Altered States Read Free Page B

her heather mixture coat and skirt and trilby hat, her face and neck were deeply flushed. Both she and Marjorie were silent, though clearly longing to impart something of moment.
    ‘Have you eaten?’ asked my mother, her usual greeting.
    I assured her that I had.
    ‘I think we should like some more tea,’ she went on. ‘The girls are rather upset.’
    ‘What do you think of this, then, Alan?’ said Sybil, who could wait no longer. ‘Humphrey’s getting married!’
    I thought nothing of it. Indeed I could hardly bring Humphrey to mind, although he had been present, along with the girls, at various Christmas gatherings, mainly the drinks parties my parents used to give on Boxing Day when my father was alive. If I thought of him at all it was with a mixture of amusement and distaste. The amusement was caused by Humphrey’s solemn and often lachrymose unworldliness. Although young at the time of these encounters, I recognised and appreciated true blamelessness, which nevertheless disturbed me. My distaste, also occasioned by my youth, was for his collapsed appearance, the narrow chest, the burgeoning stomach, the trousers which nearly reached his armpits. I felt sympathy for his prospective wife, forced to contemplate this disgrace every day, and—but this was unimaginable—every night as well.
    ‘A foreigner,’ said Marjorie bitterly. It now occurred to me that she had had hopes in this direction herself.
    ‘It was the holiday that brought it on,’ said Sybil. ‘That was your idea, Alice.’ Your bright idea was what she meant.
    ‘It wasn’t a bad idea,’ my mother observed. ‘Humphrey’s not old but he’s developed elderly ways. He sits in that flat all day with nothing to do when he could be enjoying the sun somewhere. He’s comfortably off, he’s reasonably healthy.But he’s becoming morbid. And timid. I suggested Hyères, if you remember. He’d have been perfectly safe there. I can’t think why he went to Paris …’
    ‘If he wanted a holiday he could have come on the
Sea Princess
with us,’ said Sybil, flushing more deeply. This project for a winter cruise, discussed many times, was never likely to be realised; indeed its main attraction was that it need never be undertaken. All three of them, Humphrey, Sybil and Marjorie, were disinclined to move. Should an uncharacteristic fit of restlessness seize them, and the booking actually be made, they would no doubt stay on board the ship as it travelled round the world and never get off it, leaving the world to take care of itself.
    ‘Of course we shan’t stay around to meet her.’ This was Marjorie.
    ‘You must, dear. What can you possibly have against the poor woman? As far as I can see this sets you free. You’ve both been so good to him, but it must have seemed a bit of a tie, sometimes, giving up every Sunday. And all that cooking …’
    At this they both bridled. ‘I hope we’ve never counted the cost, Alice, if that’s what you’re implying.’
    ‘No, of course not. Oh dear, I didn’t mean to offend you, please don’t think that. You’ve both been quite marvellous, perfect friends to a lonely man. But now he’s lonely no longer. That leaves you free. Or freer,’ she added, surveying their faces in vain for a response.
    ‘There’ll be changes certainly,’ said Sybil. ‘For one thing we’ll be moving down to the Hall.’
    ‘That place in Dorset? But you’re both too young to go into retirement. And what will you do with the house?’
    ‘Sarah will live there. It can be her home until she gets married. If she ever does.’ This was accompanied by a sigh of a different order, a careworn spontaneous sigh.
    ‘How can you say that? Sarah’s young, she hasn’t started her life yet. When does she leave Oxford?’
    ‘She’s left. What she got up to as a student I don’t know. I’m glad Alan was there to keep an eye on her. Not that she mentioned you, Alan. But then she never tells me about her friends.’
    It was useless