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Back Life at the Top Save as PDF
Chapters (30)
  1. Introduction
  2. LIFE AT THE TOP
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. About the Author
  30. About the Cover

Mrs. Brown was still talking with Canon Tintman. She would have been beautiful once, with finer features than Susan; but all those years of playing the Lady of the Manor had set her lips too firmly, had brought the flesh too close to the bone. Canon Tintman murmured something about a worthy cause and set­ting an example.

“I’m well aware of it, Canon,” my mother-in-law said. “But he really can’t undertake any more . . .” She looked at me spec­ulatively.

It wasn’t beyond my ingenuity to reconstruct the whole of that conversation, or to guess what she was going to ask of me. I was a Councillor now, and it was useful to have Councillors on committees. Soon I’d go over to her or the Canon would bring me over; I’d be asked to sit on whatever Committee it was, and I’d have to accept. And she’d use my Christian name just once, with a great effort, and she’d continue, more than once, to re­mind me of my origins and of where my bread was buttered. It was difficult not to hate her, and then, listening to Norah saying something about roses to Susan, the hatred left me. Mrs. Brown was a child; you couldn’t hate children.

“I adore them,” Susan said. “Why don’t we have more in the garden, Joe?”

“They’re not easy flowers to grow,” I said.

“Nonsense,” Mark said. “They’re very hardy.”

“I expect they are,” I said. But the words didn’t seem to mean any­thing, none of the words which I might use would mean any­thing; all that mattered was that you couldn’t hate children. They were all children here, even Brown himself, booming away about the bus strike to Julian Farney, the headmaster of St. Alfred’s.

“It’s a very responsible job,” Julian said. “I wouldn’t care to drive a bus myself.” He laughed nervously. He seemed more than usually thin and pale beside Brown, who was resplendent in a new dog’s-tooth check suit with a pink carnation in his button­hole.

“My job’s responsible,” Brown said. “But you don’t see me going on strike. You don’t see me asking for double pay and time and a half and tea breaks and this break and that break and the other break. . . .”