Julius (31 page)

Her curls were brushed behind her ears, forming a clump at the back of her neck, golden and thick. Impatient and careless, she tapped with her foot upon the floor.

Disturbed by the opening door she turned, and then flung a smile over her shoulder, her eyes watching his eyes.

Julius did not smile back; he looked at her, her face, her body, her hands on the flute, the colour of her hair; he looked at her figure outlined against the window, and a fierce sharp joy came to him stronger than any known sensation, something primitive like the lick of a flame and the first taste of blood, as though a message ran through his brain saying: ‘I for this - and this for me.’

It was Gabriel.

I
t seemed to Julius Lévy that the discovery of Gabriel was the most exciting thing that had ever come to him in life. It was stimulating, it was crude; because she was unknown to him though part of him the realisation of her was like a sudden secret adventure, tremendously personal to them both, intimate in the same absorbing fashion as a disease is intimate, belonging to no one else in heaven and earth, egotistical and supremely self-obsessing.

She had come at the right time. He knew that he had reached a period in his life that was stale and unprofitable, a mass of work and achievement lay behind him, a wealth of experience and knowledge that tasted dry as dust.

He had trodden so many paths that had led him nowhere, they were all alike and they had brought him nothing. It was as though he had eaten too much and drunk too much, and the mixture of years had destroyed the quality of his palate.

The joys of youth had long been lost, the early restless excitement, the ambition, the lust for work. He had had all that, he had passed them by, and now that he could stride the world as he wished because of his own money power, the charm was gone, the charm and the will-to-want, and the desire.

He was fifty, his body and his mind were undergoing some organic chemical change - he needed a tonic. So here was Gabriel at fifteen, with an abundance of youth and health and vitality which she must give to him because she belonged. He would use her as a boy uses his dreams, and a man uses his work and his mistress.

He had brought her into the world and now he was ready for her.

This voracious passion for his daughter that started so swiftly was like a match giving blaze to a high explosive; only the explosive burnt up and around, stretching farther and beyond with flaming tentacles, and was not extinguished. He concentrated upon Gabriel to the exclusion of everything and everybody; subconsciously it seemed to him that he must have foreseen this moment in his life fifteen years back when he brought her into the world with his own hands.

He had given her health and beauty and intelligence; he had created her for his purpose.

This sudden devouring obsession burst like a thunderbolt upon the house of Lévy and on the social world in general.

And Rachel, cool, calm, level-headed Rachel, whose life had run so smoothly during the past years for all her husband’s indiscretions, which had not touched her nor broken the serenity of married life, Rachel was disturbed and a little bewildered by this upheaval in the family, this pushing forward of Gabriel, this encouragement of precocity.

Rachel was devoted to her daughter in a placid conventional fashion. Gabriel was clever, Gabriel was attractive, Gabriel had been studying so well in Italy and emerging naturally and gracefully from a strong-willed, mischievous child to a well-mannered, sensible girl. Governesses and masters had spoken highly of her, and Rachel enjoyed the holidays spent by Gabriel’s side, encouraging little talents such as her dancing, her music, her knowledge of languages, and then the pleasure of dressing her well and having her in the drawing-room during afternoon.At Homes and musical evenings. Playing a round of golf with her on the private course at Granby, chatting with her about books in the schoolroom where she had her eight o’clock supper, kissing her affectionately, suggesting the advisability of a coffee-lace afternoon dress rather than chiffon velvet - velvets were too old - and all this while looking forward in her mind to Gabriel’s coming out in three years’ time, when she would have a dance, of course, and would do the season properly, and would enjoy everything with a fresh naïve curiosity - Rachel to guide her. And perhaps in a year or so meeting some eligible successful young man - one of their own race, naturally, and a suitable period of engagement, and a big wedding, and Gabriel radiantly happy in her new home with babies of her own.

Then this lovely, simple vision to be spoilt by Julius’s sudden absorbing interest, his insistence in pushing the child forward before her time, spoiling her, indulging her, encouraging every craze and every wish expressed.

