The Wars by Timothy Findley

Author:Timothy Findley
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Canada
Published: 2016-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

Hear thou my prayer—unto thee shall all flesh come…

‘It’s comforting, isn’t it,’ she says.

But you wonder.

12 Transcript: Lady Juliet d’Orsey—1

‘They met—my sister and Robert Ross—because of that man Harris. And Jamie Villiers…’ (Captain James Villiers was the man in bandages Barbara and Taffler went to visit.) ‘Jamie had always been a friend of ours. He was very close to my brother Clive. Clive’s only sport was riding. Jamie was one of the finest point-to-pointers in the country. His greatest ambition was to ride the Grand National. This was unheard of—of course; not just because he was the son of a duke but because he was enormous. Enor-mous! Tall as a giraffe. And just as sweet. Dear Heart. He was a lovely man. Barbara was devoted to him. Weren’t we all? But Barbara made a dreadful nuisance of herself. I should explain that all of Barbara’s friends were men. Women—myself amongst them, alas—irritated and irked her. They make me itch, she said. She adored our brothers, who were closest to her in age. I was eight years younger. Temple was a mere babe. So Barbara grew up with Michael and Clive and all of their friends were her friends. It was always understood, in our family, that when somebody spoke of “the girls” they referred to me and Temple—never to Barbara. For as long as I can remember she had a taste for heroes and athletes. She enjoyed the spectacle of winning—but more than that, she made a sort of cult of exclusivity: letting people in and out of her life. She was like a club. But she wasn’t a snob. Anything but. It was just that a wall went up if you didn’t intrigue her. I think that was it. You had to intrigue her or you didn’t exist. There she is over there. It’s not a bad picture. You can see the sceptical eyes and the strange perpetual smile. I’ll tell you a secret about that smile. It wasn’t a smile at all. It was a nervous dimple on her left side. True. I swear it. I was saying…Jamie Villiers. Yes. This was before the war. I was only nine. Or eight or something. Barbara always tagged along when Clive and Jamie took the horses out. Clive and Jamie were both at Cambridge. Just. I think they hadn’t even been up a year. Barbara hadn’t an ounce of sophistication. She was very much like a man in that. I’ve never met—have you?—a truly sophisticated man. World-weary and discreet—of course. But never sophisticated. Barbara couldn’t even see what she was interrupting. She could be such a dreadful clod, you know. Day after day she’d tag along till Clive had to tell her. Well—he had to indicate that she was mucking up a friendship. She came storming into the house—this was up at Stourbridge St Aubyn’s—and flew around in an absolute rage. I don’t understand! I don’t understand! she kept saying. Finally, I had to tell her. They’re in love, I said.

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