Jizzle by John Wyndham

Author:John Wyndham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 1953-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Affair of the Heart

1952

Tells of a man who has proposed to the same woman on the same day for over thirty years. Why, then, does he commit suicide after the 32nd date?

Eliot suddenly left what he was saying in mid-air. From the other side of the D’Avignon restaurant the head-waiter, Jules, was goggling at him. Concern transfigured every line of the big man’s expressive face; the effect was dramatic, and somewhat startling.

Jean followed her escort’s line of sight.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“Search me,” said Eliot.

They watched Jules’ black bulk come weaving between the glistening tables like a skilfully handled dirigible until it swayed to anchor beside them. The look of controlled horror on the man’s face fascinated Eliot.

“Poison in the soup?” he inquired, amiably.

Jules, unsmiling, continued to radiate distress.

“Excuse me, m’sieur. I am very sorry. A mistake has been made,” he said, intensely.

Eliot heard him the way he usually heard people until he was well-accustomed to them. One of the troubles of a practising phonetician’s life is that wherever he goes, his work goes right along with him. Every chance-heard stranger speaks in a double language – behind the words he is telling where he comes from, where he was educated, where he lives now. The sounds he makes are analysed as he utters them; his lips, tongue, and teeth are watched to see how he forms them. All this is likely to be so professionally interesting that intended purpose of the sounds is frequently overlooked.

It was so now. Eliot could have told any interested person right off that one of Jules’ parents – most likely his mother – had come from the Midi; that Jules himself had been brought up in England; that he could have spoken perfectly normal English if he had liked, but that he had sustained his maternal accent, with Soho variations, for professional purposes until it had become a habit; also that his articulation revealed him as a man thoughtful of detail. Which was quite a lot for a few words. What he could not have told was what Jules had actually said.

Jules had made his own modest deduction, too. He had observed that the patron was an American – from New York, of course, because in England all Americans are supposed to be from New York, except a few in the movie business. He had also realized that contact was imperfect. He amplified:

“An unfortunate mistake, m’sieur. This table. It is reserved.”

“Sure it is. I reserved it yesterday – by telephone.”

“But that is the mistake, m’sieur. If m’sieur and mam’selle would not mind moving? There are other good tables – ”

“That seems a good reason for letting me keep to the one I booked.”

“But it was not right, m’sieur. It was a mistake to make the booking. Every year this table is reserved on May 28. Every year.”

Jean leaned forward, her eyes on Jules’ troubled face.

“Every year, on May 28?” she repeated.

“Yes, mam’selle. For eight-thirty. It is a standing order.”

“Well, this year – ” Eliot began, but the girl broke in.

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