Catherine-Wheel as my chaperon, darling. Having always been accustomed to being wrapped up in cotton wool and sheltered, I do appreciate it. You know that, don’t you?”
There was a fair imitation of a flash of lightning accompanied by a smart clap of thunder.
“Just stop talking nonsense, Jane, and listen to me! You can’t possibly go!”
“Why can’t I possibly go? I am going.”
“You can’t—with that gang.”
“No, darling. With you.”
She distinctly heard Jeremy grit his teeth.
“Jane, you can’t possibly want to get mixed up with that appalling crowd.”
“They’re all the relations we’ve got.”
“Thank the Lord for that! What a crew!”
Jane’s tone warmed a little.
“Jeremy, they’re not! You’re being snob. I love John Higgins— he’s a lamb.”
“And he isn’t going to be there—he’s got too much sense. Do you love Al Miller?”
“Not frightfully.”
“Or Geoffrey—or Mildred?”
“Geoffrey might have possibilities. I wouldn’t mind exploring them.”
The teeth-gritting was repeated. Jane said hastily,
“On the chilly side though, don’t you think? But I rather like Floss-to-my-friends. And Marian—now don’t tell me you don’t think she’s beautiful, because I simply shan’t believe you.”
He made an angry sound.
“I should think she has probably less brain than anything outside a home for the mentally deficient.”
Jane wrinkled her nose.
“Well, I don’t know. I think she’s got a pretty good idea of which side her bread is buttered.”
“That isn’t brains—it’s primitive instinct. I grant you she’s probably got plenty of that.” His voice changed. “Jane, stop playing the fool and tell me why you want to go to this damned place.”
She looked up at him with wide, clear eyes.
“Darling, it’s too easy. I want that hundred pounds.”
“Jane!”
She mimicked him sweetly.
“Jeremy!” Then she laughed, but when she spoke again her voice was serious enough. “Don’t you realize I’ve never had a whole hundred pounds in my life before? It’s the most marvellous thing that’s ever happened.”
“You can’t take it!”
“Watch me!”
“Jane—”
“Don’t be silly, darling! You don’t know what it means. I was ill for six weeks last winter, and I hadn’t a penny saved. The insurance money doesn’t go on for ever—I began to have nightmares. I didn’t know I’d got a relation in the world then. Quite apart from the money, that’s why I’m not prepared to go all snob about them like you when they do turn up. I’m going to make friends with them. And I’m going to have my hundred pounds and put it into the Post Office Savings Bank for a nest-egg. So there!”
He put a hand on her arm.
“Jane—why were you ill?”
She said with a touch of defiance,
“Because I hadn’t proper shoes, or a warm coat, or enough to eat.”
“Why hadn’t you?”
“Because I wasn’t in a regular job—just odd dress shows and things. And I had to keep up my insurance, or I’d have been sunk. I just couldn’t afford another time like that, and I’m not going to have one. I’m going to have all my kind relations—and my Cousin Jacob’s hundred pounds.”
Jeremy said nothing at all. She could feel him withdrawing silently behind his frontiers. That she had heard the last of Jacob Taverner, his invitation, and his hundred pounds was so unlikely that she gave it no consideration at all. That he had retired in order to marshal his forces and would presently march upon her with horse and foot, bombs and flame-throwers, was reasonably certain. He might be intending to wait until he had her alone, or he might just pounce with annihilating effect on the top of a bus. She decided on going home by tube, where the facilities for pouncing would be fewer as long as you kept up with the crowd and avoided being marooned with your adversary in an underground passage.
After one or two light-hearted remarks which were received in
Aziz Ansari, Eric Klinenberg