Read Online It Ends with Revelations by Dodie Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dodie Smith
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think it’s intended to be worn. Don’t you admire it in its own right?’
He studied it critically. ‘Yes, the line’s beautiful and it’s very well made. Shall we go in and look at some others? Though I don’t really like you in hats; your hair’s too decorative to cover. And I wouldn’t say Geoffrey Thornton’s grandmother’s milliner would be ideal for you.’
She laughed. ‘And if I go in, I shall feel I have to buy something. So let’s just leave it.’
‘Perhaps we shall see something else.’
As they walked along Spa Street he suggested various purchases but there was nothing she wanted; and when he lingered by a jeweller’s window she very firmly led him on. She then showed him the Pump Room and they wandered round various squares and crescents, but none of them seemed as impressive as Queen’s Crescent. ‘That had the advantage of moonlight,’ said Miles, ‘which reminds me, Peter’s thinking of changing the lighting for the end of Act II.’
His mind had swung back to the play and Jill soon sawthat he was no longer interested in exploring. And it would be more comfortable to talk if not walking. She said, ‘Let’s get back to the hotel. They’re going to give us a sort of high tea. We can have supper after the show.’
The theatre was so full that night that she and Peter Hesper had to stand at the back of the dress circle. She found this tiring but nevertheless enjoyed the play more than on the first night. She was less anxious and could now take a more technical, professional interest, noting slightly different audience reactions to various scenes. Sometimes she rested, by sitting in an alcove from which she could hear, but not see the stage. This was, she knew, the acid test for dialogue and she didn’t think the dialogue stood up to it; but the audience was held.
So it was when she saw the show again next day. It seemed more and more a pity that cuts and changes were to be made.
These were to be rehearsed on Thursday morning. After seeing Miles off to the theatre she joined Robin and Kit in the hotel lounge, prepared to be taken to see the New Town.
‘We’re all taking you,’ said Robin. ‘Father’s gone to get the car.’
‘It’s our great-grandmother’s 1937 Rolls-Royce,’ said Kit. ‘Father keeps it here at the hotel. We think of it rather like a retired race horse. Old horses like to be visited and old cars like to be driven.’
‘Not that it’s old enough to be funny,’ said Robin. ‘In fact, we think it’s beautiful.’
Jill, when she went out to the car, thought it the most beautiful she had ever seen. It was a silver-grey Sedanca de Ville, the lines of its elegant, clean-cut coachwork surprisingly modern in spite of the car’s height. Paint, chromium and upholstery seemed still to be in perfect condition.
Geoffrey Thornton, helping Jill in to the front, said, ‘My grandmother had the body specially built for her, and travelled up to London twice to see how the work was going on. I remember going with her when I was about twelve.’ He went round to get in beside Jill. The girls, at the back, drew her attention to the small glass-topped tables that could be pulled down for picnic meals, and to the little cupboards with mirrors inside, where lights went on when the doors were opened.
‘And the glass screen between the front and the back goes up and down when you press the button,’ said Kit. She demon strated this, then added, ‘I must say it’s a terribly class-conscious car. Before the war, I understand, our great-grandmother sat in the back, here, with her pekinese, completely protected from the weather, while her chauffeur and maid sat in front, utterly exposed.’
‘They could shut the top if they wanted to,’ said Thornton, ‘but they seldom did unless it poured with rain. The chauffeur, who adored the car, thought it looked smarter with the front open – as it does. But please say, if you find it too draughty. It closes easily, and then
He studied it critically. ‘Yes, the line’s beautiful and it’s very well made. Shall we go in and look at some others? Though I don’t really like you in hats; your hair’s too decorative to cover. And I wouldn’t say Geoffrey Thornton’s grandmother’s milliner would be ideal for you.’
She laughed. ‘And if I go in, I shall feel I have to buy something. So let’s just leave it.’
‘Perhaps we shall see something else.’
As they walked along Spa Street he suggested various purchases but there was nothing she wanted; and when he lingered by a jeweller’s window she very firmly led him on. She then showed him the Pump Room and they wandered round various squares and crescents, but none of them seemed as impressive as Queen’s Crescent. ‘That had the advantage of moonlight,’ said Miles, ‘which reminds me, Peter’s thinking of changing the lighting for the end of Act II.’
His mind had swung back to the play and Jill soon sawthat he was no longer interested in exploring. And it would be more comfortable to talk if not walking. She said, ‘Let’s get back to the hotel. They’re going to give us a sort of high tea. We can have supper after the show.’
The theatre was so full that night that she and Peter Hesper had to stand at the back of the dress circle. She found this tiring but nevertheless enjoyed the play more than on the first night. She was less anxious and could now take a more technical, professional interest, noting slightly different audience reactions to various scenes. Sometimes she rested, by sitting in an alcove from which she could hear, but not see the stage. This was, she knew, the acid test for dialogue and she didn’t think the dialogue stood up to it; but the audience was held.
So it was when she saw the show again next day. It seemed more and more a pity that cuts and changes were to be made.
These were to be rehearsed on Thursday morning. After seeing Miles off to the theatre she joined Robin and Kit in the hotel lounge, prepared to be taken to see the New Town.
‘We’re all taking you,’ said Robin. ‘Father’s gone to get the car.’
‘It’s our great-grandmother’s 1937 Rolls-Royce,’ said Kit. ‘Father keeps it here at the hotel. We think of it rather like a retired race horse. Old horses like to be visited and old cars like to be driven.’
‘Not that it’s old enough to be funny,’ said Robin. ‘In fact, we think it’s beautiful.’
Jill, when she went out to the car, thought it the most beautiful she had ever seen. It was a silver-grey Sedanca de Ville, the lines of its elegant, clean-cut coachwork surprisingly modern in spite of the car’s height. Paint, chromium and upholstery seemed still to be in perfect condition.
Geoffrey Thornton, helping Jill in to the front, said, ‘My grandmother had the body specially built for her, and travelled up to London twice to see how the work was going on. I remember going with her when I was about twelve.’ He went round to get in beside Jill. The girls, at the back, drew her attention to the small glass-topped tables that could be pulled down for picnic meals, and to the little cupboards with mirrors inside, where lights went on when the doors were opened.
‘And the glass screen between the front and the back goes up and down when you press the button,’ said Kit. She demon strated this, then added, ‘I must say it’s a terribly class-conscious car. Before the war, I understand, our great-grandmother sat in the back, here, with her pekinese, completely protected from the weather, while her chauffeur and maid sat in front, utterly exposed.’
‘They could shut the top if they wanted to,’ said Thornton, ‘but they seldom did unless it poured with rain. The chauffeur, who adored the car, thought it looked smarter with the front open – as it does. But please say, if you find it too draughty. It closes easily, and then
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