Read Online Past Imperfect by Julian Fellowes - Free Book Online
Authors: Julian Fellowes
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Fiction - General, England, London, London (England), Nineteen sixties, English Contemporary Fiction - Individual Authors, London (England) - Social life and customs - 20th century, Upper class - England - London, Upper Class
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trace, like the hanging gardens of Nineveh.
It is more beautiful today, its ponds and waterfalls and glades restored, than when I first walked there, clutching the hand of an aunt or a nanny and begging to be allowed one more ride before we went home, but it is not more beautiful to me. Nor am I alone in this rose-tinted memory and, in fact, nostalgia was already beginning to envelop the place by 1968 as we, the children who had felt sick from too much candy floss when the fair was at its height, were now in our late teens and early twenties, and for this reason it was a clever choice by Mrs Waddilove as a venue for her party. Georgina, as I have said, was not popular and she might easily have had to endure the humiliation of a sparsely attended gathering had it been held in one of the Park Lane hotels or in the coffee room of her father's club, when half the guest list might easily have chucked. The casualness of the young, as they abandon their social commitments for something more recent and more enticing, was horrible to adults then. These days parents are inclined to shrug and roll their eyes at their children's unreliability, but not to take it very seriously. I don't suggest the phenomenon is new, chucking, dodging, gatecrashing and the rest, but in 1968 nobody saw the funny side. However, on this occasion Battersea Fun Fair appealed and everyone turned up.
I was quite late arriving, as it happens, so the hubbub of chatter was what guided me through the fair and past the stalls, until I came to a temporary white-painted wicket fence, where two officials guarded the entrance and a large card on a blackboard stand announced that the Dodgems were 'closed for a private party.' This ensured some glares from would-be customers, which Georgina's guests affected to ignore, but these disgruntled few did not spoil things. Whatever they may pretend, the privileged classes, then and now, enjoy a bit of envy.
Some of the girls were already in the cars, shrieking and laughing and spilling their wine, as their boyfriends-for-the-night posed and preened, banging and whacking into the cars of others. Nowadays there would be signs requesting that glasses should not be taken on to the track, or there would only have been plastic cups anyway, but I do not recall anyone concerning themselves with such things as slippery surfaces or broken glass. There must have been plenty of both. A marquee with an open side had been erected to accommodate the other guests who were already well away. I looked round for Georgina, hoping to find her at the centre of a grateful crowd, but as usual she was standing alone and silent near the champagne table, so I saw the chance to fetch a drink and simultaneously greet my hostess, killing two birds with one stone.
'Hello,' I said. 'This all seems to be satisfactorily rowdy.'
She smiled wanly. 'Are you going to have a go?'
'Oh, I think so.' I smiled gamely. 'What about you?' But she did not seem to hear my question, her eyes fixed on the track itself, and I could now make out a car with the distinctive figure of Damian crouched over the controls. His co-pilot appeared, from a distance anyway, to be rather an unlikely one. Her face was almost concealed by a curtain of curls, but I could see how calm she was, and unattached. She did not shout like the others, but merely sat there, like some stately princess forced to endure the indignity of a peasant's ferry in order to get to the other side.
Georgina turned. 'What's your dinner in aid of?'
I was nonplussed. 'What dinner?'
'Tonight. Damian said he couldn't come to the Ritz with us because he'd pledged himself to you.'
I realised at once the significance of this, that poor Georgina had already fulfilled her function in Damian's life by getting him started and could now be dispensed with. The doomed girl had yielded to his flattery and friendly charm, and opened the door for him into this world, but now, having gained entry, he had no compunction in
It is more beautiful today, its ponds and waterfalls and glades restored, than when I first walked there, clutching the hand of an aunt or a nanny and begging to be allowed one more ride before we went home, but it is not more beautiful to me. Nor am I alone in this rose-tinted memory and, in fact, nostalgia was already beginning to envelop the place by 1968 as we, the children who had felt sick from too much candy floss when the fair was at its height, were now in our late teens and early twenties, and for this reason it was a clever choice by Mrs Waddilove as a venue for her party. Georgina, as I have said, was not popular and she might easily have had to endure the humiliation of a sparsely attended gathering had it been held in one of the Park Lane hotels or in the coffee room of her father's club, when half the guest list might easily have chucked. The casualness of the young, as they abandon their social commitments for something more recent and more enticing, was horrible to adults then. These days parents are inclined to shrug and roll their eyes at their children's unreliability, but not to take it very seriously. I don't suggest the phenomenon is new, chucking, dodging, gatecrashing and the rest, but in 1968 nobody saw the funny side. However, on this occasion Battersea Fun Fair appealed and everyone turned up.
I was quite late arriving, as it happens, so the hubbub of chatter was what guided me through the fair and past the stalls, until I came to a temporary white-painted wicket fence, where two officials guarded the entrance and a large card on a blackboard stand announced that the Dodgems were 'closed for a private party.' This ensured some glares from would-be customers, which Georgina's guests affected to ignore, but these disgruntled few did not spoil things. Whatever they may pretend, the privileged classes, then and now, enjoy a bit of envy.
Some of the girls were already in the cars, shrieking and laughing and spilling their wine, as their boyfriends-for-the-night posed and preened, banging and whacking into the cars of others. Nowadays there would be signs requesting that glasses should not be taken on to the track, or there would only have been plastic cups anyway, but I do not recall anyone concerning themselves with such things as slippery surfaces or broken glass. There must have been plenty of both. A marquee with an open side had been erected to accommodate the other guests who were already well away. I looked round for Georgina, hoping to find her at the centre of a grateful crowd, but as usual she was standing alone and silent near the champagne table, so I saw the chance to fetch a drink and simultaneously greet my hostess, killing two birds with one stone.
'Hello,' I said. 'This all seems to be satisfactorily rowdy.'
She smiled wanly. 'Are you going to have a go?'
'Oh, I think so.' I smiled gamely. 'What about you?' But she did not seem to hear my question, her eyes fixed on the track itself, and I could now make out a car with the distinctive figure of Damian crouched over the controls. His co-pilot appeared, from a distance anyway, to be rather an unlikely one. Her face was almost concealed by a curtain of curls, but I could see how calm she was, and unattached. She did not shout like the others, but merely sat there, like some stately princess forced to endure the indignity of a peasant's ferry in order to get to the other side.
Georgina turned. 'What's your dinner in aid of?'
I was nonplussed. 'What dinner?'
'Tonight. Damian said he couldn't come to the Ritz with us because he'd pledged himself to you.'
I realised at once the significance of this, that poor Georgina had already fulfilled her function in Damian's life by getting him started and could now be dispensed with. The doomed girl had yielded to his flattery and friendly charm, and opened the door for him into this world, but now, having gained entry, he had no compunction in
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