All the Conspirators by Christopher Isherwood

Author:Christopher Isherwood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2015-12-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter X

THREE TELEGRAMS HAD arrived.

Cambridge, 11.0. Return postponed wiring later.

Cambridge. 12.15. Expect return for dinner don’t wait.

Cambridge. 3.0. Returning after dinner please please both stay indoors no cause for alarm.

••••••

‘It only means that they’ve just got Mother out of bed,’ said Philip, being shown them on his return from the office. ‘That’s what it is. Those Balls last till five or six in the morning.’

‘Do they really?’ Currants was thrilled. Past forty, the small hours had not yet lost their romance for her.

‘Anyhow, we shall have our dinner tête-à-tête for once.’

She beamed with happiness. Mistress of the house; in Dorothy’s chair. If only it were hers for good. To come in each evening to her soothing, vegetable society – what a relief. When Philip spoke to her, she was always amused or interested. When he was silent, she did not make him feel, as his mother contrived to, that she was being neglected.

‘How would you like it,’ he asked jocularly, ‘if we kept house together, all on our own?’

A proposal of marriage. What a gesture. Spectacular as incest. She adores me. And legally we could. It’d kill Mother.

Downstairs, they played jazz records. Philip gave her a Turkish cigarette.

‘I hope I shan’t have a dreadful headache to-morrow,’ she gaily smiled.

‘Of course you won’t. Now then, what’s this one called?’

‘It’s one I know?’

‘You’ve heard it a couple of hundred times, at least.’

‘ “My Baby loves Spearmint” — ? No, don’t tell me. I’m so stupid. I’ll think again.’

She knit her brows.

Mother, of course, wanted them to be in to hear all the latest Cambridge gush. How beautiful the lights looked through the trees and how lovely the band sounded and how wonderful all the dresses (she’d call them dresses) were, and what a delicious supper they had. Oh, and probably, rather later, there’d begin leaking out various hints. I’m not so old as I thought I was. All the fun I’ve missed. And somebody’s uncle, exceedingly tight. It’s never too late to begin, you know. Tee-hee. Faugh. But I’ll sit like a lump of pudding and not move a single muscle of my face; even if she swears she’s been –

‘Isn’t that the front door, dear?’

‘Yes, I think it was.’

Currants jumped to her feet.

‘Aren’t you coming up?’

‘They’ll find us down here all right.’

‘Oh, but I must just –’

She had bustled out. Philip lolled back in his chair. He heard his mother’s voice in the hall, very distinctly, so that he could almost see her, in her silk dust-coat, drawing off her gloves.

‘Well, here we are; back at last!’ and then:

‘Yes, it was a splendid train. We got up in –’

The sitting-room door closed.

Yawning, Philip picked up a novel. He half decided to go upstairs to his bedroom and be free of them until breakfast.

About ten minutes later, steps came quietly down to his door. It was Joan. She had taken off her hat and outdoor things. She looked pale.

‘Mother hasn’t been down here yet?’ she asked, hesitating.

‘No. Why? Is anything wrong?’

‘Wrong.’ The word made her faintly smile.

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