Theatre Page 0,53
we're back in London again. I mustn't show how miserable I am. I must pretend it's all right.")
"A snip having this spell of fine weather," said Michael. "Tom's been a success, hasn't he? Pity he can't stay another week."
"Yes, a terrible pity."
"I think he's a nice friend for Roger to have. A thoroughly normal, clean-minded English boy."
"Oh, thoroughly." ("Bloody fool, bloody fool")
"To see the way they eat is a fair treat."
"Yes, they seem to have enjoyed their food." ("My God, I wish it could have choked them.")
Tom was to go up to town by an early train on Monday morning. The Dexters, who had a house at Bourne End, had asked them all to lunch on Sunday. They were to go down, in the launch. Now that Tom's holiday was nearly over Julia was glad that she had never by so much as a lifted eyebrow betrayed her irritation. She was certain that he had no notion how deeply he had wounded her. After all she must be tolerant, he was only a boy, and if you must cross your t's,* she was old enough to be his mother. It was a bore that she had a thing about him, but there it was, she couldn't help it; she had told herself from the beginning that she must never let him feel that she had any claims on him. No one was coming to dinner on Sunday. She would have liked to have Tom to herself on his last evening; that was impossible, but at all events they could go for a stroll by themselves in the garden.
"I wonder if he's noticed that he hasn't kissed me since he came here?"
They might go out in the punt. It would be heavenly to lie in his arms for a few minutes; it would make up for everything.
The Dexters' party was theatrical. Grace Hardwill, Archie's wife, played in musical comedy, and there was a bevy of pretty girls who danced in the piece in which she was then appearing. Julia acted with great naturalness the part of a leading lady who put on no frills. She was charming to the young ladies, with their waved platinum hair, who earned three pounds a week in the chorus. A good many of the guests had brought kodaks and she submitted with affability to being photographed. She applauded enthusiastically when Grace Hardwill sang her famous song to the accompaniment of the composer. She laughed as heartily as anyone when the comic woman did an imitation of her in one of her best-known parts. It was all very gay, rather rowdy, and agreeably light-hearted. Julia enjoyed herself, but when it was seven o'clock was not sorry to go. She was thanking her hosts effusively for the pleasant party when Roger came up to her.
"I say, mum, there's a whole crowd going on to Maidenhead to dine and dance, and they want Tom and me to go too. You don't mind, do you?"
The blood rushed to her cheeks. She could not help answering rather sharply.
"How are you to get back?"
"Oh, that'll be all right. We'll get someone to drop us."
She looked at him helplessly. She could not think what to say.
"It's going to be a tremendous lark. Tom's crazy to go."
Her heart sank. It was with the greatest difficulty that she managed not to make a scene. But she controlled herself.
"All right, darling. But don't be too late. Remember that Tom's got to rise with the lark."
Tom had come up and heard the last words.
"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked.
"Of course not. I hope you'll have a grand time."
She smiled brightly at him, but her eyes were steely with hatred.
"I'm just as glad those two kids have gone off," said Michael when they got into the launch. "We haven't had an evening to ourselves for ever so long."
She clenched her hands in order to prevent herself from telling him to hold his silly tongue. She was in a black rage. This was the last straw. Tom had neglected her for a fortnight, he had not even treated her with civility, and she had been angelic. There wasn't a woman in the world who would have shown such patience. Any other woman would have told him that if he couldn't behave with common decency he'd better get out. Selfish, stupid and common, that's what he was. She almost wished he wasn't going tomorrow so that she could have the pleasure of turning him out bag and baggage.