The Spring Madness of Mr Sermon (6 page)

^{A kind of frenzy seized Mr. Sermon after his daughter had replaced}

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^{the receiver and hurried upstairs to her room. He wanted most desperately to pursue and question her, demanding to know exactly what the caller had said and what tone of voice he had employed. The phone call had pricked the bubble of indifference inside him, telling him that Lane-Perkins' father had lost no time at all in contacting the school and then tracing the man responsible for the damage to his son's bullet head and as he realised this a flame of anger seared him. There was no comradeship in the Headmaster, no courage or loyalty to his profession! He had been hectored by Lane-Perkins Senior and had washed his hands of the incident, even to the extent of supplying the angry parent with his deputy's private telephone number. Sermon felt his knees trembling and acidity rising in his gorge, and with fear and wretchedness came disgust at the brutal indifference of everybody round him; the sheer, animal selfishness of his wife, son and daughter, slavishly obsessed with their own trivial problems, a group of chattering poseurs, a second-hand motor-bike and a complete stranger called Derek who was going to Canada! Mr. Sermon, however, was no weakling. Self-pity gave him no release and a little of the glow of his access to power in the classroom and Headmaster's study remained with him, like the last rays of a sunset lighting up a scene of chaos and desolation. He reached out towards this gleam, battling with panic and resentment and said, between clenched teeth; "Damn them! Damn them all! But they shall listen, they shall help! I'll tackle Keith and Jonquil in the morning. It's time that precious pair gave as well as grabbed. And Sybil shall listen too, if I have to take her by the scruff of the neck and drag her away from that yammering mob out there. I'll give her another ten minutes and after that ... !" but while he was saying this and stomping upstairs to his little dressing-room that adjoined the main bedroom, cars were already reversing in the driveway and Sybil's guests were retrieving coats and hats and moving out into the garden.}

^{He sat down in the basket chair facing the large round shaving-mirror and listened to their goodbyes and exhaust stutters. Then, with relief, he remembered that Sybil had a ritual for evenings like this and invariably came straight upstairs when the last guest had gone and took off her shoes and dress to lie on the bed and 'recap'.}

^{Sybil's 'recap' was a natural sequel to a casting conference or rehearsal. She liked to make her decisions there and then, while impressions were still fresh in her mind and such decisions as she made at this hour were almost invariably translated into edicts and telephoned to the Honorary Secretary the following morning.}

^{Tonight was no exception. A moment or so after the last car had scrunched on the gravel he heard her footsteps ascending the stairs and the light go on in the bedroom. The door of his dressing-room was a foot or so ajar but he resisted the temptation to call out. Instead he sat very still, watching her reflection in the mirror. He felt that he needed a moment or so to collect himself, to muster his overriding sense of frustration and irritation so that he could talk quietly and rationally to her, setting out the facts in calm, chronological order.}

^{He saw her stoop and wrench off her shoes and heard her sigh with pleasure as her feet were freed from their airtight prison. Then, as he watched, she looked in her dressing-table mirror and passed both hands round the nape of her neck, as though she was suffering from a headache or tension.}

^{He was almost enjoying himself now. It was years since he had sat still and watched her in the privacy of their bedroom and it struck him that this was an odd state of affairs for a man and wife who had been living together for nineteen years. Suddenly she yawned, tapped her mouth, stood up and unzipped her grey gown, emerging from it, he thought, like a straight white sword from its sheath. The light fell on her shoulders and its sudden radiance must have pleased her for she studied herself in the glass and half smiled, as though more than satisfied with the reflection.}

^{He had almost forgotten his problems now. He was like a lover standing in a dark street watching the shadow-play of his beloved on a window-blind. The physical yearning he had felt for her upon the hill returned with a warm, sweet rush and he began to feel like a gambler who sees his horse drawing ahead of the others and carrying his winnings past the post. Then she did another curious thing. With a shrug she wriggled out of her silk slip and moved back a pace, standing relaxed in her sheath-like corset, bra and black lace panties, admiring herself and turning this way and that, a warm}

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^{flush upon her cheeks and her lips parted. Sebastian resisted an impulse to chuckle. All the years he had known her he had never seen her behave like this, never suspected that, when alone, her conduct varied in any way from that of the composed, ultra-dignified woman who never raised her voice and walked without seeming to use her feet. Yet it was so obvious from her pose and expression that she was delighted with her reflection. She patted her flat stomach and lifted her large breasts. Then she turned sideways and studied her profile, her glance travelling down until she could see the line of her hips and heavy buttocks in the side-flap of the dressing-table mirror. She did not seem to find this part of her anatomy so pleasing for she frowned and wriggled her toes, as though protesting at so much flesh. She was still frowning when he gave himself away, leaning forward to improve his view and forgetting that wicker-work creaked.}

^{She gave a little gasp of dismay and he jumped up, giving an apologetic cough and calling, "It's all right, Sybil, it's only me!"- an admission he instantly regretted because it implied that he had been spying on her since^she entered the room. She almost ran round the bed and flung open his door.}

^{"What on earth are you doing, Sebastian? How long have you been sitting there in the dark?"}

^{She seemed very embarrassed and angry and he hastened to calm her.}

^{"Only a moment or so, I came up just as they were going."}

^{"But you must have heard me come in!"}

^{"Yes, I did, naturally I did."}

^{"Then why on earth didn't you say something?"}

^{He wanted to explain that he had been so absorbed in her as a woman that he did not want to deny himself the pleasure of looking at her and something like this rose to his lips but he realised that this would only increase her displeasure. It was obvious from the bright pinkness of her cheeks and the light in her eyes that she resented his Peeping Tom tactics, so he said:}

