dare say you may have seen us.’
‘Yes, I have, but that was before I knew you properly, and before you knew me at all,’ said Barbara, remembering one day when she had gone into the village shop to buy something and had found him standing there, wrestling with a long list of groceries. ‘It was such a surprise to see you.’ She laughed. ‘I’d always thought of you as you were lecturing at the Schools, and then I saw you in shorts, buying tins of baked beans and spaghetti. It made you so much more human.’
‘Well, I am human, quite human,’ said Mr. Cleveland, rather pleased at the idea of himself being anything else. ‘And now we seem to be at the door of Fuller’s. Shall we go in here?’
‘Yes, I think it’s a very suitable place,’ said Barbara. ‘Quite the right sprt of place for a tutor to take his pupil.’
‘His favourite pupil,’ said Mr. Cleveland, with rather stiff gallantry. ‘I shall expect you to eat a lot of cakes.’
They went upstairs and looked around for a table. ‘Do you like the new part down the steps?’ asked Mr. Cleveland. They stood at the top of them, looking down at the groups of North Oxford spinsters, dons’ wives and families, who were taking some refreshment after their Christmas shopping.
‘I think the other part is nicer,’ said Barbara.
‘Yes,’ agreed Mr. Cleveland. ‘Less full of chattering women.’
‘Let’s sit by the window,’ said Barbara.
When the tea came she found that he liked his with milk and two lumps of sugar, just like so many other people: Peter, her brother, or that dull young man from St. Wilfrid’s Hall, who was always asking her to go out with him. It was a wonderful thing for Barbara to have found out how Francis Cleveland liked his tea. She began to pour hot water into the teapot, trying at the same time to appear intelligently interested in what she was saying. But really she was taking in her surroundings, so that she could have many details stored away in her memory, each of which might have the power to bring this afternoon back to her. She noticed the big pink chrysanthemums with heads like mops, the cakes in their cellophane coverings, even the people sitting at the tables near them. There was a tall, handsome woman, perhaps the wife of a don, with her three little boys, chattering about Christmas presents and fingering the cakes. One day those little boys would grow up, and although they would never know it, they would somehow all be linked together by this experience. Barbara suddenly felt a warm, all-embracing love for everybody in Fuller’s that afternoon, even for the chattering dons’ wives and North Oxford spinsters, who were sitting in the other part of the cafe, anxiously wondering whether they had bought the right things or whether that cushion cover that Ella had given them last year could possibly be used as a present for anybody else without fear of discovery.
But if most of them were thinking more prosaic thoughts than Barbara, two at least were in some way sharing in her experience.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Morrow rather timidly, ‘Mr. Cleveland is her tutor. It seems to me that it’s quite an ordinary thing for a tutor to take his pupil out to tea.’
‘I am not denying that,’ said Miss Doggett, ‘but the circumstances here seem to me to be quite different. It would be a perfectly natural thing for a tutor to ask a pupil to tea at his house, where his wife or housekeeper or some elderly person could act as hostess. But to sneak off to a cafe in the town, and then to rush off so unceremoniously when he sees somebody he knows … well, Miss Morrow, you can hardly say that that is quite an ordinary thing.’
Miss Morrow was silent for a moment, silent in admiration at Miss Doggett’s capacity for twisting the facts of a situation so that it appeared to be something completely different. ‘But, Miss Doggett,’ she persisted, ‘I don’t think they did see us. I don’t think either of them did.
‘Yes, I have, but that was before I knew you properly, and before you knew me at all,’ said Barbara, remembering one day when she had gone into the village shop to buy something and had found him standing there, wrestling with a long list of groceries. ‘It was such a surprise to see you.’ She laughed. ‘I’d always thought of you as you were lecturing at the Schools, and then I saw you in shorts, buying tins of baked beans and spaghetti. It made you so much more human.’
‘Well, I am human, quite human,’ said Mr. Cleveland, rather pleased at the idea of himself being anything else. ‘And now we seem to be at the door of Fuller’s. Shall we go in here?’
‘Yes, I think it’s a very suitable place,’ said Barbara. ‘Quite the right sprt of place for a tutor to take his pupil.’
‘His favourite pupil,’ said Mr. Cleveland, with rather stiff gallantry. ‘I shall expect you to eat a lot of cakes.’
They went upstairs and looked around for a table. ‘Do you like the new part down the steps?’ asked Mr. Cleveland. They stood at the top of them, looking down at the groups of North Oxford spinsters, dons’ wives and families, who were taking some refreshment after their Christmas shopping.
‘I think the other part is nicer,’ said Barbara.
‘Yes,’ agreed Mr. Cleveland. ‘Less full of chattering women.’
‘Let’s sit by the window,’ said Barbara.
When the tea came she found that he liked his with milk and two lumps of sugar, just like so many other people: Peter, her brother, or that dull young man from St. Wilfrid’s Hall, who was always asking her to go out with him. It was a wonderful thing for Barbara to have found out how Francis Cleveland liked his tea. She began to pour hot water into the teapot, trying at the same time to appear intelligently interested in what she was saying. But really she was taking in her surroundings, so that she could have many details stored away in her memory, each of which might have the power to bring this afternoon back to her. She noticed the big pink chrysanthemums with heads like mops, the cakes in their cellophane coverings, even the people sitting at the tables near them. There was a tall, handsome woman, perhaps the wife of a don, with her three little boys, chattering about Christmas presents and fingering the cakes. One day those little boys would grow up, and although they would never know it, they would somehow all be linked together by this experience. Barbara suddenly felt a warm, all-embracing love for everybody in Fuller’s that afternoon, even for the chattering dons’ wives and North Oxford spinsters, who were sitting in the other part of the cafe, anxiously wondering whether they had bought the right things or whether that cushion cover that Ella had given them last year could possibly be used as a present for anybody else without fear of discovery.
But if most of them were thinking more prosaic thoughts than Barbara, two at least were in some way sharing in her experience.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Morrow rather timidly, ‘Mr. Cleveland is her tutor. It seems to me that it’s quite an ordinary thing for a tutor to take his pupil out to tea.’
‘I am not denying that,’ said Miss Doggett, ‘but the circumstances here seem to me to be quite different. It would be a perfectly natural thing for a tutor to ask a pupil to tea at his house, where his wife or housekeeper or some elderly person could act as hostess. But to sneak off to a cafe in the town, and then to rush off so unceremoniously when he sees somebody he knows … well, Miss Morrow, you can hardly say that that is quite an ordinary thing.’
Miss Morrow was silent for a moment, silent in admiration at Miss Doggett’s capacity for twisting the facts of a situation so that it appeared to be something completely different. ‘But, Miss Doggett,’ she persisted, ‘I don’t think they did see us. I don’t think either of them did.
Similar Books
