A Glass of Blessings by Barbara Pym

Author:Barbara Pym [Pym, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781559213530
Publisher: Moyer Bell
Published: 1977-12-15T06:00:00+00:00

And when earthly things are past

Bring our ransomed souls at last…

in the best known of the Epiphany hymns.

In the middle of January the Portuguese classes started again. I had been looking forward to them as an opportunity to see Piers, and almost wished that Sybil were not quite so indefatigable in her attendance so that I might have a chance of talking to him alone after the class.

The first evening we discovered that our classroom had been changed, and we were directed by mistake to one where teaching was already in progress.

‘You must not use the verb desejar if you are just wanting a glass of water or a piece of chocolate,’ said the teacher, who was a lively young Brazilian. ‘It is too strong. Desejar means to desire ..He looked despairingly at his class as if wondering whether they were capable of experiencing such a strong emotion. Then his glance lighted on Sybil and me, standing in the doorway clutching our umbrellas and books.

‘We want Mr Longridge’s class,’ I said stupidly. ‘He doesn’t seem to be here.’

‘No, he isn’t,’ said the teacher. ‘But why don’t you come and join this class? We are always laughing but we learn a lot.’

We backed out of the doorway rather foolishly. I felt that he and his class had been laughing at us, and was also resentful because they seemed to be more advanced than we were’ Piers had never told us about desejar.

‘That sounds a lively class,’ said Sybil. ‘I sometimes feel it’s a pity that Piers is so moody. Ah, there is Mrs Marble going into a door at the end of the corridor—that must be the right room.’

We found that it was and greeted our classmates with a rather marked lack of enthusiasm. Some of the commercial gentlemen were absent—perhaps they really had been sent to Pernambuco. There was no sign of Piers.

‘You’d think he could be punctual at the first class,’ grumbled Mrs Marble. ‘I was in two minds whether to come this term or not. I don’t feel I learnt very much last term, and then, well, not having a Christmas party—that wasn’t very nice, was it? When I did Spanish we had a party at the end of every term. We all contributed three and sixpence, and bought food and coffee and drinks—nothing alcoholic, of course—they wouldn’t allow wines and spirits to be drunk in the college. You can understand that, really -‘

‘It can’t have been much of a party, then,’ said Piers in his most languid tone. ‘Not really a party at all.’ He walked past us to his desk and began to open his books. Mrs Marble looked annoyed but said nothing. The lesson started. We were to learn the subjunctive, and I found myself wondering whether I could take so kindly to the Portuguese now that I realized how often they seemed to use it. It seemed as if there were going to be a great many things I couldn’t possibly say. Piers was in one of his provocative moods and hardly looked at me during the lesson.

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