get starkers in front of mine host, as you might imagine. He said, “Don’t worry, she’ll do the rest.” He just sat me down on the bed, wrapped this scarf around my head, knotted it twice, made me promise as an Englishman not to do any peeping, and left the room. A couple of minutes later I heard the door open.’
My uncle put down his whisky, set his head back and closed his eyes, closing them to remember something he had not in any case seen. Indulgently, I let him drag out the pause. At last he said, ‘And then the next day. Again. Raining again too.’
The gas-fire noisily held its breath, the ice-cubes trilled promptingly in my glass. But Uncle Freddy didn’t seem to want to continue. Or perhaps he’d really stopped. That wouldn’t do. It was - how shall I put it? - like narrative cock-teasing.
‘So?’
‘So,’ my uncle repeated softly. ‘Just so.’
We sat quietly for a minute or two until I couldn’t avoid the question. ‘And what was the difference?’
Uncle Freddy, head back and eyes still squeezed together, uttered a noise between a sigh and a whimper. Eventually he said, ‘ The French lass licked the raindrops from my face .’ He opened his eyes again, and showed me his tears.
I was strangely moved. I was also wearily suspicious, but this didn’t stop me being moved. The French lass licked the raindrops from my face. I gave my uncle - whether plausible liar or sentimental remembrancer - the gift of my envy.
‘You could tell?’
‘Tell what?’ He seemed half absent, being tweaked and tickled by memories.
‘Which one was English and which one was French?’
‘Oh yes, I could tell.’
‘How?’
‘How do you think?’
‘Smell of garlic?’
He chuckled. ‘No. They both wore scent as a matter of fact. Quite strong scent. Not the same, of course.’
‘So … they did different things? Or was it the way they did it?’
‘Trade secret.’ Now he was beginning to look smug again.
‘Come off it, Uncle Freddy.’
‘Always made it a rule never to snitch on my lady friends.’
‘Uncle Freddy, you never set eyes on them. They were provided for you. They weren’t your lady friends.’
‘They were to me. Both of them. That’s what they felt like. That’s what I’ve always considered them.’
This was exasperating, not least because I’d been drawn into giving credence to my uncle’s fantasy. And what was thepoint of inventing a story and then withdrawing the key facts?
‘But you can tell me, Uncle, because you told them.’
‘Them?’
‘The group. You reported to them the next day.’
‘Well, an Englishman’s word is his bond except when it isn’t. You’ve lived long enough to know that. And besides … the truth is I had a feeling, not so much the first time but more strongly the second, that I was being watched.’
‘Someone in the wardrobe?’
‘I don’t know. How, where. Just sensed it, somehow. It made me feel a bit grubby. And as I say, I made it a rule never to snitch on my lady friends. So I took the boat-train home the next day.’
Forgetting about the motor-rally, or the career in authentic wax polish, or whatever else it might have been.
‘And that’ , my uncle continued, ‘was the cleverest thing I ever did.’ He looked at me as if his whole story had been aimed at this moment. ‘Because that’s where I met your Aunt Kate. On the boat-train.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘No reason why you should. Engaged within the month, married within three.’
A busy spring indeed. ‘And what did she think of your adventure?’
His face shut down again. ‘Your Aunt Kate was as pure as driven snow. I’d no more have talked about that than … pick my teeth in public.’
‘You never told her?’
‘Never breathed a word. Anyway, imagine it from her side. She meets this likely fellow, gets a bit soft on him, asks what he’s been up to in Paris, and he tells her he’s beenknocking off lasses at the rate of one a day after promising to go
My uncle put down his whisky, set his head back and closed his eyes, closing them to remember something he had not in any case seen. Indulgently, I let him drag out the pause. At last he said, ‘And then the next day. Again. Raining again too.’
The gas-fire noisily held its breath, the ice-cubes trilled promptingly in my glass. But Uncle Freddy didn’t seem to want to continue. Or perhaps he’d really stopped. That wouldn’t do. It was - how shall I put it? - like narrative cock-teasing.
‘So?’
‘So,’ my uncle repeated softly. ‘Just so.’
We sat quietly for a minute or two until I couldn’t avoid the question. ‘And what was the difference?’
Uncle Freddy, head back and eyes still squeezed together, uttered a noise between a sigh and a whimper. Eventually he said, ‘ The French lass licked the raindrops from my face .’ He opened his eyes again, and showed me his tears.
I was strangely moved. I was also wearily suspicious, but this didn’t stop me being moved. The French lass licked the raindrops from my face. I gave my uncle - whether plausible liar or sentimental remembrancer - the gift of my envy.
‘You could tell?’
‘Tell what?’ He seemed half absent, being tweaked and tickled by memories.
‘Which one was English and which one was French?’
‘Oh yes, I could tell.’
‘How?’
‘How do you think?’
‘Smell of garlic?’
He chuckled. ‘No. They both wore scent as a matter of fact. Quite strong scent. Not the same, of course.’
‘So … they did different things? Or was it the way they did it?’
‘Trade secret.’ Now he was beginning to look smug again.
‘Come off it, Uncle Freddy.’
‘Always made it a rule never to snitch on my lady friends.’
‘Uncle Freddy, you never set eyes on them. They were provided for you. They weren’t your lady friends.’
‘They were to me. Both of them. That’s what they felt like. That’s what I’ve always considered them.’
This was exasperating, not least because I’d been drawn into giving credence to my uncle’s fantasy. And what was thepoint of inventing a story and then withdrawing the key facts?
‘But you can tell me, Uncle, because you told them.’
‘Them?’
‘The group. You reported to them the next day.’
‘Well, an Englishman’s word is his bond except when it isn’t. You’ve lived long enough to know that. And besides … the truth is I had a feeling, not so much the first time but more strongly the second, that I was being watched.’
‘Someone in the wardrobe?’
‘I don’t know. How, where. Just sensed it, somehow. It made me feel a bit grubby. And as I say, I made it a rule never to snitch on my lady friends. So I took the boat-train home the next day.’
Forgetting about the motor-rally, or the career in authentic wax polish, or whatever else it might have been.
‘And that’ , my uncle continued, ‘was the cleverest thing I ever did.’ He looked at me as if his whole story had been aimed at this moment. ‘Because that’s where I met your Aunt Kate. On the boat-train.’
‘I never knew that.’
‘No reason why you should. Engaged within the month, married within three.’
A busy spring indeed. ‘And what did she think of your adventure?’
His face shut down again. ‘Your Aunt Kate was as pure as driven snow. I’d no more have talked about that than … pick my teeth in public.’
‘You never told her?’
‘Never breathed a word. Anyway, imagine it from her side. She meets this likely fellow, gets a bit soft on him, asks what he’s been up to in Paris, and he tells her he’s beenknocking off lasses at the rate of one a day after promising to go
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