Harrison Wisebite in quick succession. Why, I’d make a better husband
myself. No doubt you heard at the same time that my mother’s parted company
with Buster Foxe. She’s having money troubles at the moment. One of the reasons
why Buster packed up. I’m feeling the draught myself. Decided shortage of ready
cash. My father left what halfpence he had to that French wife of his,
supposing, quite mistakenly, Mama would always be in a position
to shell out.”
“Your mother’s
at Glimber?”
“Good God, no.
Glimber has some ministry evacuated there, so that’s one problem off her hands.
She’s living in a labourer’s cottage near a camp in Essex to be near Norman – you
remember, her little dancer. At one moment she was getting up at half-past five
every morning to cook his breakfast. There’s devotion for you. Norman’s going
to an O.CT.U. Won’t he look wonderful in a Sam Browne belt – that waist. Of
course by the nature of things he can only be a son to her – a better son than
her own, I fear – and in any case living with Norman in a cottage must be
infinitely preferable to Buster in a castle, even allowing for the early
rising. How sententious one gets. Just the sort of conclusion Tennyson was
always coming to. You know, talking of the Victorians, I’ve taken to reading Browning.”
“Our General
reads Trollope – the Victorians are obviously the fashion in this Division.”
“It was Tuffy
who started me off on him. Rather a surprising taste for her in a way. You
remember Tuffy? Nick, you make me talk of old times.”
“Miss Weedon –
of course.”
‘Tuffy cured
me of the booze. Then, having done that, she got bored with me. I see the
point, there was nothing more to do. I mean I was going to prove absolutely
impossible to set up as a serious member of civilised society. Stopping
drinking alone was sufficient to ensure that. Even I myself grasped I’d become
the most desperate of bores by being permanently sober. Then the war came along
and I began to develop all sorts of martial ambitions. Tuffy didn’t really
approve of them, although the fact they were even within the bounds of
possibility so far as I was concerned was a considerable tribute to herself.
She saw, all the same, one way or another, I was going to escape her clutches.
The long and the short of it was, I entered the army, while Tuffy married an
octogenarian – perhaps by now even nonagenarian – general. Just the age when
you get into your stride as a soldier. They’ll probably appoint him C.I.G.S.”
“You’re out of
touch. Generals are frightfully young nowadays. Widmerpool will be one at any
moment. Anyway, they might do worse than employ General Conyers. I’ve known him
for years.”
“My dear Nick,
you know everybody. Not a social item escapes you. I myself can no longer keep
up with births, marriages and deaths – well, deaths now and then perhaps, but
not births and marriages. That’s why being in the ranks suits me. No strain in
that particular respect. Nobody asks you if you read in this morning’s Times that so-and-so’s engaged or somebody
else is getting a divorce. All that had begun to get me down for some reason.
Make me tired. Anyway, to hark back to the long and wearisome story of my own
life, the point was that Tuffy, like everyone else, had had enough of me. She
wanted another sphere
in which to exercise her tireless remedial activities. That was why
I
took the shilling:
I ’listed at
home for a lancer,
Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
I am not, as
your familiarity with military insignia will already have proclaimed, strictly
speaking a lancer – just as well, for these days I couldn’t possibly take part
in those musical rides lancers are always performing at the Military Tournament
and places like that … haven’t sat on a horse for years …”
Stringham
paused a moment, beginning now to hum a bar or two of a jerky tune, the sort to
which riders at a Horse Show might canter
myself. No doubt you heard at the same time that my mother’s parted company
with Buster Foxe. She’s having money troubles at the moment. One of the reasons
why Buster packed up. I’m feeling the draught myself. Decided shortage of ready
cash. My father left what halfpence he had to that French wife of his,
supposing, quite mistakenly, Mama would always be in a position
to shell out.”
“Your mother’s
at Glimber?”
“Good God, no.
Glimber has some ministry evacuated there, so that’s one problem off her hands.
She’s living in a labourer’s cottage near a camp in Essex to be near Norman – you
remember, her little dancer. At one moment she was getting up at half-past five
every morning to cook his breakfast. There’s devotion for you. Norman’s going
to an O.CT.U. Won’t he look wonderful in a Sam Browne belt – that waist. Of
course by the nature of things he can only be a son to her – a better son than
her own, I fear – and in any case living with Norman in a cottage must be
infinitely preferable to Buster in a castle, even allowing for the early
rising. How sententious one gets. Just the sort of conclusion Tennyson was
always coming to. You know, talking of the Victorians, I’ve taken to reading Browning.”
“Our General
reads Trollope – the Victorians are obviously the fashion in this Division.”
“It was Tuffy
who started me off on him. Rather a surprising taste for her in a way. You
remember Tuffy? Nick, you make me talk of old times.”
“Miss Weedon –
of course.”
‘Tuffy cured
me of the booze. Then, having done that, she got bored with me. I see the
point, there was nothing more to do. I mean I was going to prove absolutely
impossible to set up as a serious member of civilised society. Stopping
drinking alone was sufficient to ensure that. Even I myself grasped I’d become
the most desperate of bores by being permanently sober. Then the war came along
and I began to develop all sorts of martial ambitions. Tuffy didn’t really
approve of them, although the fact they were even within the bounds of
possibility so far as I was concerned was a considerable tribute to herself.
She saw, all the same, one way or another, I was going to escape her clutches.
The long and the short of it was, I entered the army, while Tuffy married an
octogenarian – perhaps by now even nonagenarian – general. Just the age when
you get into your stride as a soldier. They’ll probably appoint him C.I.G.S.”
“You’re out of
touch. Generals are frightfully young nowadays. Widmerpool will be one at any
moment. Anyway, they might do worse than employ General Conyers. I’ve known him
for years.”
“My dear Nick,
you know everybody. Not a social item escapes you. I myself can no longer keep
up with births, marriages and deaths – well, deaths now and then perhaps, but
not births and marriages. That’s why being in the ranks suits me. No strain in
that particular respect. Nobody asks you if you read in this morning’s Times that so-and-so’s engaged or somebody
else is getting a divorce. All that had begun to get me down for some reason.
Make me tired. Anyway, to hark back to the long and wearisome story of my own
life, the point was that Tuffy, like everyone else, had had enough of me. She
wanted another sphere
in which to exercise her tireless remedial activities. That was why
I
took the shilling:
I ’listed at
home for a lancer,
Oh who would not sleep with the brave?
I am not, as
your familiarity with military insignia will already have proclaimed, strictly
speaking a lancer – just as well, for these days I couldn’t possibly take part
in those musical rides lancers are always performing at the Military Tournament
and places like that … haven’t sat on a horse for years …”
Stringham
paused a moment, beginning now to hum a bar or two of a jerky tune, the sort to
which riders at a Horse Show might canter
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