All the Stories of Muriel Spark by Muriel Spark

Author:Muriel Spark
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8112-2437-6
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 1953-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

THE FATHERS’ DAUGHTERS

She left the old man in his deck chair on the front, having first adjusted the umbrella awning with her own hand, and with her own hand, put his panama hat at a comfortable angle. The beach attendant had been sulky, but she didn’t see why one should lay out tips only for adjusting an umbrella and a panama hat. Since the introduction of the new franc it was impossible to tip less than a franc. There seemed to be a conspiracy all along the coast to hide the lesser coins from the visitors, and one could only find franc pieces in one’s purse, and one had to be careful not to embarrass Father, and one …

She hurried along the Rue Paradis, keeping in the hot shade, among all the old, old smells of Nice, not only garlic wafting from the cafés, and of the hot invisible air itself, but the smells from her memory, from thirty-five summers at Nice in apartments of long ago, Father’s summer salon, Father’s friends’ children, Father’s friends, writers, young artists dating back five years at Nice, six, nine years; and then, before the war, twenty years ago—when we were at Nice, do you remember, Father? Do you remember the pension on the Boulevard Victor Hugo when we were rather poor? Do you remember the Americans at the Negresco in 1937—how changed, how demure they are now! Do you remember, Father, how in the old days we disliked the thick carpets—at least, you disliked them, and what you dislike, I dislike, isn’t it so, Father?

Yes, Dora, we don’t care for luxury. Comfort, yes, but luxury, no.

I doubt if we can afford to stay at an hotel on the front this year, Father.

What’s that? What’s that you say?

I said I doubt if we ought to stay on the front this year, Father; the Promenade des Anglais is becoming very trippery. Remember you disliked the thick carpets …

Yes, yes, of course.

Of course, and so we’ll go, I suggest, to a little place I’ve found on the Boulevard Gambetta, and if we don’t like that there’s a very good place on the Boulevard Victor Hugo. Within our means, Father, modest and …

What’s that you say?

I said it wasn’t a vulgar place, Father.

Ah. No.

And so I’ll just drop them a note and book a couple of bedrooms. They may be small, but the food …

Facing the sea, Dora.

They are all very vulgar places facing the sea, Father. Very distracting. No peace at all. Times have changed, you know.

Ah. Well, I leave it to you, dear. Tell them I desire a large room, suitable for entertaining. Spare no expense, Dora.

Oh, of course not, Father.

And I hope to God we’ve won the lottery, she thought, as she hurried up the little street to the lottery kiosk. Someone’s got to win it out of the whole of France. The dark-skinned blonde at the lottery kiosk took an interest in Dora, who came so regularly each morning rather than buy a newspaper to see the results.

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