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Authors: Barbara Pym
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Would you like me to cut your grass, Miss Ivory?' he asked, going to the fence. 'I've got the mower out' Though really, seeing its length, a scythe would be more appropriate.
'No, thank you,' said Marcia politely, 'I prefer the grass as it is,' and went into the house. She was still feeling annoyed with Letty about the milk bottle. There was certainly no question of her offering Letty a room in her house now; that was not at all the sort of person one wanted under the same roof.
That evening Letty crouched in her room, listening. It wasn't even a rowdy party, these bursts of hymn-singing and joyful shouts, for Mr Olatunde, her new landlord, was a priest of a religious sect. 'Aladura,' Miss Embrey had murmured, but the name meant nothing, only the coming and going in the house and the noise. Now perhaps Letty really did feel like a drowning man, with the events of her past life unrolling before her, those particular events which had led her to this. How had it come about that she, an Englishwoman born in Malvern in 1914 of middle-class English parents, should find herself in this room in London surrounded by enthusiastic, shouting, hymn-singing Nigerians? It must surely be because she had not married. No man had taken her away and immured her in some comfortable suburb where hymn-singing was confined to Sundays and nobody was fired with enthusiasm. Why had this not happened? Because she had thought that love was a necessary ingredient for marriage? Now, having looked around her for forty years, she was not so sure. All those years wasted, looking for love! The thought of it was enough to bring about silence in the house and during the lull she plucked up the courage to go downstairs and tap — too timidly, she felt — at Mr Olatunde's door.
'I wonder if you could make a little less noise?' she asked. 'Some of us find it rather disturbing.'
'Christianity is disturbing,' said Mr Olatunde.
It was difficult to know how to answer this. Indeed Letty found it impossible so Mr Olatunde continued, smiling, 'You are a Christian lady?'
Letty hesitated. Her first instinct had been to say 'yes', for of course one was a Christian lady, even if one would not have put it quite like that. How was she to explain to this vital, ebullient black man her own blend of Christianity — a grey, formal, respectable thing of measured observances and mild general undemanding kindness to all? 'I'm sorry,' she said, drawing back, 'I didn't mean...' What had she meant? Confronted by these smiling people she felt she could hardly repeat her complaint about the noise.
A handsome woman in a long brightly coloured dress and head tie stepped forward. 'We are having supper now,' she said. 'You will join us?'
Letty was reminded of Norman as a rich spicy smell was wafted towards her. She thanked the woman politely, saying that she had already eaten.
'I'm afraid you would not like our Nigerian cooking,' said Mr Olatunde, with a touch of complacency.
'No, perhaps not.' Letty withdrew, embarrassed by the crowd of smiling faces that seemed to be pressing in on her. We are not the same, she thought hopelessly. She wondered what Edwin and Norman and Marcia would have done in the circumstances, but came to no conclusions. Other people's reactions were unpredictable and while she could imagine Edwin entering into the religious aspect of the evening and even taking part in the service, it might well be that Norman and Marcia, usually so set in their isolation, would in some surprising way have been drawn into the friendly group. Only Letty remained outside.
Eight
T HERE HAD ALREADY been a good deal of talk in the office about Letty's situation and what she ought to do about it, and as time went on the question became more urgent, especially when Marya found a living-in job as housekeeper to a family in Hampstead, and Miss Spurgeon made arrangements to go into an old people's home.
'You'll be alone in the house now,' said Norman gleefully. 'It'll
Would you like me to cut your grass, Miss Ivory?' he asked, going to the fence. 'I've got the mower out' Though really, seeing its length, a scythe would be more appropriate.
'No, thank you,' said Marcia politely, 'I prefer the grass as it is,' and went into the house. She was still feeling annoyed with Letty about the milk bottle. There was certainly no question of her offering Letty a room in her house now; that was not at all the sort of person one wanted under the same roof.
That evening Letty crouched in her room, listening. It wasn't even a rowdy party, these bursts of hymn-singing and joyful shouts, for Mr Olatunde, her new landlord, was a priest of a religious sect. 'Aladura,' Miss Embrey had murmured, but the name meant nothing, only the coming and going in the house and the noise. Now perhaps Letty really did feel like a drowning man, with the events of her past life unrolling before her, those particular events which had led her to this. How had it come about that she, an Englishwoman born in Malvern in 1914 of middle-class English parents, should find herself in this room in London surrounded by enthusiastic, shouting, hymn-singing Nigerians? It must surely be because she had not married. No man had taken her away and immured her in some comfortable suburb where hymn-singing was confined to Sundays and nobody was fired with enthusiasm. Why had this not happened? Because she had thought that love was a necessary ingredient for marriage? Now, having looked around her for forty years, she was not so sure. All those years wasted, looking for love! The thought of it was enough to bring about silence in the house and during the lull she plucked up the courage to go downstairs and tap — too timidly, she felt — at Mr Olatunde's door.
'I wonder if you could make a little less noise?' she asked. 'Some of us find it rather disturbing.'
'Christianity is disturbing,' said Mr Olatunde.
It was difficult to know how to answer this. Indeed Letty found it impossible so Mr Olatunde continued, smiling, 'You are a Christian lady?'
Letty hesitated. Her first instinct had been to say 'yes', for of course one was a Christian lady, even if one would not have put it quite like that. How was she to explain to this vital, ebullient black man her own blend of Christianity — a grey, formal, respectable thing of measured observances and mild general undemanding kindness to all? 'I'm sorry,' she said, drawing back, 'I didn't mean...' What had she meant? Confronted by these smiling people she felt she could hardly repeat her complaint about the noise.
A handsome woman in a long brightly coloured dress and head tie stepped forward. 'We are having supper now,' she said. 'You will join us?'
Letty was reminded of Norman as a rich spicy smell was wafted towards her. She thanked the woman politely, saying that she had already eaten.
'I'm afraid you would not like our Nigerian cooking,' said Mr Olatunde, with a touch of complacency.
'No, perhaps not.' Letty withdrew, embarrassed by the crowd of smiling faces that seemed to be pressing in on her. We are not the same, she thought hopelessly. She wondered what Edwin and Norman and Marcia would have done in the circumstances, but came to no conclusions. Other people's reactions were unpredictable and while she could imagine Edwin entering into the religious aspect of the evening and even taking part in the service, it might well be that Norman and Marcia, usually so set in their isolation, would in some surprising way have been drawn into the friendly group. Only Letty remained outside.
Eight
T HERE HAD ALREADY been a good deal of talk in the office about Letty's situation and what she ought to do about it, and as time went on the question became more urgent, especially when Marya found a living-in job as housekeeper to a family in Hampstead, and Miss Spurgeon made arrangements to go into an old people's home.
'You'll be alone in the house now,' said Norman gleefully. 'It'll
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