Page 14 of The Girl in a Swing

long, but it couldn't be helped, could it? How are things

  going?'

  'Well, Mrs Taswell's been poorly, dear, and that put us in

  a bit of a fix, but Deirdre brought her cousin along to fill the

  gap - no experience, of course, but a good-hearted little thing

  and much better than no one. And that nice Mr Steinberg

  from Philadelphia called - he was so sorry to miss you - I

  told him you'd be back soon and he wants you to telephone

  him. It's about the Dr Wall punchbowl he asked you to find

  for him.'

  '- So that's the news from this end, Flick. You'll bring Angela

  up for the wedding, won't you? I don't think she's too little

  to be a bridesmaid, do you? I mean, she's getting on for

  five, she'll look so pretty -'

  'Yes, of course we will, Alan. Tell me, how's Mummy

  taken it? Is she pleased?'

  'Yes, she says she's delighted. I must say, she did rather

  put me through the hoop about Kathe - you know, who were

  her parents, where did she live and all that -'

  'Well, Alan, those are rather the sort of things mothers

  want to know, don't you think?'

  'Well, yes, I suppose so, but after all they don't really

  matter -'

  'Not to you, no; that's perfectly understandable. You're in

  love with her. But Mum's not in love with her, so she's got

  a different approach and she's entitled to ask questions.'

  'Yes, of course. But hardly to sort of check her out -'

  'Yes, Alan, yes! Just that. The role of the protagonists and

  the r61e of the family are two completely different things.

  Bear with me while I develop this brilliant concept for your

  good, my lad. When two people fall in love, that's personal

  to them and no business of anybody else. Parents and relatives

  aren't entitled to say "I wouldn't fall in love with

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  that person". They aren't even entitled to say "I don't particularly

  like that person. I can't see anything special about

  her." They're not required to. But, Alan, they are entitled

  to be satisfied that the person is of good character and good

  family - not a nutter - never been in any sort of trouble or

  disgrace and so on - and who the family are. In fact, I'd

  say that in that respect they'd almost got a responsibility.

  Apart from anything else - their affection for their own protagonist

  and all that - they're often being called upon to

  receive a total stranger into their family. Mum's not pushing

  you around at all; she's simply fulfilling her proper function.

  She'd just like to know a bit more about Kathe's background;

  come to that, so would I. But that doesn't mean we aren't

  going to like her or wish you both all the happiness in the

  world.'

  'Well, when you put it like that, Flick, I must say it

  sounds reasonable; and I'm sure everything will be made

  crystal-clear at the first opportunity. But you do realize that

  this isn't quite the same as happening to come upon the girl

  you want to marry in Newbury, or even in England? I mean,

  what with her being in Copenhagen and my not being able

  to stay there indefinitely, we couldn't really get down to

  minor details. There'll be plenty of time later to fill in Mum's

  questionnaire.'

  'D'you happen to know why Kathe's coming over here to

  get married?"

  'No, not really, but it suits us all very well, doesn't it?

  Much less trouble and expense.'

  'Have you mentioned it to the Rev. Tony yet? (Wait a

  minute, Angela darling! Mummy's talking to Uncle Alan.)'

  'I'm popping round there for an ecclesiastical noggin on

  Saturday evening. But I've told him already on the 'phone

  and he says he'll be delighted to do his stuff.'

  'He is a nice chap! I've often missed him and thought

  how lucky you are still to have him. Well, I'm very happy

  about it all, Alan, and I'm greatly looking forward to meeting

  Kathe. Now you'll have to say good-night to Angela,

  otherwise there'll be no peace. Come on, Angela, here's

  Uncle Alan.'

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  'Hullo, Angela. How's blue Teddy? Oh, dropped him in

  the bath, did you? Did he sink? Oh, he walked all the way

  out along the bottom? That was clever-'

  ' 'Morning, Deirdre. I'm told you had a few little problems

  while I was away, and you coped with them marvellously.

  But then I might have known you would.'

  'Well, just a few, Mistralan. Nothin' what I couldn't 'andle,

  like.'

  'Well, I think you deserve a little extra, and it'll be in your

  envelope this evening. I'm very grateful.'

