Extraordinary. And you say he was illiterate?
It really helped him with the forging. He had no preconceived idea for example of how a letter was written. A letter was simply an abstract shape. Its easier to copy something with no meaning.
The heat of the morning deepened, and the smell of flowers. We had nearly finished the bottle of champagne. The lotos land[310], I thought.
To hear each others whispered speech,
Eating the lotos day by day.
What were the lines about the long-leaved flowers weep? It was the trees which wept here, golden tears. I heard an orange strike the ground. It rolled a few inches and lay among a dozen others.
What are you thinking, dear?
Tennyson has always been my favourite poet. I used to believe there was something Tennysonian in Southwood. The old church perhaps, the rhododendrons, Miss Keene sewing. I always liked his lines:
Then take the broidery frame, and add
A crimson to the quaint Macaw
although of course it wasnt embroidery she did.
Are you missing Southwood even here?
No, I said, there was another Tennyson and I find him here more than there.
Death is the end of life; ah, why should life all labour be?
Mr. Pottifer didnt believe that that death was the end of life.
A lot of people dont.
Yes, but he took positive action.
I realized that Aunt Augusta passionately wanted to tell me about Pottifer. I caught Mr. Viscontis eye and he gave a very slight shrug. Who was Pottifer? I asked my aunt.
He was an income-tax consultant, Aunt Augusta said and fell silent.
Is that all?
He was a very proud man.
I could tell that my remark in Boulogne still rankled and that I would have to drag the story out of her piecemeal[311].
Yes?
He had formerly been employed by the Inland Revenue a tax inspector.
The sun shone down on the orange trees, the lemon and the grapefruit. Under the rosy lapachos grew the blue and white flowers on the same bush of jasmine. Mr. Visconti poured what was left of the champagne into our three glasses. The transparent moon was dropping over the horizon. Somerset House, income tax They were as distant as the Mare Crisium or the Mare Humorum on the pale globe in the sky.
Please tell me about him, Aunt Augusta, I said reluctantly.
He had the idea, my aunt said, of prolonging his life after death by means of the answering service of the general post office. Not very convenient for his clients, of whom I was one. It was when I was separated for the second time from Mr. Visconti by war. In Italy I had never been accustomed to pay taxes. They came as a rude shock to me. Especially as the little income I had was regarded as unearned. When I think of those endless tours, Rome, Milan, Florence, Venice before Jo died and I joined forces with Visconti
A happy day for me, dear, Mr. Visconti said, but you were telling Henry about the man Pottifer.
I have to give a little background or Henry wouldnt understand about the company.
What company? I asked.
It was invented by Mr. Pottifer to take care of my case and that of a few other ladies in my position. It was called Meerkat Products Ltd. We were appointed directors and our incomes (unearned indeed!) were put down as directors fees. The fees appeared on the books and helped the company to show what Mr. Pottifer always called a healthy little loss. In those days, the bigger the loss, the more valuable the company when the time came to sell it. I never understood why.
Your aunt is not a business-woman, Mr. Visconti said with tenderness.
I trusted Mr. Pottifer and I was right to trust him. During his years as an inspector he had developed quite a hatred for the office he served. He would do anything to help anyone about tax. He was very proud of his ability to circumvent a new law. He always went into purdah for three weeks after a new Finance Act.
What was Meerkat and what did it produce?
It produced nothing or we might have shown a profit. When Mr. Pottifer died I did look up Meerkat in the dictionary. It said a small South African mammal like an ichneumon[312]. As I didnt know what an ichneumon was, I looked that up too. Apparently it was something which destroyed crocodiles eggs I would have thought an unproductive occupation. I think the tax inspectors probably thought that it was a province in India.
Two men came down into the garden carrying a black metal frame.
Whats that, dear?
The barbecue.
It looks enormous.
It has to be if its to roast an ox whole.
I said, You havent told me about the answering service.
It was most awkward, my aunt said, income-tax demands came in exorbitant as usual and every time I tried to telephone to Mr. Pottifer I heard the answering service, Mr. Pottifer is at a meeting of the Commissioners. He will call you back. This went on for nearly a fortnight, and then it occurred to me to ring him up at one in the morning. The answer was just the same: Mr. Pottifer is at a meeting of the Commissioners Then I knew something was wrong. It all came out in the end. He had been dead for three weeks, but in his will he had insisted that his brother should keep on the telephone and make an arrangement with the answering service.