Cards of Identity (7 page)

‘The other way round,’ said the captain. ‘We inform Mrs Paradise of an applicant named Chirk, who is new to these parts, and then we produce Mrs Finch, under the name of Chirk. Mrs P., who will have been feeling nervous at the thought of a strange domestic coming here, will be relieved to find that Mrs Chirk resembles closely a trustworthy female whose name she had forgotten but which she thinks was something like Finch. And yet, on the whole, I think there’s no doubt that the important thing is to establish Finch
as
Finch – to give her the feeling that no matter what National Health may think,
she
knows
best
who
she
is.
If we confirm her as Finch, she will soon feel that this is the one place in the world where she has no reason to doubt her existence. In this respect, of course, she is quite the opposite of Mrs Paradise, who has needed to be totally re-identified in order to make the most of herself. … Well, what else have you brought from your fruitful “Surgery”?’

‘I think it clear that
all
three doctors have already lost almost all sense of personal distinctiveness. Dr Burke’s gestures and panting suggested a man bursting with emigration tendencies: only half his mind is chained to “Surgery”; the other half is already wearing pongee in Buenos Aires or helicoptering with a beard between Australian sheep-stations. I am not sure that we could allay this lust for a new beginning simply by bringing him here – unless, of course, we were able to convince him that he had spent his life in Australia and that this was the free, cultured world he had always dreamed of as the only way of realizing himself.’

‘Rule him out,’ said the captain. ‘Restless types are too full of grudges. What about Towzer?’

‘Most
interesting. His is the insanity of the phlegmatic, Britain-can-
take-it type. He has gone on taking it for so long that he no longer knows exactly what it is he is taking. With every pore wide open, he absorbs this unknown infliction, squeezing away his identity in order to give room to the stranger. By now, only his way of life remains true to his departed self: he continues to utter sounds that he vaguely associates with his proper status and character. At heart, of course, he has not the slightest idea of what that character and status are; nor does he dare pause to ask, for fear of finding them changed out of recognition. Provided a room full of despondent people between eight and ten a.m. daily, he would settle down anywhere.’

‘We could introduce morning-prayers every day at eight-thirty,’ said Mrs Mallet.

‘An excellent idea,’ said the captain. ‘You will play the harmonium. Beaufort will always be late, and flushed, and, unseen by Mrs Finch, will wink at Florrie. Why, I am beginning to see a pattern already! Oh, joy, joy! But tell me, Beau, to what use shall we put Towzer? Something in the open-air, poor man, I presume?’

‘I thought something in the garden. A hideously neglected bed of roses grows outside his house: I am sure he loved them before his face became so corrugated. He needs a beard, of course.’

‘Very well. We’ll try Towzer, though I must say I am a little shy of tampering with country doctors. They are accustomed either to being extravagantly praised or savagely denounced. They lack the poise and
laisser-aller
of the Harley Street man: I mean, they are sensitive to people and circumstances, and they expect to fight against odds and suffer. Well, if he is not the father often, which he may well be, bring him along, my boy. And now, what about the nurse – that vague lady who so ruthlessly plays fast-and-loose with human names? Nurses are a very distinct type, in my experience; the present does not exist for them at all; though absolutely practical in their daily behaviour, their minds are entirely concentrated upon the future – that is to say, upon the day when they marry a doctor. This is why they become so terrifyingly real when, instead of becoming doctors’ wives, they become head-nurses: it is a frightful shock to the nervous system, com parable to a man setting out to walk to Cuba and after years of trudging finding himself in Siberia. Could this particular nurse not help Towzer in the garden? We could give her those old cord breeches of Jellicoe’s to wear and, if she’s a good girl, a small tractor. While Towzer chops
and clips, she can spray and syringe: it will be just like hospital. And who knows – after rubbing shoulders with Towzer in the open air for a few months, she may cause his disbudded instinct to burst forth again? Yes, we must insist on Towzer’s beard. Though lecherous, nurses are a
nesting
type – true cuckoos, one might say, in every respect, including monotony.’

‘What about their names, sir?’

‘Towzer may as well keep his, both as an adjunct to his beard and a foil to his inoffensiveness. So she, of course, will become Miss Tray – Miss Blanche Tray.’

‘You don’t think that old memories of class differences will keep them apart?’

‘If there is one good thing to be said of the medical profession it is that their promiscuousness makes class-distinction impossible. Left to themselves, they would breed a classless world in one generation.’