  'Oh, that's nice of you, Mistralan. Not that I really done

  anythin' special.'

  'Well, for a start, I think it was very bright of you to think

  of getting your cousin Gladys to come and give us a hand

  while Mrs Taswell was away. And I suppose you had to

  teach her everything. How did she pick it up?'

  'Cor, Mistralan, wants 'itt'n on the 'ead 'eavy 'ammer. I

  bin on at 'er 'alf hour at a time.'

  'Well, there you are. You did a lot extra.'

  'That right you're gett'n married, then, Mistralan?'

  'It is indeed, Deirdre. Quite soon, too. I'm looking forward

  to seeing you and Gladys at the wedding.'

  'Mrs Desland was sayin' as your intended's comin' over

  'ere.'

  'Yes, from Copenhagen. She's very anxious to see the shop

  and meet you all.'

  'That right she's German?'

  'Yes, she is.'

  'My dad don't like the Germans. 'E don't 'alf get on about

  it sometimes.'

  'Well, the war's been over a long time now. I'm sure he'd

  like this lady if he met her, and I hope he will.'

  'Bit sudden, wasn't it, Mistralan? Kind of a quick decision,

  like?'

  'You wait, Deirdre. You'll know all right when it hits you.

  But look, why don't you just take me round now and tell me

  what's been happening, and anything you think needs seeing

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  to? You say we sold the blue-and-white tureen to Mrs

  Baxendale? -'

  'Personal call for Mr Alan Desland.'

  'Fine, carry on.'

  'Is that Mr Alan Desland speaking?'

  'Yes, it is.'

  'Fraulein Geutner is calling you from Copenhagen and

  wishes you to pay for the call.'

  'Yes, certainly. Put her through, please.'

  'Alan?'

  'Kathe! Oh, Kathe, how are you, darling? Is everything

  all right?'

  'Yes; dock, }a How should it not be? For the rest of life

  everything is just fine. Alan, dearest, how is your mother?

  What did she say when you told her?'

  'Well, I think she was a bit startled to begin with, naturally,

  but she's awfully pleased about it and simply longing

  to meet you.'

  'And all the china ladies and gentlemen?'

  'They say you're the porcelain of humankind.'

  'What?'

  'A dainty rogue in porcelain. It's all right, I'm only talking

  nonsense because I'm so happy. The business is fine, darling,

  and everything's just as it should be, except that you're
>
  in K0benhavn and I'm in England.'

  Til see you very quickly now, Alan, and we can be married

  as soon as you're able to arrange it.'

  'How splendid! When do you want me to come over for

  you?'

  'You need not. I will arrive at Heathrow on Monday evening.'

  'What - you mean this Monday evening? Three days from

  now?'

  'Yes. It's Flight BA 639 and it arrives at quarter past ten.'

  'Good Lord! You mean you've settled everything and

  you're ready to leave? That seems terribly quick!'

  'You're not pleased?'

  120

  'Yes, of course I am: but you've taken my breath away! I

  never dreamt you could be ready so soon. Have you said

  good-bye to Mr Hansen?'

  'Yes, and to the Always 'bus.'

  'And Inge and her little girl?'

  'Yes, yes. Then you'll meet me, Lieber, on Monday evening?'

  'Of course I will; and I'll have somewhere for us to stay

  in London that night, as it's such a late arrival. Tell me,

  what did Hansen say when you told him we were getting

  married?'

  'Oh, I didn't tell him. Only that I was leaving.'

  'Oh, didn't you? Why not?'

  'Well, there's no need to be telling everything to everybody,

  is there? Alan, what about your sister -'

  We chatted on for several minutes, for I could not bear

  to bring the call to an end. When at length I had rung off,

  I remained sitting beside the telephone in a confusion of

  joy, surprise and excitement. Clearly, Kathe must be as eager

  and impatient to be with me as I with her. Indeed, it was

  evident that she could hardly wait to join me, could scarcely

  bide the time until we should be married. To anyone else any

  third party - this would no doubt seem natural enough.

  Girls who are going to be married not uncommonly feel like

  this. Yet to me it still seemed unbelievable; I was superstitiously

  afraid to credit that she could possibly love and long

  for me as I for her. Tears filled my eyes and after a few

  moments, seeking an outlet for my passionate sense of gratitude

  and happiness, I began murmuring, half aloud, the

  words of the general thanksgiving.

