They returned to the drawing-room, and Lady Muriel conducted a brisk conversation on biblical prophecies, the measurements of the Pyramids, how much one should pay for illicit clothing coupons, and the difficulties of herbaceous borders.
After which she rolled up her knitting with great suddenness, and announced that she was going to take Shirley round the garden and dispatched Henry with a message to the chauffeur.
“He’s a dear boy, Henry,” she said as she and Shirley set forth. “Very selfish, of course, and frightfully extravagant. But what can you expect-brought up as he has been?”
“Does he-take after his mother?” Shirley felt her way cautiously.
“Oh dear me, no. Poor Mildred was always most economical. It was quite a passion with her. I can’t think why my brother ever married her-she wasn’t even a pretty girl, and deadly dull. I believe she was very happy when they were out on a farm in Kenya among the serious farming kind. Later, of course, they got into the gay set, which didn’t suit her nearly as well.”
“Henry’s father-” Shirley paused.
“Poor dear Ned. He went through the Bankruptcy Court three times. But such good company. Henry reminds me of him sometimes. That’s a very special kind of alstroemeria-it doesn’t do everywhere. I’ve had a lot of success with it.”
She tweaked off a dead bloom and glanced sideways at Shirley.
“How pretty you are, my dear-you mustn’t mind my saying so. And very young, too.”
“I’m nearly nineteen.”
“Yes… I see… Do you do things-like all these clever girls nowadays?”
“I’m not clever,” said Shirley. “My sister wants me to take a secretarial course.”
“I’m sure that would be very nice. Secretary to an M.P. perhaps. Everyone says that’s so interesting; I’ve never seen why. But I don’t suppose you’ll do anything long-you’ll get married.”
She sighed.
“Such an odd world nowadays. I’ve just had a letter from one of my oldest friends. Her girl has just married a dentist. A dentist. In my young days, girls didn’t marry dentists. Doctors, yes, but not dentists.”
She turned her head.
“Ah, here comes Henry. Well, Henry, I suppose you’re going to take Miss-Miss-”
“Franklin.”
“Miss Franklin away from me.”
“I thought we’d run over to Bury Heath.”
“Have you been getting petrol out of Harman?”
“Just a couple of gallons, Aunt Muriel.”
“Well, I won’t have it, do you hear? You must wangle your own petrol. I have trouble enough getting mine.”
“You don’t really mind, darling. Come now.”
“Well-just this once. Good-bye, my dear. Now mind you send me those particulars about time of birth-don’t forget-then I can get your horoscope worked out properly. You should wear green, dear-all Virgo people should wear green.”
“I’m Aquarius,” said Henry. “January 20th.”
“Unstable,” snapped his aunt, “remember that, my dear. All Aquariuses-most undependable.”
“I hope you weren’t too bored,” said Henry as they drove away.
“I wasn’t bored at all. I think your aunt’s sweet.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as that. But she’s not too bad”
“She’s very fond of you.”
“Oh, not really. She doesn’t mind having me about.”
He added: “My leave’s nearly over. I ought to be demobbed soon.”
“What are you going to do then?”
“I don’t really know. I thought of the Bar.”
“Yes?”
“But that’s rather a sweat. I think perhaps I might go into a business of some kind.”
“What kind?”
“Well, it rather depends where one has a pal to give one a start. I’ve got one or two banking connections. And I know a couple of tycoons who’d graciously allow me to start at the bottom.” He added: “I’ve not got much money, you know. Three hundred a year to be exact. Of my own, I mean. Most of my relations are as mean as hell-no good for a touch. Good old Muriel comes to the rescue now and again, but she’s a bit straitened herself nowadays. I’ve got a godmother who’s reasonably generous if one puts it to her the right way. It’s all a bit unsatisfactory, I know….”
“Why,” said Shirley, puzzled by this sudden flood of information, “are you telling me all this?”
Henry blushed. The car wobbled in a drunken manner.