^{"I was thinking, I've got a great deal to think about, Sybil."}

^{"Really? What especially?"}

^{"I've had a big row with the Head and I don't think I'm going back to Napier Hall."}

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^{"You mean you've given notice?"}

^{He could see she was not only surprised but piqued and this disconcerted him for suddenly he was utterly bored with Lane-Perkins and the Reverend Hawley and everything else in the immediate past. It was obviously a day for- seeing people as they really were. For the first time in years, he was seeing his wife as a glowing, healthy and extremely desirable woman and he did not want to be side-tracked into a dismal recital of everything that had happened that day. They could discuss Napier Hall later. They had the whole of their lives to discuss it and cope with any repercussions that followed Lane-Perkins" painful acquaintance with the hot-water pipes. At the moment what he needed was solace, the physical solace of the strong, handsome woman standing before him with light gleaming on her pale shoulders revealing the petal-like texture of her skin. She must have read his mind for she turned aside and picked up a flowered robe that was lying on the end of the bed.}

^{"Don't bother with that, Sybil!" he said, hoarsely and reaching out to relieve her of it. "I'll explain everything later, afterwards!"}

^{To his extreme mortification she swung round and stepped backwards until she was standing against the wardrobe. There was tension and anxiety in the way she braced both hands against the smooth mahogany of the door and in her eyes was not fear exactly but a kind of astonished dismay. He paused, facing her.}

^{"What's the matter, Sybil? Why are you looking at me like that?"}

^{"What's the matter with you?"}

^{"Nothing's the matter with me!" he retorted, irritably, "except that I'm fed to the back teeth and I need you right now, more than I've ever needed you before!"}

^{The hunted look went out of her eyes and she relaxed.}

^{"Very well, Sebastian, let's sit down calmly and talk about it."}

^{He almost snorted with disgust. "I don't want to talk about it, not at this moment. I did, but I don't now!!...!... want to make love to you, Sybil! There's nothing very extraordinary about that is there?"}

^{She blushed again but covered her momentary confusion with a dry little laugh.}

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^{"Really, Sebastian, there is something the matter with you! You're behaving quite ridiculously. Now listen to me . . . !" and she made an attempt to side-step him and regain freedom of movement about the room.}

^{"'Listen'!" he suddenly shouted, "'listen' you say? I've been bloody well listening to people all my life and now want to do something for a change!", and he emphasised the declaration by making a wild grab at her as she slipped past him round the end of the bed.}

^{He missed her but only just, his fingers hooking in the taut elastic of her brassiere fastenings so that her rapid movement expanded it and it slipped from his grasp, snapping against her flesh with a vicious little smack.}

^{"Owwww!" she cried, wriggling and backing quickly against the bathroom door and then "Owww-ohhhh!", as the small of her back struck the brass door-handle. They were the most unladylike sounds she had ever uttered, and for a moment Mr. Sermon was so startled by them that he paused in his pursuit. She was quite angry now from the pain, loss of dignity or both and he checked his impatience, realising that his tactics were getting him nowhere. She looked so unlike the Sybil he knew as she bobbed up and down, both hands reaching behind her back to massage her hurts, that he laughed outright and the laugh helped to steady him.}

^{"You look absolutely wonderful tonight, Sybil!" he announced and this was not routine flattery employed to further his cause for it genuinely delighted him that this big, handsome woman wriggling her behind against the door and staring at him with pained resentment was indeed his wife, the woman who had married him, she whom he held in reverence and awe because of her money and assurance and subtle dominance over almost everyone she met. He was seeing her at last as a mate and an equal, a woman who could receive as well as give and whose big breasts and the deep cleft that divided them excited him as he had never yet been excited by a woman. A distant echo of the Reverend Hawley's warning about the male change of life reached him but he shrugged it off, surrendering to an overwhelming desire to possess her, and with a boldness that}

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^{surprised him he caught her by the waist and jerked her sideways on to the bed, ignoring her squeals of protest and laughing openly at her violent struggles.}

^{"Sebastian!" she screamed and gave a vast heave that carried them across the width of the bed and deposited them on the floor under the splintered wreckage of a light-weight bedside table that supported bedside light, carriage clock and an anthology of 1914-18 verse he had been reading the previous night.}

^{Unfortunately for him, Sybil fell uppermost and her weight seemed to grind him into the floor, pressing his face into the boards and coating his lips with fluff, so that he thought fleetingly of poor Bateman whose face had been rammed against the desk when Lane-Perkins fell on him. He heard, as from the distance, the crackle of splintered wood and the sharp crack of the clockface glass, then the derisive tinkle of the china lamp rolling across the room and smashing to pieces in the fireplace. For a moment he lay there dazed, with Sybil's plump thigh clamping him to the floor and then her weight was removed and he rose dizzily to his knees, groping for his spectacles and conscious of Sybil standing directly over him and calling 'Jonquil!' at the top of her voice.}

^{"Don't, Sybil!" he said feebly, but Jonquil was already there and behind her Keith, both looking down at him with wonder while Sybil struggled into her flowered gown and seemed almost to be whimpering between breathless protests. He found his spectacles and put them on, glaring at the children who said nothing at all but just stood there looking down at him.}

^{"Get out!" he roared, "get to hell out of here, both of you!" and to his relief they fled, ignoring Sybil's "No! No! Don't leave me alone with him!"}

^{He got to his feet slowly, rubbing his ear where it had been creased against the carpet. Then he saw her cowering in the window alcove, holding her gown about her like a helpless woman facing a troop of licentious hussars. The sheer idiocy of the situation struck him like a blow from a swinging door.}

^{"Don't behave like a damned child, Sybil!" he grunted. "Be your age, can't you? I'm not going to hurt you, it was all in fun!" She almost choked with indignation.}