Page 47 of The Gathering Storm

‘I suppose they must, even if they don’t call them that. Cynthia is having a bridesmaid, at any rate, Richard told me.’

‘Yes, I know – a schoolfriend of hers.’

‘It’s such a pity I didn’t get invited to Robert’s wedding,’ Basil said, with an air of pathos. ‘As a journalist, I would have liked to be able to compare the two – family only at Caxton Hall, and the entire fashionable world at St Margaret’s.’

‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards,’ Charlotte said.

‘Perhaps I’ll stand outside in the street with the rest of the spectators and take notes as people go in. Will you wave to me?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Charlotte.

In the train down to Hampshire, Basil pondered on what sort of frosty reception he might meet, not because he had done anything bad lately, but because he was so accustomed to being dressed-down he never expected anything else. But his parents were so happy about the safe arrival of their first grandchild, they hadn’t room for any negative emotions.

His mother embraced him with a radiant smile and said, ‘Isn’t it wonderful? And they really hoped for a boy!’

His father gave a lopsided grin as he said, ‘I didn’t expect to be this moved. I suppose you can’t know until you experience it.’

It made Basil feel such a degree of gratitude towards Barbara that he refrained from saying, when the baby was presented to him, that it looked a poor specimen – which was odd, because Babsy was pretty decent-looking for a sister, and old Freddie must have been handsome when he was young. He peered at the creased brick-red face, which was not improved by the contrast with the lacy white bonnet. ‘What are you calling it?’ he asked.

‘Douglas Frederick,’ Barbara said. ‘We’re going to have a big christening party when I’m out of bed. I want you to be one of his godparents.’

Basil couldn’t help it. He roared with laughter. ‘I’m sure Freddie didn’t agree to that! He’s met me more than once. He must be aware of how unsuitable I’d be.’

Barbara shook her head at him with a fond smile. Nothing could disperse her euphoria. ‘Don’t be silly, Bozzy darling – you’ll be splendid.’

He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Your blind faith in me is what keeps me going. But I’m not godfather material. Choose someone else, and save yourself disappointment.’

The nurse came in to say Mother had had enough excitement and it was time for visitors to go, and Basil exited promptly with relief, going downstairs to join his parents.

‘Douglas?’ he said, as he entered the sitting-room. ‘Where on earth did they get that from?’

‘It’s the name of Freddie’s brother, who died in the war,’ Helen said. ‘And his grandfather, I think. A family tradition, anyway. And Frederick after his father, of course. What did you think of him?’

‘The baby? It looks like a slightly shrivelled tomato. Why did they put that terrible hat on it?’

‘You’re trying to be provoking,’ Helen said, ‘and of course it – he – will look better in a few days. Babies are always crumpled to begin with.’

Jack said, ‘In that case, darling, there’s no point in asking people what they think about a brand-new baby, is there?’

‘Well, I suppose I wanted to hear how he feels about being an uncle.’

‘Oh, my God, I am, aren’t I? It sounds ancient. Crusty old Uncle Basil. I think I shall start wearing a smoking-cap and harrumphing. How does one harrumph, by the way?’

Jack laughed. ‘You’ll never get a straight answer out of him. How are you, my boy? How’s the job going? Do you like the new premises?’

‘I’m so pleased you are settled at last,’ Helen added.

Basil was thrown into a quandary. He didn’t like the new premises. Even if he played hooky, there was nowhere to go, surrounded as they were by acres of industrial estate. It was an eight-minute walk to the Tube station, and then at least thirty minutes into Town. He hated not being in London, and any day now, Aunt Molly and Uncle Vivian were going to turn their attention to training him properly for a serious, permanent job at Dolphin Books, and his goose would be cooked. Next thing they’d be saying he ought to live nearer the job, and wanting him to move to a room in North Acton.

He had come to the conclusion that he would have to find another job. He was pretty sure that if he chucked Dolphin, Aunt Molly would not want to keep harbouring him in Arlington Street, which would mean getting lodgings, which in turn would mean earning a living. It was a horrible prospect, but far worse to be marooned for ever in the arid waste, caught ’twixt the wind of the railway lines and the water of the Grand Union Canal.

What job he could do – or, rather, what was the least objectionable job that would take him – was one problem; how to sell the idea to the Aged Ps the more immediate one.

He assumed an earnest expression. ‘That’s something I wanted to talk to you about,’ he said.

His mother’s face registered dismay. ‘Oh, Basil! What have you done now?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, in a wounded tone. ‘I don’t know why you always assume I’m in trouble.’