Comfort Zone. Brian Aldiss

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СКАЧАТЬ with reluctance, Guy opened the door wider, and with a gesture invited them in. He was wearing some kind of green knitted waistcoat under an old jacket with brass buttons. Maude and Justin came into a house of gloom, where heavily framed engravings hung on walls covered with a heavy green wallpaper selected for its funereal qualities. They followed Guy’s bent back into a sitting room at the rear of the house, where most of the space was taken up by a table and a number of chairs upholstered with a material of a green similar both to the wallpaper and Guy’s waistcoat.

      In one of these chairs sat Deirdre, close to an empty fireplace. Deirdre Fitzgerald appeared to be dressed in a number of garments, among which a beige wool shawl predominated. There was also a harsh-looking skirt, possibly woven by a long-dead Fitzgerald, which hung down to meet Deirdre’s button-up black shoes. They underwent the routines of greeting, at the end of which Deirdre said brightly, ‘I expect you would like some sherry.’ She had a small plump face with a sharp down-pointing nose which made her thin mouth almost invisible. Whereas her husband had clearly descended from a rather sturdy ape, Deirdre’s ancestry appeared to be more on the flightless bird line.

      ‘No, thanks,’ said Justin. He never drank sherry.

      ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Maude. She sat down on the nearest chair to look about her, smiling vaguely, in the manner of one who enjoyed green. Neither of the Fitzgeralds made any move towards a distant sherry bottle, let alone considering uncorking it. Guy was leaning against the wall by the door, his arms folded, mainly staring at the floor.

      ‘I see you have noticed the portrait of my mother,’ said Deirdre, nodding and smiling towards the oil hanging prominently above the fireplace, as if the woman it depicted was still alive. ‘You will notice she bears a strong resemblance to Lily Langtry, the Edwardian beauty. Everyone remarked on the resemblance. She went on a cruise to the Norwegian fjords once and was applauded all the way.’

      ‘The Haddocks have come about Om What’s-Her-Name, dear,’ said Guy, prompting her.

      ‘It’s a shame they never met my mother,’ said Deirdre, smiling forgivingly at Justin. ‘At one time she was notorious for her affair with Solly Joel, the South African millionaire. He gave her an invaluable diamond which I could show you. We Hawkes were of aristocratic descent, a little haughty, I’ll give you that, but fine people.’ She repeated the phrase for reassurance. ‘Fine people. Numbering among us an admiral and not a few poets. Colly Cibber? You probably have never heard of him but he remains a famous name. I have to say that Guy’s folk were of much humbler stock.’

      ‘We won’t go into that just now, dear, since it is not germane to the subject,’ said Guy heavily, ‘although my father’s father was a friend of the architect who designed the Titanic and its sister ship. These good people have come to enquire about the black girl.’

      ‘Well, she’s gone and that’s about it,’ said Deirdre. ‘I permitted her to stay in our summerhouse out of the charity of my heart, and she left without a word of thanks. She was probably an illegal immigrant. You know what these people are like.’

      ‘I know what Om Haldar was like,’ said Maude with spirit. ‘She was like a well-bred young woman, sweet-natured and considerate.’

      ‘But you cannot deny she has left without a word of gratitude,’ said Deirdre.

      ‘Yes, “done a runner”, in fact,’ said Guy, chuckling as he backed up his wife.

      ‘I do wish you would not use these slang terms, dear,’ said Deirdre. ‘They don’t suit you.’

      ‘Might we look in your summerhouse?’ Justin asked, turning to Guy. ‘Just in case she has left a clue behind.’

      ‘Er, I have had a look myself. Nothing. Nothing at all.’

      Maude was already making for the door. ‘Still, if we could just have a peep …’

      ‘Of course. I’ll come with you.’ He slowly unfolded his arms, as if to demonstrate a lack of eagerness.

      ‘I too have had a search,’ said Deirdre, with some severity, twisting in her chair. ‘I wanted to see if anything had been stolen. I remember my mother telling me that an aunt of hers, who lived in Cheyne Row, quite close to the Carlyles, had her house broken into and all her silver stolen.’

      ‘You kept your silver in the summerhouse?’ asked Justin, deliberately misunderstanding her. They made their way across the immaculate lawn, Justin, Maude and Guy.

      ‘She was rather a liar,’ said Guy. ‘Devious, you know.’

      ‘That was not my impression. My impression was of a fine young character,’ said Maude. ‘Solitary, yes, and guarded. But there was a warmth about her somehow which I felt enhanced my life.’

      Guy raised an eyebrow but gave no reply. Possibly the random enhancement of life was not his style. To Maude, the humble room seemed as it had always been when its gentle occupant was present. They looked about and found nothing. Everything was neat and clean. ‘She must be in some sort of trouble,’ said Maude, close to tears. ‘We really should call the police.’

      ‘I don’t think Deirdre would like that,’ said Guy. ‘At all.’

      ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t,’ said Justin.

      They made their way slowly back up the hill towards home, passing the White Hart as they did so. A man on the other side of the street, walking on the cobbled stretch of pavement, was about to turn into the pub. He caught sight of Justin and Maude and made the drinking gesture of lifting his elbow with his hand near his mouth. ‘Let’s join George,’ said Justin to Maude. ‘I need a drink after all that.’

      ‘I can’t stand that man Guy. There’s something wrong with him.’

      ‘No, Guy’s all right. He has a lot to put up with. That dreadful wife, for one item …’

      ‘I am convinced they have separate bedrooms!’ she replied distinctly. ‘You go and have a drink, dear. I’m off. I need a rest.’

      Justin followed George into the pub. George Ross was the local plumber. He also worked elsewhere, but the failures of ancient plumbing systems in Old Headington were sufficient to keep him in business for the rest of the century. He bought himself an Old Speckled Hen and Justin a glass of Australian Shiraz. They settled down comfortably behind one of the old wooden tables. The pub was almost empty. George had a round jovial face and a neat beard. Justin believed him to be amazingly clever, capable of thinking spacially in a way he could never manage himself. ‘I saw you were coming out of Righteous House,’ said George. ‘You friends with them?’

      ‘Far from it. George, you might know this. Do Guy and Deirdre sleep together? Maude would like to know.’

      George grinned. ‘Plumbers know everything. Separate rooms. Deirdre’s room is thick with mementos of her family. At a guess it was last century when Guy last got his leg over.’

      They started talking about women. While admitting how much they liked them and their company, complaint crept in like a hungry slug among lettuces. Justin complained about Kate’s frequent visits to Egypt, while George complained about a divorce that he had not really wanted.

      ‘I go into a house to fix their toilet. I see at once that the works are all this plastic stuff. It doesn’t stand up to use. When I first went into the trade, it was all metal – copper mainly. Now this plastic stuff СКАЧАТЬ