‘Then I shall try and bring both Tray and Towzer,’ said Beaufort, rising enthusiastically.

‘Don’t overdo yourself, darling,’ said Mrs Mallet.

‘No fear of that … I say, who
is
that murky, lurking, furtive figure lounging about in the park? This is the second time I’ve seen him.’

‘Ask him peremptorily what he wants,’ said the captain.

Beaufort threw open the window, stepped on to the terrace and shouted in a bull-like voice: ‘What are you doing here! Don’t you know you’re trespassing?’

A sheepish cry came back.

‘Something about looking for his uncle,’ said Beaufort.

‘Tell him his uncle won’t be back until the day after tomorrow,’ said the captain. ‘Suggest he come back then. After all, we may want him.’

Beaufort obeyed. ‘I wonder if he’s a Paradise relation,’ he said, stepping in again and closing the window.

‘Time will tell. Off you go, now.’

‘I see you are feeling more relaxed,’ said Mrs Mallet, when Beaufort had gone.

‘Well, it
is
a strain isn’t it, that first day or two – assailed by doubts, hating the responsibility? It was I who proposed having the Summer Session in the country; I who assured the Club that a place could be staffed and set in order. But I stand by what I said then: that this will be a broadening experience for all of us. Why, do you know that Orfe
and Shubunkin have not once been outside London since childhood? Even the President admits that it is forty years since he saw a hedge. Oh, I am glad to be busy again! And glad to see you and young Beaufort so happy together. It makes me regret my own single state. I have not really been the same man, you know, since they deported poor Becky.’

‘To the outsider, if you have changed at all, it is for the better. I mean that your best faculties are better than I have ever known them.’

‘Thank you for saying so, dear. It’s true, of course, that life with Becky was a terrible strain, and I will even confess that when I watched her being walked away by two policemen, though I could hardly see for tears, I did feel relieved. But what an old-fashioned man I am, at heart! No sooner do I get the peace I’ve always prayed for than I begin to feel ashamed of it. Celibacy makes one so neat and tidy and prim, a sort of hermaphrodite; all that saves me from hating myself is the thought that the work I am doing will be enjoyed by others – that I do it not for myself alone but for the Club.’

‘Someone is knocking on the window,’ said Mrs Mallet.

The captain went to the terrace door and threw it open. ‘Who are you, may I ask?’ he said.

‘Paradise, my name, sir.’

‘Indeed! Are you in search of something?’

‘Thought you might have seen my uncle – and aunt.’

‘And why, pray,’ asked Mrs Mallet in a high, aristocratic voice, ‘should my husband have seen your uncle – and your aunt?’

‘You had better come in, anyway,’ said the captain. ‘And stop shuffling like that.’

‘I always do that,’ said Lolly, breaking into a broad smile and looking at the captain with admiring surprise, as if astonished that so personal a trait could be detected.

‘Well, sit down and keep still,’ said the captain. ‘When did you last see your uncle?’

‘Just the other day. I mean: it wasn’t him I saw; but I saw Auntie and she told me.’

‘Just what did Auntie tell you?’ cried Mrs Mallet coldly. ‘Surely not that as a result of seeing her you had seen him?’

‘You misunderstand, dear,’ said the captain. ‘Mr Paradise means that as a consequence of seeing his aunt he was able to envisage his uncle.’

‘That’s right,’ said Lolly.

‘It is
Greek
to me,’ said Mrs Mallet, taking up some sewing and looking coldly away. ‘Unless uncle and aunt so closely resemble one another that even their nephew cannot distinguish between them.’

‘Well, if they’re not here, I’d better be off,’ said Lolly, beginning to shuffle again.

‘If you have no objection, dear,’ said the captain timidly, ‘I will try and help the young man by asking one or two questions.’

Mrs Mallet gave a high laugh, and started to sew.

‘Do your uncle and aunt normally reside near these premises?’ asked the captain.

‘Down at the lodge,’ said Lolly.

‘Our
lodge?’

‘Why, yes, that’s right,’ said Lolly. ‘But they’re away, or something. Milk bottles left outside.’

‘On which
we
have paid a heavy subsidy,’ said Mrs Mallet.

‘You know them, do you?’ asked Lolly hopefully.

‘They sound like the couple we evicted,’ said the captain. ‘I suppose, in their panic, they forgot to stop the milk.’