At first it had been so pleasant, she thought; Gabriel home again and Julius being so delighted with her, Julius down at Granby where he complained of boredom generally, and the pair of them riding together, chatting, laughing, such good friends. It would, she hoped, bring the three of them closer to one another. Rachel would have once more the somewhat lost relationship of being his wife and companion and not merely his hostess and his background; the pleasure they shared in Gabriel their daughter would be the strengthening bond between them.

But none of this happened at all. His way was not her way. He was like a fanatic, obsessed with a new religion. And Gabriel was not the gentle, cultured, unsophisticated girl that Rachel had hoped to mould; she was someone who had grown up to strange maturity during those months abroad. She was no schoolgirl, charmingly
gauche
, a trifle shy, earnest over literature and music, leaning upon her mother for counsel; nor was she even the sullen, difficult adolescent, puzzled and easily irritated, rebellious of authority. Rachel could have coped with this by the judicious use of tact and gentle persuasion. No, the Gabriel who returned home needed no counsel, asked for no advice; she had emerged from a child into a vivid, flamboyant personality with a depth of knowledge in her eyes, as sure of herself as though she were a woman grown, no movement of awkwardness, no blunder in speech, instinctively wearing the clothes that set off her hair and her figure to advantage, speaking with the low soft voice that was no longer a child’s, laughing, lifting an eyebrow, shrugging a shoulder, using already the little tricks and gestures of sophistication; and these qualities coming from her naturally and unforced, so that they were part of her and could not be repressed. They were not the silly, play-acting of an unfledged schoolgirl but the realities of her hitherto hidden self.

Rachel was hurt; she did not understand. Something within her was shocked. She felt that Gabriel at fifteen knew more than she did at forty-five, and yet how could she? - the child had been carefully brought up and strictly attended, never out of the company of governesses at home or abroad. It was not acquired knowledge then, it was born in her; it had risen from her, and somehow it was doubly distressing to Rachel that her daughter could be such a stranger so far removed from her. She felt herself shadowy and ineffectual beside her, and for the first time middle-aged.

She watched Julius brush her aside for Gabriel, making the girl into a rich flaming background for himself while his wife was no longer needed, was a screen thrust into a corner, scarce acknowledged, ignored and tolerated as a piece of furniture that has served its time.

Rachel had to watch them, both so dissimilar physically and yet like to each other in blatant intimate fashion: the same laugh, the same brilliance, the same swift understanding and appreciation; and one was her husband and one was her child. And with a strange intelligent intuition she saw herself as the machine that had brought them together.

They were exactly alike in their supreme blind egotism, and as they wanted the same things their temperaments never for an instant clashed.

They knew one another so well. Rachel saw it in every boisterous laugh, in every glance, in every swift-as-lightning conversation, all starting from that first evening when Gabriel returned to England, and the pair had dined alone together for the first time.

They had motored down to Granby the following day. Rachel remembered the car coming round the sweep of the drive while she waited on the steps, and Gabriel leaning back in the car, her arm through Julius’s arm, kissing the tip of her fingers to her mother in greeting, saying something to Julius and Julius laughing back. And there they were both of them, side by side, Julius excited, possessive, gallant as though this child were a prize he had won, his eyes never leaving her; and Gabriel cool and collected, very smart in a sky-blue dress that matched her eyes, and a new ring on her finger, and a smile on her lips - too old, too wise.

A flash of misgiving ran through Rachel’s mind as she thought of the room that had been redecorated for Gabriel, so girlish and suitable, pale pink, of course, and the sitting-room in the same tone, the neat desk, the row of leather-bound classics on the bookshelves - and now she was following the child upstairs after the first warm embrace, Gabriel talking rapidly and giving a vivid account of the accident they narrowly missed
en route
, telling the story amusingly - too amusingly, thought Rachel, too self-confident - and here was Gabriel at the threshold of her little suite, an eyebrow lifted quizzically and a glance at her mother: ‘My dear, what have you been up to? Why this nun’s bower?’ And Rachel, shocked and slightly embarrassed: ‘Don’t speak in that tone, darling; it sounds so vulgar. And I hoped you’d be happy having this all to yourself.’

