Eva Trout by ELIZABETH BOWEN

Author:ELIZABETH BOWEN [Bowen, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780385721318
Publisher: Anchor
Published: 1968-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

PART II

EIGHT YEARS LATER

ONE

Visits

EIGHT YEARS later, Eva and her little boy, Jeremy, boarded a Pan-American Boeing 707 at O’Hare Airport, Chicago. Destination: London. This was to be Jeremy’s first trans-Atlantic flight, and, at the end of the journey, first view of England— both prospects filled him with elation. While they awaited the take off, he looked perfunctorily at the comics on his knee, but all the same, every now and then, with uncontrollable eloquence up at Eva. Each time he did so, she gave him a meditative smile, which he, having watched her lips for an instant, returned. Each of their interchanges was marked by this sort of gravity, which they had in common. He was a beautiful child, fair hair cut straight across a wide, forehead, eyes with a skylike power of varying between grey and blue. His skin, though unfreckled, delicate and fair, looked healthy. His features were to an extent in the Trout cast, having an openness which had been Willy’s and was Eva’s; yet his alikeness to her, at moments striking, had about it something more underlying, being of the kind which is brought about by close, almost ceaseless companionship and constant, pensive, mutual contemplation. Whether the boy would be tall, it was not yet possible to say; at present, he was average for his years. He was dressed in rather a British manner, cream silk shirt with a blue tie, short grey knickerbockers. Eva looked orderly in a Neiman-Marcus suit, also flannel grey. The two were traveling in comfort, indeed style. Others glanced at them favourably. There was no professor.

The lights trembled. The jet moved forward along the runway.

“Here we go—Jeremy! We’re off!”

He put his hand in hers.

At the London end, they had reservations at Paley’s Hotel, Gloucester Road, S.W.7, recommended to Eva as a good family one. It was. The mahogany lift, massive ivory woodwork, Turkey-carpeted corridors had all the solidarity she hoped. They had a suite at the top; they came in late, so it was not till next morning that Jeremy saw out over the horizontal city, green-misted by its many, many trees—this was mid-April; spring, too, had arrived in London. They had lunch at the Zoo, then went to Madame Tussaud’s. The evening, they spent in their suite, looking at pictures of London in colourful books which had been bought. The following morning, at the hour ordained, round came the chauffeur-driven Daimler. They were off again—this time, into Worcestershire.

The boredom, for Eva, of being a passenger was mitigated by showing Jeremy England. Lambs, elms, cottages, colleges (they passed through Oxford). He missed nothing. From time to time, dread of the impending day overcame her; the aware child, at such moments, went supine against her, shoulder to shoulder. They stopped for lunch at Evesham, roast beef, apple tart, afterwards walking some way along the river looking at boats. “You’d like a boat of your own?” He certainly would. “A seagoing boat, with an outboard engine?” Still better! … Just after three o’clock, the Daimler drew up outside Larkins.

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