‘Evicted?’ repeated Lolly with faint surprise.

‘Well, what else could we do with them?’

‘I didn’t …’ Lolly began, and then stopped.

‘Finish
the sentence,
finish
it!’ cried Mrs Mallet sharply.

‘I just mean,’ said Lolly nervously, ‘I didn’t know anyone had the right to do that.’

‘Good heavens! What an extraordinary idea!’ said the captain, laughing. ‘Who would prevent us?’

Lolly looked vague and dismal. At last, he said: ‘Then they’ve gone, eh?’

‘Unless, in the shape of identical twins, they are haunting the park in spirit form,’ said Mrs Mallet.

‘Were you greatly attached to them?’ asked the captain. ‘Because if you were, I could probably find their new address. You see, my agent handles all such affairs – dismissals, evictions, claims, lawsuits. I never see the actual people, because they tell such distressing stories, and I don’t want them on my conscience. I have to do it that way, otherwise nothing would ever get done. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, personally, your uncle and aunt just don’t exist.’

‘They always stayed quiet,’ Lolly admitted.

‘Well, anyway, I expect you have other relations to step into their shoes.’

‘No, sir, they’re my only ones.’

‘Why not ask the police?’ said Mrs Mallet in a nasty voice.

Lolly looked shocked and began to shuffle. ‘I don’t ask
them
things,’ he explained.

‘And, pray, why not?’ cried Mrs Mallet. ‘Is your character not above suspicion? Does some vein of petty crime run though your family? How are you employed, may I ask?’

‘Well, I’d better be going,’ replied Lolly, edging towards the terrace.

‘Come again, in a few days, if you like,’ said the captain, opening the terrace door. ‘We might have news for you.’

‘Oh, that’s all right.’

‘May I add?’ cried Mrs Mallet, ‘that if your uncle and aunt had wished you to know their new address they would have taken care to supply you with it?’

‘That’s right,’ said Lolly agreeably, ‘so I’ll say good morning.’

‘You are too gracious,’ said Mrs Mallet, with another high laugh.

Lolly ambled down the drive. ‘An odd fish,’ said the captain. ‘I must say he took me by surprise, or I would have kept him. But what could we use him for? I don’t want to tackle anything too complicated at this stage. Well, we’ll see, next time he comes.’

‘You think he’ll come again?’

‘Don’t you? He came this time out of curiosity and because a visit might be to his advantage. But at some moment in the next few days it is going to dawn on him suddenly that he really
has
lost something. A draught will play on his life. He will even get worried, feel unsettled. Like me, when Becky went.’

‘Poor dear! You have Becky on your mind today.’

‘Well, as I say, she left me in peace.’

There was a knock on the door and Jellicoe entered. ‘There is a suspicious character in the park, sir,’ he said.

‘Do you suggest we loose the dogs, Jellicoe?’ asked Mrs Mallet, giving Jellicoe a warm smile to show that she was not being unkindly sarcastic.

‘We have already ordered him off, Jellicoe,’ said the captain. ‘But you were quite right to be alarmed.’

‘Jellicoe looks tired,’ said Mrs Mallet. ‘I think you are working too hard, Jellicoe.’

‘It’s moving the furniture, madam. Some of it is very heavy. British Railways has just brought a fresh lot.’

‘You mustn’t try and rush it, Jellicoe. Do it slowly, piece by piece, and you will not feel the strain so much.’

‘Yes, madam. I’ve prepared a bit of luncheon. Rather a scrap one, I must say.’

‘Well, you will be glad to hear, Jellicoe,’ said the captain, ‘that Florence will shortly be with you again. So that will take the cooking off your hands. I hope there will soon be a maid-of-all-work too. And a gardener and an assistant. That will mean a staff of five. Then you will have no complaints.’

‘I’m not complaining, sir, I hope I never complain.’

‘No, I don’t think you do. Still, we must watch your health. We don’t want you to break down. Is the dining-room ready yet?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir. It’s getting the big carpet up the stairs that’s holding me back. It’s fifty feet long, sir. But I’ve managed the under-felt.’

‘Well, that’s the easy part, isn’t it? Couldn’t you rig up some sort of pulley?’

‘Or a slide of some kind, Jellicoe?’ suggested Mrs Mallet.

‘I could try a slide, madam. But it’s up, not down.’