats. They seemed very far removed from the little huddle of mourners Edwin associated with funerals he had attended. Of course the time of mourning had passed and this service was being held to celebrate the deceased's life and achievements, so there was a difference. Another noticeable difference was the warmth of the church on this January day. Reassuring wafts of hot air circulated round Edwin's feet and he noticed the woman in front
Eleven
T HE FIRST DAY they were back in the office was the second of January. None of them had really needed New Year's Day to recover from the celebrations of the night before because none of them had been to a party, but there had always been grumblings when in the past they had been obliged to work on the day. Now, of course, the extended holiday had seemed a little too long and they were all glad to be back to work.
'Or what passes for work,' as Norman remarked, tilting back in his chair and drumming his fingers on his empty table.
'It's always a bit slack at this time,' Letty said. 'One tries to get things done before Christmas.'
'To clear one's desk,' said Marcia importantly, using a phrase from long ago that had little or no reality in their present situation.
'And when you get back there's nothing on it,' said Norman peevishly. He was bored now that the first interest of hearing about other people's Christmases had evaporated.
Well, this has come in,' said Edwin, holding up a cyclostyled notice. He passed it to Norman who read it out.
'A Memorial Service for a man who retired before we came,' he said. 'What's that got to do with us?'
'I didn't know he'd died,' said Letty. 'Wasn't he once chairman?'
It was in The Times, Edwin pointed out. 'One feels that perhaps this department ought to be represented.'
'They couldn't expect that if nobody knew him,' said Marcia.
'I suppose they'd send round a notice in case anybody wanted to go,' said Letty in her usual tolerant manner. 'After all, there might be some who'd worked with him.'
'But it's today,' said Norman indignantly. 'How could we go today, at such short notice? What's going to happen to the work?'
Nobody answered him.
'Twelve noon,' Norman read out scornfully. 'I like that! What do they think we are?'
'I think I shall go,' said Edwin, looking at his watch. 'I see it's at the church used by the university — rather a suitable setting for a Memorial Service for an agnostic.'
'I suppose you know the church, you've been there before?' Letty asked.
'Oh, yes, I know it all right,' said Edwin casually. 'Pretty undenominational, you might say. They have to cater for all sorts there, but I suppose there'll be somebody who knows what to do.'
'Let's hope so! Unless you feel like taking the service yourself,' said Norman sarcastically. He was irritated at Edwin taking what seemed to him like an unfair advantage, though where the advantage lay he could hardly have said.
The church was still decorated for Christmas, with stiff-looking poinsettias and sprigs of holly on the window ledges, but an expensive florist's arrangement of white chrysanthemums had been placed at the side of the altar, as if to emphasize the dual purpose of the church's present function.
Memorial services were not much in Edwin's line, particularly not when they commemorated persons with whom he had little or nothing in common. It wasn't as if they were like funerals, of which he had experienced his fair share — father, mother, wife and various in-law relatives. And it wasn't as if this was a proper Requiem Mass, more like a social gathering, with the smartly dressed women in hats and fur coats and the dark-suited men in good, heavy overcoats. They seemed very far removed from the little huddle of mourners Edwin associated with funerals he had attended. Of course the time of mourning had passed and this service was being held to celebrate the deceased's life and achievements, so there was a difference. Another noticeable difference was the warmth of the church on this January day. Reassuring wafts of hot air circulated round Edwin's feet and he noticed the woman in front
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