The Remains of the Day - By Kazuo Ishiguro Page 0,81

gentleman in question went on gazing at me for a moment without changing the somewhat languid posture he had adopted in his armchair. Then he said:

‘My good man, I have a question for you. We need your help on a certain matter we’ve been debating. Tell me, do you suppose the debt situation regarding America is a significant factor in the present low levels of trade? Or do you suppose this is a red herring and that the abandonment of the gold standard is at the root of the matter?’

I was naturally a little surprised by this, but then quickly saw the situation for what it was; that is to say, it was clearly expected that I be baffled by the question. Indeed, in the moment or so that it took for me to perceive this and compose a suitable response, I may even have given the outward impression of struggling with the question, for I saw the gentlemen in the room exchange mirthful smiles.

‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ I said, ‘but I am unable to be of assistance on this matter.’

I was by this point well on top of the situation, but the gentlemen went on laughing covertly. Then Mr Spencer said:

‘Then perhaps you will help us on another matter. Would you say that the currency problem in Europe would be made better or worse if there were to be an arms agreement between the French and the Bolsheviks?’

‘I’m very sorry, sir, but I am unable to be of assistance on this matter.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Spencer. ‘So you can’t help us here either.’

There was more suppressed laughter before his lordship said: ‘Very well, Stevens. That will be all.’

‘Please, Darlington, I have one more question to put to our good man here,’ Mr Spencer said. ‘I very much wanted his help on the question presently vexing many of us, and which we all realize is crucial to how we should shape our foreign policy. My good fellow, please come to our assistance. What was M. Laval really intending, by his recent speech on the situation in North Africa? Are you also of the view that it was simply a ruse to scupper the nationalist fringe of his own domestic party?’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I am unable to assist in this matter.’

‘You see, gentlemen,’ Mr Spencer said, turning to the others, ‘our man is unable to assist us in these matters.’

This brought fresh laughter, now barely suppressed.

‘And yet,’ Mr Spencer went on, ‘we still persist with the notion that this nation’s decisions be left in the hands of our good man here and to the few million others like him. Is it any wonder, saddled as we are with our present parliamentary system, that we are unable to find any solution to our many difficulties? Why, you may as well ask a committee of the mothers’ union to organize a war campaign.’

There was open, hearty laughter at this remark, during which his lordship muttered: ‘Thank you, Stevens,’ thus enabling me to take my leave.

While of course this was a slightly uncomfortable situation, it was hardly the most difficult, or even an especially unusual one to encounter in the course of one’s duties, and you will no doubt agree that any decent professional should expect to take such events in his stride. I had, then, all but forgotten the episode by the following morning, when Lord Darlington came into the billiard room while I was up on a step-ladder dusting portraits, and said:

‘Look here, Stevens, it was dreadful. The ordeal we put you through last night.’

I paused in what I was doing and said: ‘Not at all, sir. I was only too happy to be of service.’

‘It was quite dreadful. We’d all had rather too good a dinner, I fancy. Please accept my apologies.’

‘Thank you, sir. But I am happy to assure you I was not unduly inconvenienced.’

His lordship walked over rather wearily to a leather armchair, seated himself and sighed. From my vantage point up on my ladder, I could see practically the whole of his long figure caught in the winter sunshine pouring in through the french windows and streaking much of the room. It was, as I recall it, one of those moments that brought home how much the pressures of life had taken their toll on his lordship over a relatively small number of years. His frame, always slender, had become alarmingly thin and somewhat misshapen, his hair prematurely white, his face strained and haggard. For a while,