The Empire Trilogy by J. G. Farrell Read Free Book Online

evening.
    The Majestic’s grounds were laid out on such an expansive scale that the Major was surprised to find that Edward’s game of tennis was taking place on a rather cramped and grassless court tucked in the right angle formed by the dining-rooms and another wing of lighter and less weatherworn stone, evidently an addition to the main building to cope with the hotel’s former popularity. This court had an advantage for spectators, however: outside the French windows there was a terrace with comfortable deck-chairs which the Major, who was exhausted, eyed hopefully. Sarah had changed her mind about watching the tennis and had dismissed Ripon and himself before reaching their destination. No sooner was she out of earshot when Ripon had said: “She can walk perfectly well, of course, without that wheelchair. That’s just to get sympathy.” Seeing the Major’s disbelief, he added: “I’ve seen her walking perfectly well when she thought no one was looking. I know you don’t believe me but you’ll see, you’ll see.”
    â€œWhat an odious young man,” thought the Major. “No wonder Angela didn’t mention him in her letters.” But nobody else was taking an interest in his arrival at the hotel, so for the moment he was obliged to remain in Ripon’s company. Besides, Ripon had at last made up his mind to head in the direction of the deck-chairs that stood invitingly unoccupied on the terrace and the Major was aching to sit down.
    Before he could reach them, however, he was intercepted by a maid with the news that the ladies wanted to speak to him. Looking round, he saw that a number of elderly ladies were gathered round a table at the far end of the terrace in a corner sheltered from the breeze. They waved and beckoned eagerly as he looked in their direction; they had evidently been in considerable trepidation lest he pass by without seeing them. As he walked over to introduce himself their anticipation increased visibly.
    â€œYes, yes, Major,” one of the ladies said with a smile. “We already know who you are, we’ve heard such a lot about you from dear Angela and we do hope you’re better. It must have been very alarming for you.”
    â€œMuch better, thank you,” replied the Major and as he was introduced to Miss Johnston, Miss Bagley, Mrs Rice, Miss Porteous, Mrs Herbert, and Miss Staveley (without, however, being able to identify clearly who was who) he wondered just how Angela had described the prolonged attack of “nerves” which had accompanied his convalescence. But the ladies were becoming impatient with the long introductions and with the little speech of welcome to the Majestic which followed, delivered by the only lady whose name and face had remained firmly cemented together, Miss Johnston. “Ask him, ask him!” they murmured, clutching their shawls and stoles around their shoulders, for by now the westering sun had all but left the terrace, blotted out by the great mass of the Majestic, and presently they would have to go indoors.
    â€œWe should like to know,” began Miss Johnston impressively, “whether you had tea this afternoon in the Palm Court.”
    â€œTea? Why, yes, thank you, I did,” replied the Major, staring at them in surprise. The ladies were exchanging significant glances.
    â€œThank you, Major. That was all we wanted to know,” Miss Johnston said in clipped tones and the Major felt himself to be dismissed.
    In the meantime, to the Major’s relief, Ripon had sloped off somewhere and there was a prospect of being able to relax undisturbed in one of the deck-chairs by the tennis court. Hardly had he sat down, however, when Ripon reappeared with a glass of beer in his hand and sat down beside him. Without offering the Major a drink he began to make comments in a confidential tone about anyone who happened to stray within his field of vision. The old ladies?