“A party,” said Colin, pondering.
“Yes. You must have friends, Colin.”
“I have friendly acquaintances — colleagues, mostly.”
“Invite them and we’ll make them drunk on doped whisky. Dull people can be quite entertaining when they’re drunk.”
“A very bad idea.”
“I was joking Colin! But I know how to make an innocent-tasting punch with a kick like a mule. And what about your father?” she asked, setting plates before them. “I bet Gordon knows how to enjoy a party. And there’s Clive — Clive Evans, you know.”
She sat facing him. He stared at her. She nodded back and said, “He’s great fun — socially I mean. You’ll like him.”
“You’ll let me come to the party Colin? Please Colin?” Bill pleaded.
“No!” snapped Colin. He laid down the cutlery and shut his eyes feeling too tired to think or speak. He heard Bill mutter, “I had almost decided to regard you as a friend, but you act like a friendly sea-lion with unexpectedly vicious traits.”
He heard Mavis say, “It’s strange that you and I have never been to a party together, Colin. I used to go to so many.”
He felt her hand touch his, despised himself for the comfort this gave yet relaxed for a quarter minute into something like sleep then wakened and quickly breakfasted because he must wash and dress for work. As he ate she suggested it should be a dinner party for ten — she could easily make a meal for ten — all Colin need do was ask his father and any six others he liked one Saturday evening a fortnight hence. That would give her plenty of time to prepare. Colin neither objected nor agreed to these suggestions but when he left the table she obviously thought the matter settled.
14
A week passed before Colin asked his father and some other people to the party. Mavis no longer went out at night. Perhaps she met Evans during the day. Since Evans had a job this could only be during his lunch hour, so the nature of her affair had changed and Colin hoped it was maybe dying of natural causes. The party would show colleagues that he and Mavis were living as husband and wife. The Welshman would see this too so when Evans left the party with the other guests his affair with Mavis could decently end. Colin considered suggesting this to Mavis but decided against making a selfish remark while she worked so hard to make him happy. As the party neared she grew more and more domestic, cleaning and tidying the house as his father had done, beautifying it with flowers and candles as his mother had never done. The Kerr candlesticks had been for decoration only but Mavis used them to light the dining-table which had once supported Glonda. Each night she placed there a different, surprisingly tasty meal. Colin showed appreciation by doubling her housekeeping allowance.
“I suppose I deserve it,” she said, kissing him. He decided he need fear nothing from Evans and persuaded Mavis to let Bill stay up for the meal if he went to bed immediately after.
On Saturday afternoon Colin drove into town with a shopping list written by Mavis for more wines and spirits than he thought necessary. She had made him promise not to come home before five because that would spoil a surprise she was preparing. He guessed the surprise would be something she wore so decided to surprise her back. Visiting a gentleman’s outfitter he changed his dark pullover and knitted tie for a red waistcoat and scarlet silk cravat. When he entered the living-room she laughed and said, “You peacock, you’ve outdone me.”
“O no,” said Colin, staring at her. She looked dazzling in white silk pants and white velvet tunic patterned with seed pearls, silver beads and minute mirrors.
“That must have … cost … a lot,” he said hesitantly.
“If you mean did I buy them out of my earnings as a street-walker the answer is no. You’ve never seen all the treasures packed in the cases I drag from lodging to lodging, Colin Kerr!”
“What’s a street-walker?” asked Bill looking up from a comic he was reading. He too was sprucely dressed with well-polished shoes and neatly combed hair.
“I’ll tell you one day when Colin isn’t here — Colin’s easily embarrassed. But Colin, look around! Isn’t the room lovely? Doesn’t the dining-table look inviting? Won’t your colleagues envy you for having such an efficient, loving, beautifully dressed, beautiful mistress?” Colin nibbled a nut from a dish of them on the bookcase and said, “Yes there dawns on me, waveringly, the notion that I will enjoy this party.”
“Of course you will, and Colin!” (she laid a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a girlish little pout) “I’ve a favour to ask — why are you grinning?”
“When you’re extra cheerful then ask me a favour it’s usually for something I hate to do.”
“Is there anything you wouldn’t do for me?”
“Probably not.”
She put her hands behind her back and said slowly, “Well I thought you, me and Bill would have a nice little snack together just now, and after that you might drive over to Comely Park which is where Clive — Clive Evans — lives and bring him back. You see he hasn’t a car, this place is hard to find by bus and … well there would be time for the two of you to go to a pub and have a pint together — before the other guests arrive, I mean. But of course you needn’t have a drink with him if you don’t feel like one. But I think you’d enjoy his company.”
“No,” said Colin.
“What do you mean?”
“I won’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Bill,” said Colin, “Mavis is going to make us a snack. Wash your hands please.”
“Are you two going to have a boring emotional storm?”
“Get lost Bill,” said Mavis. Bill pulled a face and went out leaving Colin and Mavis facing each other.
In a dangerously quiet voice she again asked Colin why he would not go. He replied in a voice which in his own ears sounded absurdly rational and laborious. “Mavis, I do not dislike Evans because he is your lover. In that he has my sympathy because I would like to be your lover. And it isn’t impossible for me to meet him at a party and say the meaningless things people say to each other at parties. But I refuse to treat him as a friend to satisfy either your vanity or convenience.”
“What a small tiny shrivelled ungenerous …” (she paused and grinned mockingly) “… mind you have!” He stared back at her and then sat down. She walked forward and back saying, “What do you suggest I do? I’ve told him to expect you. What do you suggest I do?”
“Phone him and tell him to come by taxi.”
“You do it. It’s your idea — not mine.”
“No.”
He employed his agitation by picking up Bill’s comic and staring at it blindly. After a few more aimless steps Mavis folded her arms and said, “I’ll explain why I arranged for you to pick him up. He didn’t want to come to this bloody party. He thought you would hate him because of me. I told him you were above such petty feelings. I said you would prove it by giving him a lift.” In a very low voice Colin said this showed that Evans understood and respected his feelings more than Mavis did; she should phone Evans, tell him she had been wrong and apologize. She flushed red and cried, “Phone him and tell him I’m..! What about the party? What sort of time will I have here without Clive, with only you and your friends and your father to talk to? Nobody kind? Nobody who loves me?”
“Our guests,” he said with hard clarity, “will be decent, reasonable men and women.”
“Unlike me, you mean. Tell them I may be rather late as I’ve gone to pick up a friend. There’s a piece of meat in the oven. It will be ready by eight if you don’t burn it.” She strode to the door. He jumped up crying, “If you take the car you’ll have plenty of time to get back before the guests arrive!”