he had asked where the bed was. May had whipped off the divan cover to show him, and George had bounced on the divan to demonstrate its softness, and then they had left Baggy to have a wash in his very own bathroom, and trooped off to the Long Room.
George had called for champagne which, of course, May had ready. (She’d said to June, ‘He’s sure to want to celebrate – and whether he does or not, I do.’) And they had toasted each other and their new homes, and George and Robert had been given a full account of the whole day. Then there had been a telephone call to Hugh and Corinna, followed by conversation about what those two might be up to, the general impression being that they wouldn’t be up to anything, in spite of May’s half-hopesto the contrary – ‘Well, there’s a chance that it might stop them marrying.’ June said she was shocked by May’s attitude and they all discussed present-day permissiveness. June said she was as permissive as anyone about other people’s children but not about her own – ‘or perhaps it’s just that I feel it’s awful to talk about it, somehow it’s an invasion of their privacy’. She was then given more champagne by George who said, ‘I bet the four of us would have been permissive all right, if there had been anything to stop us getting married as soon as we wanted to.’ But it turned out that George was alone in thinking this.
After that, someone had remembered that Baggy was all alone and George went to get him. He drank very little of his champagne and June told May that cocoa was his evening drink. Cocoa was one of the things May had not brought with her, but she had some cooking chocolate and was able not only to make Baggy a cup of it but also supply him with a Thermosful to see him through the night. She also cut foie gras sandwiches for everyone. June disapproved of these because of the poor tortured geese but, for once, swallowed her scruples along with the foie gras.
May chivvied them all to bed fairly soon because George would have to catch an early morning train; he had booked the taxi that had brought them from the station. Torches were found – trust May to have a special torch drawer, already equipped – and then George and May insisted on escorting Robert and June through the lilac grove; May had by now learned her way about this. In the torchlight, the grassy paths were brilliantly green, here and there sprinkled with lingering snowdrops. And out on the little lawn in front of the cottage, the daffodil shoots were already thick.
‘How marvellous everything’s going to be,’ said May.
‘How marvellous everything is now,’ said June.
George told Robert he ought to carry June over the threshold of the cottage.
‘What nonsense,’ said June, ‘I weigh a ton.’
‘Let’s see,’ said George, and himself carried her into the little hall.
Much laughter, much kissing goodnight. May kissed June, George kissed June, Robert kissed May – to June’s relief; Robert, unlike George, was not a natural kisser and, though fond of May, did not always pay her as much attention as June felt he should. But tonight he behaved with so much warmth that she almost expected him to kiss George.
Robert hadn’t wished to go over the cottage that night – ‘We should start shifting furniture around’ – so they’d gone straight upstairs; from the landing window they’d seen flashes of light where May and George were making their way back through the lilac grove. June was glad that the beds were made up and turned down invitingly, and she had put out Robert’s pyjamas and dressing gown.
He said, ‘How good of you to find time to unpack for me.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t have time to unpack all our clothes.’
‘Plenty of time for that tomorrow. Plenty of time for everything.’
‘Bliss, sheer bliss. Oh, Robert!’ In sudden exuberance she flung herself on him.
He was welcoming, if slightly astonished. ‘Are you sure you’re not too
George had called for champagne which, of course, May had ready. (She’d said to June, ‘He’s sure to want to celebrate – and whether he does or not, I do.’) And they had toasted each other and their new homes, and George and Robert had been given a full account of the whole day. Then there had been a telephone call to Hugh and Corinna, followed by conversation about what those two might be up to, the general impression being that they wouldn’t be up to anything, in spite of May’s half-hopesto the contrary – ‘Well, there’s a chance that it might stop them marrying.’ June said she was shocked by May’s attitude and they all discussed present-day permissiveness. June said she was as permissive as anyone about other people’s children but not about her own – ‘or perhaps it’s just that I feel it’s awful to talk about it, somehow it’s an invasion of their privacy’. She was then given more champagne by George who said, ‘I bet the four of us would have been permissive all right, if there had been anything to stop us getting married as soon as we wanted to.’ But it turned out that George was alone in thinking this.
After that, someone had remembered that Baggy was all alone and George went to get him. He drank very little of his champagne and June told May that cocoa was his evening drink. Cocoa was one of the things May had not brought with her, but she had some cooking chocolate and was able not only to make Baggy a cup of it but also supply him with a Thermosful to see him through the night. She also cut foie gras sandwiches for everyone. June disapproved of these because of the poor tortured geese but, for once, swallowed her scruples along with the foie gras.
May chivvied them all to bed fairly soon because George would have to catch an early morning train; he had booked the taxi that had brought them from the station. Torches were found – trust May to have a special torch drawer, already equipped – and then George and May insisted on escorting Robert and June through the lilac grove; May had by now learned her way about this. In the torchlight, the grassy paths were brilliantly green, here and there sprinkled with lingering snowdrops. And out on the little lawn in front of the cottage, the daffodil shoots were already thick.
‘How marvellous everything’s going to be,’ said May.
‘How marvellous everything is now,’ said June.
George told Robert he ought to carry June over the threshold of the cottage.
‘What nonsense,’ said June, ‘I weigh a ton.’
‘Let’s see,’ said George, and himself carried her into the little hall.
Much laughter, much kissing goodnight. May kissed June, George kissed June, Robert kissed May – to June’s relief; Robert, unlike George, was not a natural kisser and, though fond of May, did not always pay her as much attention as June felt he should. But tonight he behaved with so much warmth that she almost expected him to kiss George.
Robert hadn’t wished to go over the cottage that night – ‘We should start shifting furniture around’ – so they’d gone straight upstairs; from the landing window they’d seen flashes of light where May and George were making their way back through the lilac grove. June was glad that the beds were made up and turned down invitingly, and she had put out Robert’s pyjamas and dressing gown.
He said, ‘How good of you to find time to unpack for me.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t have time to unpack all our clothes.’
‘Plenty of time for that tomorrow. Plenty of time for everything.’
‘Bliss, sheer bliss. Oh, Robert!’ In sudden exuberance she flung herself on him.
He was welcoming, if slightly astonished. ‘Are you sure you’re not too
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