Then Gabriel kissing her on the cheek, so like Julius, rough and overwhelming, and throwing down her coat untidily on the bed and kicking off her shoes. ‘Don’t worry, I’m happy anywhere.Aren’t those lazy hounds going to bring up my things? I want a bath and a change. I suppose Louise is going to maid me ...’

Yes, there again, the same overbearing manner with servants, shouting at them if they were not on the spot, and yet treating them with unaccustomed familiarity at odd moments; as now, for instance, when Louise the maid came into the room: ‘Hullo, Louie my girl, put on a stone in weight, have you?’

Rachel left the room murmuring something about tea, only to find Julius behaving in much the same manner in the library, shouting at the butler, who was getting very deaf: ‘God in heaven, you old bastard, haven’t you any authority over these bloody servants? Tell someone to bring me a whisky and soda - have I got to yell myself hoarse?’ ‘Julius - Julius - please - I can’t bear that sort of thing,’ said Rachel. And then he must make things worse by patting Moon on the shoulder, forgetting his anger, laughing at him in sudden confidence. ‘What do you think of Miss Gabriel? Isn’t she a beauty?’ - Moon bowing his way out, avoiding Rachel’s eye. She thought how impossible this sort of thing would have been in the old days at home, in the Dreyfus circle, and her own poor father with his exquisite manners. She was uncomfortably aware that she was not looking forward to the evening. Dinner would be unbearable if Julius and Gabriel said anything dreadful in front of the servants. It had been unwise, perhaps, to suggest Gabriel dining downstairs.

Rachel, wishing for solitude, shut herself up in her boudoir between tea and dinner; she had some embroidery to finish, and then she allowed herself a quiet hour with the
Thoughts of Marcus Aurelius
. Anyway, it would be nice discussing books and pictures with Gabriel, and as the gong sounded and she went along to the south wing to dress, she heard voices and laughter coming from beyond the hall, and the click of a cue against a ball. They were playing billiards.

When she was dressed and downstairs in the library waiting for the second gong, she wondered what Gabriel would wear. She tried to remember her various dresses, but perhaps the child had bought herself some little frock in Italy.

Julius appeared first, usual velvet smoking jacket, of course. He seemed in an excellent humour and was humming under his breath.

‘Where’s Gabriel?’ he said.

‘She’ll be down directly,’ said Rachel, vaguely irritated, and went on: ‘Can’t you bear her out of your sight for a single moment?’

‘No,’ he said, and laughed, the sarcasm wasted on him.

Here she was at last, three minutes after the gong had sounded. Rachel tried to frown tactfully and glance at the clock, but she could only gaze at Gabriel, this child, this daughter of hers who looked so incredibly lovely in black velvet with a string of pearls round her neck, her red-gold hair brushed away and two pearl ear-rings just showing - quite unsuitable, of course - and the dress to her ankles - much too old; she looked eighteen at least.

‘Oh! you supremely beautiful thing; what am I going to do about you?’ said Julius - ridiculous words to say to a child - and Gabriel smiled, walking towards them languidly. Rachel felt she had staged her entrance well, and Gabriel said: ‘D’you like it, Mummy? I think the waist ought to be higher, and it could be narrower round the hips.’

‘You look very sweet, darling,’ said Rachel, ‘but it’s years too old for you. Now, if you have it several inches shorter and then perhaps a little band of velvet round ...’

‘Oh, rot!’ interrupted Julius rudely. ‘Nothing’s too old for Gabriel. She looks absolutely right. I won’t have it altered. She’s not a child.’

‘She’s only fifteen,’ said Rachel.

‘My dear,’ said Julius, ‘in Alger girls of fifteen have generally had half a dozen lovers.’

Gabriel laughed. ‘Not guilty, Papa.’

Rachel said nothing. Coarse of Julius to speak in that way, but Gabriel hadn’t even blushed.

‘Shall we go in?’ said Rachel. ‘We’re five minutes late already.’

Rather to her relief, because of the servants, much of the conversation at dinner was spoken in French. Gabriel’s fluency was a great delight to Julius.They spoke so rapidly to one another that often it was difficult to follow, although Rachel had always considered herself a fair scholar.