  '-give thee most humble and hearty thanks for all thy

  goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all men. We

  bless thee for our creation, preservation and all the blessings

  of this life; but above all, for thine inestimable love -'

  My mother, happening to come through the hall, not unnaturally

  asked what I thought I was doing; and at this I

  jumped up, laughing at the absurdity of my happiness, at her

  concern and the whole state of things in general, and told

  her the news.

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  'My goodness!' she said. 'You mean she's coming straight

  over - she's not going back again before the wedding?'

  'That's it!'

  'Well, she has got things settled up quickly! Were you

  expecting her as soon as this?'

  'No! No! No! No! I was expecting to have to go over

  and bring her back!'

  'Well, she obviously knows a trick worth two of that,

  doesn't she? And of course you're delighted, darling?'

  'I can hardly believe I'm going to see her again on Monday

  evening! It seems too good to be true. Will you come

  up to Heathrow with me and meet her off the 'plane?'

  'Well, it's a nice idea, but - no, I think not, dear; even

  though I'm very much looking forward to meeting her. It'll

  be much better for you to be there alone when she arrives.

  I mean, just put yourself in her place. You'll be doing a lot

  of that in future, so you might as well start getting in some

  practice. She'll have had all the business of leaving her job

  and clearing up and getting packed and so on, and then she'll

  arrive quite late at night and probably tired out, in a strange

  country, not feeling or looking her best. That's hardly how

  you'd want to meet your future mother-in-law for the first

  time, is it?'

  'Well, I see what you mean, Mummy. All right, I'll go by

  myself.'

  'Have you thought about arrangements, Alan? I mean,

  where she's going to stay and so on?'

  'Well, I think it'll be best if we stay in a hotel in London

  on Monday night, don't you? And Tuesday, too, perhaps.

  Then if she needs to get anything we can go shopping and

  so on, and I'll bring her down to meet you here on Wednesday

  - or even Thursday. There's no wild hurry, is there, as

  long as you can cope with the shop for just another day or

  two?'

  'Splendid, dear; but I really meant, where is she going to

  stay until the wedding? I mean, she can't very well stay

  here, can she? It would look a little odd. She'll need to stay

  somewhere else.'

  'I hadn't thought of that, Mummy, but of course you're

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  perfectly right. Let me think; and I'll go and fix us both a

  gin-and-tonic while I'm thinking.'

  When I came back with the drinks I said, 'I've got it! The

  simplicity of genius! I'll ask the Redwoods if they can have

  her. I know Tony's as shamefully hard up as all the clergy,

  but I know him and Freda so well that I'm sure I can persuade

  them into some suitable sort of P.G. arrangement. I

  think they'd love it, actually, and no one can possibly raise

  an eyebrow at that; I mean, if she's staying with the clergyman

  who's going to marry us. I'll put it to Freda and Tony

  when I see them tomorrow evening. What d'you think?'

  'I think that will do very well, dear, as long as they've got

  a room and can manage it and it's no bother to Freda. A

  girl's less trouble than a man, as a rule. And I suppose you'll

  put up the banns next Sunday, will you?'

  'You bet I will! And that means we can be married in less

  than four weeks from now. Hands to dance and skylark!'

  'Well, it will be nice. But the invitations, Alan - all the

  arrangements! It's terribly short notice, isn't it? I feel quite

  - quite, well, put on the spot, I suppose you'd say: but I'm

  certainly not complaining. I wonder whether Flick might be

  able to come up a day or two early and lend me a hand? I'll

  ring her later on this evening. But let's just talk about it all

  for a bit first, shall we, and see what needs to be done? Get

  that pad thing out of the bureau, dear, so that we can make

  a list.'

  We talked about it for three quarters of an hour. At length

  my mother said, 'Well, if General Montgomery could have

  done any better than that, I'd have liked to see him try. I

  feel much more settled. I'm going to enjoy it enormously.

  Now let's ring dear Flick and see whether she can think of

  anything we've forgotten."

  123

  12

  As it happened, Kathe's was not the only long-distance call

  I received that evening.

