Brideshead Revisited(50)



‘Well, I can’t stop you.’

‘You can, as a matter of fact — by not giving me any money. They stopped my banking account, you know, in the summer. It’s been one of my chief difficulties. I pawned my watch and cigarette case to ensure a happy Christmas, so I shall have to come to you tomorrow for my day’s expenses.’

‘I won’t. You know perfectly well I can’t.’

‘Won’t you, Charles? Well, I daresay I shall manage on my own somehow. I’ve got rather clever at that lately — managing on my own. I’ve had to.’

‘Sebastian, what have you and Mr Samgrass been up to?’

‘He told you at dinner — ruins and guides and mules, that’s what Sammy’s been up to. We decided to go our own ways, that’s all. Poor Sammy’s really behaved rather well so far. I hoped he would keep it up, but he seems to have been very indiscreet about my happy Christmas. I suppose he thought if he gave too good an account of me, he might lose his job as keeper.

‘He makes quite a good thing out of it, you know. I don’t mean that he steals. I should think he’s fairly honest about money. He certainly keeps an embarrassing little notebook in which he puts down the travellers’ cheques he cashes and what he spends it on, for mummy and the lawyer to see. But he wanted to go to all these places, and it’s very convenient for him to have me to take him in comfort, instead of going as dons usually do. The only disadvantage was having to put up with my company, and we soon solved that for him.

‘We began very much on a Grand Tour, you know, with letters to all the chief people everywhere, and stayed with the Military Governor at Rhodes and the Ambassador at Constantinople. That was what Sammy had signed on for in the first place. Of course, he had his work cut out keeping his eye on me, but he warned all our hosts beforehand that I was not responsible.’

‘Sebastian.’

‘Not quite responsible — and as I had no money to spend I couldn’t get away very much. He even did the tipping for me, put the note into the man’s hand and jotted the amount down then and there in his notebook. My lucky time was at Constantinople. I managed to make some money at cards one evening when Sammy wasn’t looking. Next day I gave him the slip and was having a very happy hour in the bar at the Tokatlian when who should come in but Anthony Blanche with a beard and a Jew boy. Anthony lent me a tenner just before Sammy came panting in and recaptured me. After that I didn’t get a minute out of sight; the Embassy staff put us in the boat to Piraeus and watched us sail away. But in Athens it was easy. I simply walked out of the Legation one day after lunch, changed my money at Cook’s, and asked about sailings to Alexandria just to fox Sammy, then went down to the port in a bus, found a sailor who spoke American, lay up with him till his ship sailed, and popped back to Constantinople, and that was that.

‘Anthony and the Jew boy shared a very nice, tumbledown house near the bazaars. I stayed there till it got too cold, then Anthony and I drifted south till we met Sammy by appointment in Syria three weeks ago.’

‘Didn’t Sammy mind?’

‘Oh, I think he quite enjoyed himself in his own ghastly way only of course there was no more high life for him. I think he was a bit anxious at first. I didn’t want him to get the whole Mediterranean Fleet out, so I cabled him from Constantinople that I was quite well and would he send money to the Ottoman Bank. He came hopping over as soon as he got my cable. Of course he was in a difficult position, because I’m of age and not certified yet, so he couldn’t have me arrested. He couldn’t leave me to starve while he was living on my money, and he couldn’t tell mummy without looking pretty silly. I had him all ways, poor Sammy. My original idea had been to leave him flat, but Anthony was very helpful about that, and said it was far better to arrange things amicably; and he did arrange things very amicably. So here I am.’

‘After Christmas.’

‘Yes, I was determined to have a happy Christmas.’

‘Did you?’

‘I think so. I don’t remember it much, and that’s always a good sign, isn’t it?’



Next morning at breakfast Brideshead wore scarlet; Cordelia, very smart herself, with her chin held high over her white stock, wailed when Sebastian appeared in a tweed coat: ‘Oh, Sebastian, you can’t come out like that. Do go and change. You look so lovely in hunting clothes.’

‘Locked away somewhere. Gibbs couldn’t find them.’

‘That’s a fib. I helped get them out myself before you were called.’

‘Half the things are missing.’

‘It just encourages the Strickland-Venableses. They’re behaving rottenly. They’ve even taken their grooms out of top hats.’

It was a quarter to eleven before the horses were brought round, but no one else appeared downstairs; it was as though they were in hiding, listening for Sebastian’s retreating hooves before showing themselves.

Just as he was about to start, when the others were already mounted, Sebastian beckoned me into the hall. On the table beside his hat, gloves, whip, and sandwiches, lay the flask he had put out to be filled. He picked it up and shook it; it was empty.

‘You see,’ he said, ‘I can’t even be trusted that far. It’s they who are mad, not me. Now you can’t refuse me money.’ I gave him a pound.

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