How much money does Julia have, I wonder?'
'I'll ask her one of these days.'
A rude little incident interrupted this peace. One night when Frances had gone up to bed Andrew opened the door to two French lads who said they were friends of Colin's, who had told them they could stay the night. One spoke excellent English, Andrew spoke good French. They sat at the table till late, drinking wine and eating whatever could be found, while that game went on when both sides want to practise the other's language. The semi-silent one smiled and listened. It seemed Colin and they had become friends while picking grapes, then Colin had gone home with them, in the Dordogne, and now he was hitching in Spain. He had asked them to say hello to his family.
They went up to Colin's room where they spread sleeping bags, not using the bed, so as to make as little disruption as possible. Nothing could have been more amiable and civilised than these two brothers, but in the morning a misunderstanding had taken them to Julia's bathroom. They were larking about, complaining that there was no shower, admiring the plenitude of hot water, enjoying bath salts and the violet-scented soap, and making a lot of noise. It was about eight: they planned to be off early on their travels. Julia heard splashing and loud young voices, knocked, knocked again. They did not hear her. She opened the door on two naked boys, one wallowingin herbath and blowing soap bubbles, the other shaving. There followed a volley of appropriate exclamations, merde being the loudest and most frequent. They then found themselves being addressed by an old woman, her hair in curlers, wearing a pink chiffon negligee, in the French she had learned in her schoolroom from a succession of mademoiselles fifty years ago. One boy leaped out of the bath, not even snatching up a towel to cover himself, while the other turned, razor in hand, mouth open. As it was evident the two were too stunned by her to respond, Julia retreated, and they picked up their things and fled downstairs where Andrew heard the tale and laughed. 'But where did she get that French?' they demanded. 'Ancient regime, at least.' 'No, Louis Quartorze. ' So they jested, while they had coffee, and then the brothers departed to hitchhike around Devon, which in the mid-Sixties was the grooviest place after Swinging London.
But Frances could not laugh. She went to Julia's, and found the old woman not in her sitting-room dressed and exquisite, but on her bed, in tears. Julia saw Frances, and stood up, but unsteadily. Now Frances's arms of their own accord embraced Julia, and what had seemed until then an impossibility was the most natural thing in the world. The frail old thing laid her head on the younger woman's shoulder, and said, I don't understand. I have learned that I understand nothing. ' She wailed, in a way that Frances would not have believed possible, from her, and she flung herself out of Frances's arms on to her bed. There Frances lay beside her and held her, while she sobbed and wailed. Evidently this was not any longer an affair of a bathroom being desecrated. When Julia was quieter she managed, 'You just let in anybody,' and Frances said, 'But Colin has been staying with them.And Julia said, ' Anybody can say that. And the next thing will be raga-muffins'll turn up from America, and say they are friends of Geoffrey's. ' 'Yes, that seems to me more than likely. Julia, don't you think it's rather nice, the way these young things just travel about like troubadours...' though this was perhaps not the best simile, for Julia laughed angrily and said, I am sure they had better manners. And then she started crying again, and again said, You just let in anybody. '
Frances asked if Wilhelm Stein should be asked to come, and Julia agreed.
Meanwhile Mrs Philby was in the house, and wanted to know, like the bears in the story, 'Who has been sleeping in Colin's room?' She was told. The old woman was the same vintage as Julia, as elegant and upright in her poor neat clean clothes, black hat, black skirt and print blouse, with an expression that refused any truck with this world that had come into being without any assistance from her. ' Then they are pigs, she said. Up ran Andrew, and found that an orange had rolled from a backpack, and there were some croissant crumbs. If this amount of piggishness was enough to disorientate Mrs Philby though surely by now she must have become used to it? then what was she going to say about the bathroom which Sylvia and Julia left scarcely disturbed. ' Christ! said Andrew, and rushed up to survey a stormy scene of spilled water and discarded towels. He did a preliminary tidying and informed Mrs Philby that she could go in now, and it's only water.
Andrew and Frances were sitting at the table when appeared Wilhelm Stein, Doctor of Philosophy and dealer in serious books. He went straight up to Julia, without coming into the kitchen, then descended, and stood in the doorway smiling, very slightly deferential, charming, an elderly gent as perfect in his way as Julia.