Read Online Saturn Over the Water by J. B. Priestley, J.B. Priestley - Free Book Online Page A

tell him I’m on my way there. Make it clear I’m not trying to sell any pictures, but tell him I might like to do some sketches of the Institute as well as of the coast round there. Not oils of course – the gear’s too heavy – but I’ve brought a gouache outfit with me, light and easy to carry.’
    ‘What for?’ Sam snorted with disgust. ‘This is New York, son. We’ve everything you have in London – only more so. We sell gouache setups here.’
    ‘Not on Saturday nights and Sundays, I’ll bet you don’t.’
    Sam banged me on the knee. ‘You win, you Limey dauber! And to prove there’s no ill-feeling, I’ll write and mail that letter about you as soon as we’re home. And now – look at that, Timmy boy – just take your first look at it.’ The towers of Manhattan were shining through the snowflakes and the wintry gloom. After I had marvelled at them, he went on: ‘Half the time I think it’s all running down like a clock that nobody knows how to wind up. When it isn’t sour, it’s hysterical, just waiting for the biggest goddam bomb in the world – might be ours and not theirs – to bring it all down for ever. There’s hardly any sense, civility, or service, any more. But what a city for a lot of mongrel bastards and misfits to have put up in under fifty years! Look at the midtown section coming up now! By God – there’s been nothing like it since the Tower of Babel. And I wouldn’t live anywhere else, not if you offered me free gratis and for nothing Buckingham Palace and all the châteaux on the Loire.’
    After he’d shown me where I was sleeping and I’d shown him the two canvases I’d brought over with me and we’d arranged to have them stretched and framed, he gave me a bourbon on the rocks, left me to unpack, and went down to his office on the floor below to write that letter to Arnaldos. But he came back to ask me where I was staying in Lima, so that the old man would know where to find me.
    ‘I don’t know, Sam,’ I said. ‘I’ll go to the British Embassy and tell ’em I’m around, and he can send me a message there.’
    ‘You’ll have to call for it at the tradesmen’s entrance. And say – listen – after I’ve mailed this letter, I’m doing the dinner. Steak, the best – big baked potatoes, a green salad, a piece of Roquefort – and a bottle of Chambertin – how’s that, cher maître? ’
    ‘It sounds wonderful, Sam.’ And if it wasn’t quite that, it was certainly very good, for Sam, like most people who enjoy good painting, could enjoy good food too. Then when we’d had a touch of Armagnac, and he’d lit a cigar and I’d started my pipe, he said: ‘We can stay here and talk about pictures, Tim, or we can go out. Not on the town, not on Saturday night. But I’ve a niece – she’s called Jill Dayson now – and she’s married into the Madison Avenue agency racket. They’re throwing a party tonight – no dressing up – and we’re both invited. It’s up to you, fella. But if you want to find out what kind of people we have around here, I’d say let’s go. Okay? Fine! I’ll even give you a latchkey so that if you get entangled with one of these gorgeous Madison Avenue women – or it might be Fifth or Park, there’ll be a wide selection – you needn’t leave her too soon.’
    ‘I’ll take it, Sam. Just in case you’re the one and I want to come home.’
    ‘Not any more, boy. Not at my age and weight – sixty-three and two hundred and twelve pounds. But I still like to look them over. And as for you, you’ll be drooling, boy. We have the best-looking women the world’s ever seen – and the most expensive – and the most dissatisfied. They’re the better-looking half of what’s the matter with us. Okay then – let’s go.’
    His niece, a sumptuous Old Testament brunette, seemed genuinely glad to see us, though their apartment, a large one, all modern Swedish furniture and phoney abstract art, was already fairly crowded. Her