  Little pleasure as I have ever been able to take in modern

  technology - despite being, like everyone else, an involuntary

  beneficiary - I have always felt grateful for the longdistance

  telephone, a
nd have often wondered what Socrates

  or Leonardo would have thought of a device which can single

  out a chosen individual thousands of miles away. ('Socrates?

  Alkibiades here. Look, I'm up at Bisanthe...') In fact, I

  once made up a clerihew about it.

  Prospero

  Had nothing on the G.P.O.,

  Which can link maidens and youths

  From here to the still-vexed Bermoothes.

  But this by the way - except to explain why, after all the

  activity of the evening, I was not in the least put out when

  at eleven o'clock the telephone rang once more and brought

  forth the voice of Mr Morgan Steinberg of Philadelphia.

  I liked Mr Steinberg. Like most English people, I tend to

  be a shade troubled by Americans en masse, together with all

  gear, tackle and trim of so-called American culture; but

  nevertheless like and respect several individual Americans.

  Mr Steinberg was a man after my own heart. He, like myself,

  lived largely for ceramics but was humbly convinced that

  he knew little about them. As a matter of fact he knew a

  good deal more than I, except about English pottery and

  porcelain, since he was wealthy and widely-travelled and,

  being now in his sixties, had been at it a long time. I liked

  him principally because he quite sincerely saw himself less as

  the possessor than the custodian - for the time being - of the

  items in his collection. He was an excellent customer, nearly

  always eager to spend, and I had cultivated him assiduously.

  His way was first to discuss with me whatever he had in mind

  to acquire and then ask me to find and buy it for him, more

  124

  or less regardless of cost; and during the early years of our

  acquaintance (which were also those when I had been struggling

  to establish myself as a reasonably well-known dealer)

  I had more than once charged him high, though not exorbitant,

  prices. However, as my liking for him had grown,

  together with my respect for his rather touching scholarly

  humility, I had not only desisted from this but had once or

  twice asked him very little more for a piece than it had cost

  me.

  Mr Steinberg had often invited me to go over and stay.

  From pressure of work I had always been obliged to refuse,

  but there was a kind of understanding between us that one

  day I would find myself able to 'visit with' him in Philadelphia.

  Although he knew a great deal which I did not about

  oriental ceramics, for instance - he seldom or never

  paraded this knowledge: indeed, I often found myself wishing

  that he could be stimulated to become a little more

  forthcoming and less self-depreciating, since although he

  had seen a great many collections all over the world, it was

  a hard matter to pick his brains. Nevertheless, there was a

  forcefulness - a 'go-getter' quality - about him in the pursuit

  of any plan or idea which he had formed. In hospitality

  he was generous to the point of embarrassment, having, indeed,

  a kind of baffling unstoppability when it came to paying

  restaurant bills; and the only way in which I had ever

  been able to hold my own in this respect was by inviting him

  to Bull Banks, where he had dined several times and once or

  twice spent the night.

  Mr Steinberg had been collecting Dr Wall porcelain for

  several years and had now acquired what I felt sure must

  be a very fair collection indeed, judging by those pieces

  which he had bought from me. For some time past he had

  been on the look-out for a yellow-ground punchbowl, and

  it had given me satisfaction, just before my recent trip to

  Copenhagen, to find one (from the workshop of James Giles,

  its reserves decorated with cut fruit) and to buy it at auction.

  Since I knew he would pay whatever it cost, I had simply

  gone prepared to continue bidding until I got it; but, as not

  infrequently happens, this very preparedness had in some

  125

  odd way stifled the opposition, and I had not in fact had to

  pay more than a fair price. My letter to Mr Steinberg, giving

  details of the transaction, had been one of those which

  I had dictated to Kathe at Mr Hansen's.

  'Alan?' said Mr Steinberg warmly, across the intervening

  four thousand miles. 'How're you doing? Good to hear you!

  You got back all right from Copenhagen?'

  For the next three minutes of his long-distance call I

  assured Mr Steinberg, in reply to his enquiries, that I had

  survived the return journey from Denmark, that my health

  was good, that my mother's health was good, that my business

  was thriving and the weather was fine.

  'I was really glad to get your letter to-day,' said Mr Steinberg