Quartet in Autumn by Barbara Pym Read Free Book Online

David and Marjorie in the front made conversation about village matters which Letty could not join in.
    When they arrived at the picnic spot, Marjorie produced two folding canvas chairs from the boot of the car and these were solemnly put up for herself and David, Letty having quickly assured them that she would just as soon sit on the rug — indeed, she preferred it.All the same, she could not help feeling in some way belittled or diminished, sitting on a lower level than the others.
    After they had eaten cold ham and hard-boiled eggs and drunk white wine — an unusual touch, this, which Letty could only attribute to the presence of David Lydell - the three of them fell silent; perhaps, because of drinking wine in the middle of the day, a natural desire for sleep overcame them. An awkward arrangement for sleeping — three people, two in the chairs and Letty down below — but she closed her eyes against her will and for a short time was unaware of her surroundings.
    When she opened her eyes she found herself looking straight up at Marjorie and David, their canvas chain pushed close together, apparently locked in an embrace.
    Letty immediately looked away and closed her eyes again, wondering if she had been dreaming.
    'More coffee anyone?' Marjorie asked in a bright tone. 'There's some in the other thermos. Letty, I think you've been asleep.'
    Letty sat up, 'Yes, I think I must have dropped off,' she admitted. Had she imagined the whole scene, or was this another of the things she was going to have to get used to when she lived in the country?
    No sooner had Letty come back from her holiday than Edwin went on his. There had been a good deal of discussion in the office as to whether he should go by coach or by train and the advantages and snags of each method were endlessly weighed up. In the end the train won. It was more expensive but it was quicker, and Edwin would get enough motoring with his son-in-law and daughter and the two children. They would be in easy reach of Eastbourne, where there were some splendid churches, and he was looking forward to that. In addition there would be visits to a safari park and to the stately homes that offered the best attractions; perhaps they would even go as far afield as the Lions of Longleat, driving on as many motorways as possible, the men in the front of the car, Edwin's daughter and the children in the back. It would be a break for all of them, but soon, with the children growing up, they might want to go to Spain, and then what was to be done about Edwin? He wouldn't like Spain, they decided. Perhaps he could go on holiday with one of the people from his office; that might be a solution to the problem.
    Edwin hardly gave a thought to his working companions when he was away from them. It was only Marcia who came into his mind and that was in a rather curious way, when he was standing at the station bookstall before his train went, wondering whether he should buy something to read. He had already slipped down to Portugal Street to get that week's Church Times but that might not last him the whole journey. There was a colourful range of magazines on the counter, some of which displayed the full naked breasts of young women, enticingly posed. Edwin looked at them dispassionately. He supposed that his wife Phyllis had once had breasts but he could not remember that they had been at all like this, so very round and balloon-like. Then he recalled Marcia and her operation — mastectomy, he believed it was called, Norman had told him at the time. That meant that she had had a breast removed, a deprivation for any woman, though he could not imagine that Marcia had ever been endowed quite so abundantly as the girls on the magazine covers. Still, one must feel compassion for her even though she was not at all a lovable person. Perhaps he should have dropped in that evening he found himself over the other side of the common, passing the road where she lived. He wondered if she ever went to