Not to Disturb. Muriel Spark
as if only too ready to withdraw quickly into the warm cottage.
The Baroness makes no move to put her thick-gloved hand on the wheel. She says, ‘I’m so very glad. Among servants of such mixed nationalities, it’s very difficult sometimes to achieve harmony. Indeed, we’re one of the few places in the country that has a decent-sized staff. I don’t know what the Baron and I would do without you all.’
Theo crosses his arms and clutches each opposite sleeve of his coat just below the shoulders, like an isolated body quivering in its own icy sphere. He says, ‘You’ll be glad to get in the house tonight, Madam. Wind coming across the lake.’
‘You must be feeling the cold,’ she says, and starts up the car.
‘Good night, Madam.’
‘Good night.’
He backs into the porchway of the cottage, then quickly turns to push open the door. In the hall he lifts the house-telephone and waits for a few seconds, still shivering, till it comes alive. ‘The Baroness,’ he says, then. ‘Just arrived. Anybody else expected?’
The speaker from the kitchen at the big house says something briefly and clicks off. ‘What?’ says Theo to the dead instrument. Then he hangs up, runs out of the front door and closes the big gates. He returns as rapidly to the warm sitting-room where Clara is lying dreamily on the sofa, one arm draped along its back and another drooping over the edge. ‘You waiting for the photographer?’ says Theo.
‘What was all that talk?’ Clara says.
‘Shivering out there. She was in her car, of course, didn’t feel it. On and on. Asked after you. She says, are we happy here?’
Pablo has got into the little cream coupé and driven it away from the front of the house as soon as Lister has helped the Baroness out of it, taken her parcels, banged shut the car door, and followed her up the steps and into the hall.
‘Here,’ she says, pulling off her big fur hat in front of the hall mirror. Lister takes it while she roughs up her curly grey hair. She slips off her tweed coat, picks up her handbag and says, ‘Where’s everyone?’
‘The Baron is in the library, Madam, with Mr Passerat.’
‘Good,’ she says, and gives another hand to her hair. Then she pulls at her skirt, thick at the waist and hips, and says, ‘Tell Irene I’ll be up to change in half-an-hour.’
‘Irene’s off tonight, Madam.’
‘Heloise, is she here?’
‘Yes, Madam.’
‘Still working? Is she fit and well?’
‘Oh, she’s all right, Madam. I’ll tell her to go and prepare for you.’
‘Only if she’s feeling up to it,’ says the Baroness. ‘I think the world of Heloise,’ she says, stumping heavily to the library door which she opens before Lister can reach it, pausing before she enters to turn to Lister while the voices within suddenly stop. ‘Lister,’ she says, standing in the doorway. ‘Theo and Clara – they have to go. I’m so very sorry but I need the little house for one of my cousins. We don’t really need a porter. I leave it to you, Lister.’
‘Well, Madam, it’s a delicate matter at the moment. They won’t be expecting this.’
‘I know, I know. Arrange something to make it easy, Lister. The Baron and I would be so grateful.’ Then she throws open the door somewhat dramatically and walks in, while the two men get up from the grey leather armchairs. Lister waits in the room, by the door.
‘Nothing, thanks, Lister,’ says the Baron. ‘We have everything here for the moment.’ He waves towards the drinks cupboard in a preoccupied way. The Baroness flops into a sofa while Lister, about to leave the room, is halted by the Baron’s afterthought – ‘Lister, if anyone calls, we aren’t on any account to be disturbed.’ The Baron looks at the ormolu and blue enamelled clock, and then at his own wristwatch. ‘We don’t want to be disturbed by anyone whomsoever.’ Lister moves his lips and head compliantly and leaves.
‘They haunt the house,’ says Lister, ‘like insubstantial bodies, while still alive. I think we have a long wait in front of us.’ He takes his place at the head of the table. ‘He said on no account to disturb them. “Not to be disturbed, Lister.” You should have seen the look on her face. My mind floats about, catching at phantoms and I think of the look on her face. I am bound to ventilate this impression or I won’t digest my supper.’
‘Not a bad woman,’ says Pablo.
‘She likes to keep grace and favour in her own hands,’ Lister says, ‘and leave disagreeable matters to others. “The couple at the lodge has to go, Lister,” she said, “I rely on you to tell them. I need the lodge for my cousins,” or was it “my cousin”? – one, two, three, I don’t know. The point is she wants the lodge for them.’
‘How many cousins can she possibly have?’ says Eleanor, looking at the clean prongs of her fork, for some reason, before making them coincide with a morsel of veal. ‘And all the secretaries besides.’
‘Cousins uncountable, secretaries perhaps fewer,’ says Lister, ‘if only she had survived to enjoy them. As it is the lodge will probably be vacated anyhow. No need for me to speak to the poor silly couple.’
‘You never know,’ says Heloise.
‘Listen! – I hear a noise,’ says Pablo.
‘The shutters banging upstairs,’ says Hadrian.
‘No, it’s him in the attic, throwing his supper plates around,’ Heloise says.
‘It wasn’t plates, it was a banging,’ Pablo says. ‘There it goes. Listen.’
‘Eat on,’ says Clovis. ‘It’s only the couple of ladies in the car again. They’re getting impatient.’
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