From a View to a Death by Anthony Powell

Author:Anthony Powell [Powell, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Chicago Press
Published: 2014-03-25T23:00:00+00:00

5

MRS. PASSENGER, who was thinking about the pageant and the cottage hospital and the best place to get bath-salts, walked across the lawn in the direction of Capes the gardener. She stopped to have a look at the monkey-puzzles on the way. It was a fine morning and there was an exhilarating feeling of freshness in the air. Capes was on all fours by one of the flower-beds, tying aluminium labels on to the stalks of some withered shrubs. Mrs. Passenger came close up to him before he saw her. When he looked round at last he got up laboriously from the ground and stood with his eyes fixed on her while he wiped his hands on the seat of his trousers.

‘Good morning, Capes.’

‘Good morning, m’lady.’

This was a danger-signal. Capes only called Mrs. Passenger that when he was in a bad temper. It was a warning for her to keep her distance. The running up of the Jolly Roger. Mrs. Passenger knew this and proceeded cautiously. There were several things which she intended to say.

‘What a beautiful morning it is.’

‘Yes, m’lady.’

‘I want to speak to you, Capes, about staking the gladioli. You know it is very important to stake them early if the flowers are to do well. I think that in past years they may have been left a little late.’

Capes watched Mrs. Passenger with profound melancholy. He continued his self-massage, turning his eyes to the ground. At the same time he gave a sort of groan to himself. Mrs. Passenger said:

‘And then there was another thing. The old wood wants cutting away from the flowered-out ramblers. The new wood must be given every opportunity of growing.’

‘Yes, m’lady.’

‘Will you see to that?’

‘Very good, m’lady.’

Mrs. Passenger paused. There was something else too. What was it? She was thinking how lovely a morning it was and how nice the house looked from this part of the garden. She must make arrangements to have it photographed from this spot. Country Life might be interested. If they ever wanted to sell the place it was always as well to have something of that kind to show prospective buyers.

‘Oh, yes. About the kitchen garden. The cauliflowers. Have you tried working salt into the soil in showery weather?’

Capes shook his head. He looked more wretched than ever.

‘Tried it aforetime,’ he said. becoming all at once a stage peasant, a line of defence he sometimes took up when Mr. or Mrs. Passenger became too exigent.

‘It works wonders with the heads.’

‘Yes, m’lady.’

‘Lady Llanstephan was telling me about it when we were over there the other day.’

‘She was, ma’am?’

‘She said they had found it very successful.’

Zouch, who had been strolling round the garden to make a break in the morning’s work, which had consisted in doing some drawings of Betty’s head, came through the trees. Mrs. Passenger, absorbed in her own thoughts, watched him walking towards her. Capes had had enough. He knelt down at Mrs. Passenger’s feet as if he were about to ask her to run away with him.

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