Читать книгу Work Suspended and Other Stories - Evelyn Waugh - Страница 5

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Angela left the asylum, oppressed by a sense of injustice. Her mother was unsympathetic.

‘Think of being locked up in a looney bin all one’s life.’

‘He attempted to hang himself in the orangery,’ replied Lady Moping, ‘in front of the Chester-Martins.’

‘I don’t mean Papa. I mean Mr Loveday.’

‘I don’t think I know him.’

‘Yes, the looney they have put to look after papa.’

‘Your father’s secretary. A very decent sort of man, I thought, and eminently suited to his work.’

*

Angela left the question for the time, but returned to it again at luncheon on the following day.

‘Mums, what does one have to do to get people out of the bin?’

‘The bin? Good gracious, child, I hope that you do not anticipate your father’s return here.’

‘No, no. Mr Loveday.’

‘Angela, you seem to me to be totally bemused. I see it was a mistake to take you with me on our little visit yesterday.’

After luncheon Angela disappeared to the library and was soon immersed in the lunacy laws as represented in the encyclopaedia.

She did not re-open the subject with her mother, but a fortnight later, when there was a question of taking some pheasants over to her father for his eleventh Certification Party she showed an unusual willingness to run over with them. Her mother was occupied with other interests and noticed nothing suspicious.

Angela drove her small car to the asylum, and, after delivering the game, asked for Mr Loveday. He was busy at the time making a crown for one of his companions who expected hourly to be anointed Emperor of Brazil, but he left his work and enjoyed several minutes’ conversation with her. They spoke about her father’s health and spirits. After a time Angela remarked, ‘Don’t you ever want to get away?’

Mr Loveday looked at her with his gentle, blue-grey eyes. ‘I’ve got very well used to the life, miss. I’m fond of the poor people here, and I think that several of them are quite fond of me. At least, I think they would miss me if I were to go.’

‘But don’t you ever think of being free again?’

‘Oh yes, miss, I think of it—almost all the time I think of it.’

‘What would you do if you got out? There must be something you would sooner do than stay here.’

The old man fidgeted uneasily. ‘Well, miss, it sounds ungrateful, but I can’t deny I should welcome a little outing once, before I get too old to enjoy it. I expect we all have our secret ambitions, and there is one thing I often wish I could do. You mustn’t ask me what ... It wouldn’t take long. But I do feel that if I had done it just for a day, an afternoon even, then I would die quiet. I could settle down again easier, and devote myself to the poor crazed people here with a better heart. Yes, I do feel that.’

There were tears in Angela’s eyes that afternoon as she drove away. ‘He shall have his little outing, bless him,’ she said.