Books Do Furnish a Room by Anthony Powell Read Free Book Online Page B

wife. While on leave in Teheran the cipherine had suddenly decided to abscond with a rich Persian, abandoning Roddy to his own
resources. Susan, who had behaved impeccably during this unhappy interlude, now took over. When Roddy came back to England for the 1945 election, she worked
exceptionally hard. He retained his seat by a few hundred votes. As a
consequence, Susan’s ascendancy was now complete, Roddy utterly under her
control. She made him toil like a slave. That was no doubt right, what he
wanted himself. All the same, these factors were calculated to reduce high
spirits, even in one so generally appreciative of his own good qualities as
Roddy Cutts. His handsome, rather too large features were now marked with signs
of stress, everything about him a shade less strident, even the sandy hair. At
the same time he retained the forceful manner, half hectoring, half
subservient, common to representatives of all political parties, together with
the politician’s endemic hallmark of getting hold of the wrong end of the
stick. He was almost pathetically thankful to be back in the House of Commons.
    When George Tolland had been
buried a few months before, Erridge had not been present at the funeral. He
had, in fact retired to bed with an attack of gastritis – then very prevalent –
but from the start this absence had been assumed almost as a matter of course
by his sisters. That was not because any of them accepted too seriously Erridge’s
own complaint about chronic ailments, but on the general principle that for an
eldest son, no matter how progressive his views, it was reasonable to avoid a
ceremony where a younger brother must inevitably occupy the limelight; in this
case additionally so in the eyes of those – however much Erridge himself might
deplore such sentiments – who felt an end such as George’s traditionally
commendable; as Stringham had commented, ‘awfully smart to be killed’. This
last factor was likely to be emphasized by the religious service, in itself
distasteful to Erridge. There was therefore more than one reason to keep him
away, as of late years he had become all but incapable of doing anything he
disliked. It was agreed that, even without illness, he would never have
attended.
    ‘A psychosomatic attack was a
foregone conclusion,’ said Norah. ‘Anyway all parties go better without Erry.’
    Nevertheless George’s death had undoubtedly agitated his eldest brother. Blanche, in her sad, willing, never wholly comprehending way of
describing things, had been insistent about that. At least Blanche always appeared uncomprehending. Possibly she really grasped a great deal more than her own
relations supposed. The local doctor, Erridge’s
sole confidant in the neighbourhood, had not seen
him for a month, a most uncharacteristic omission. Blanche repeated Dr Jodrill’s words.
    ‘The coronary thrombosis
revealed by the post-mortem could owe something to emotional disturbance. I
venture to suggest Lord Warminster was greatly
unsettled by Colonel Tolland’s death.’
    Perhaps Jodrill was right. Long
submerged sentiments might all at once have taken charge. Even Erridge’s
indisposition at the time of the funeral could have had something to do with
these. Still, it was hard to contradict Norah in thinking Erridge better
absent. Several army friends turned up at the church, Tom Goring, always a
crony – ’Rifleman notwithstanding’, as George used to say – who had commanded a
brigade in the sector where George was wounded. Ted Jeavons was there too,
punctilious observance on the part of an uncle by marriage, whose own health
was notoriously poor. For obscure reasons of his own, Jeavons made the journey
by a different railway line from the rest of the family, returning the same
night. The church had not been full, fog and rationed petrol keeping people
away.
    At George’s funeral, as so
often on such occasions, the sharp contrast between life