The Parasites by Daphne du Maurier

Author:Daphne du Maurier [Maurier, Daphne du]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical, literature, satire
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2013-12-17T07:00:00+00:00

For Celia it would be any spring, or any summer. Whatever the season, the routine would be the same. Early tea, at half-past eight. She made it herself, on a little spirit stove, because she did not want to put the servants to extra trouble. Her alarm clock would wake her with its shrill, impersonal summons, and she reached out her hand to bury it at once beneath the eiderdown. Then she allowed herself five minutes to enjoy the luxury of bed. Five minutes, but no more. Up, to make the tea, to have her bath, to take the morning papers in to Pappy and to sense his mood and wishes for the day. There was always the little ritual of enquiring how he had slept. “A good night, Pappy?”

“Fair, my darling, fair.” And from his tone she would have to gather whether the hours that stretched ahead for both of them held placidity or doom.

“I’ve had that old pain under the heart again. We had better send for Pleydon.”

Then she knew where she was. Then she knew it meant a day at home, very probably in bed, and there would be no hope of going to the Art School that morning, or that afternoon.

“Is it bad enough for that?”

“It was so bad at three this morning that I thought I was going to die. That’s how bad it was, my darling.”

She was onto Pleydon at once. Yes, she was reassured, Pleydon would come round as soon as he could. He had one urgent call to make, but he should be with Mr. Delaney by half-past ten for certain.

“It’s all right, Pappy. He’ll come. Now, what can I get you?”

“There’s a letter there, my darling. We shall have to answer it. From poor old Marcus Guest, living in Majorca. Haven’t heard from him for years.” Pappy reached across the sheets for his horn-rimmed spectacles. “Read what he says, my darling, read what he says.”

Then Celia took the letter—it was closely written, and there were six pages of it, very hard to read. She could hardly understand a word of it, the allusions were to people and to places of whom she had never heard. But Pappy was delighted.

“Poor old Marcus Guest,” he kept repeating, “who would have thought he was still alive? And in Majorca. They say it’s very pleasant in Majorca. We ought to try it. It might be good for my voice. Find out about Majorca, my darling. Ring up somebody who can tell us about Majorca.”

They passed the time until the doctor came discussing plans for travel. Yes, there must be trains that went through France. They could take Paris on the way. See Niall. See how Niall was getting on. Perhaps persuade Niall to come with them. Or better still, not go by train. Go by boat. There were so many shipping lines, they all passed through the Mediterranean. Certainly the best way would be to go by boat. Ah, here was Pleydon. “Pleydon, we are going to Majorca.

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