Остаток дня / The Remains of the Day - стр. 37
‘I have come here to relate something to you, Father.’
Then relate it briefly and concisely. I haven’t all morning to listen to you chatter.’
‘In that case. Father, I will come straight to the point.’
‘Come to the point then and be done with it. Some of us have work to be getting on with.’
Very well. Since you wish me to be brief, I will do my best to comply. The fact is, Father has become increasingly infirm. So much so that even the duties of an under-butler are now beyond his capabilities. His lordship is of the view, as indeed I am myself, that while Father is allowed to continue with his present round of duties, he represents an ever-present threat to the smooth running of this household, and in particular to next week’s important international gathering.’
My father’s face, in the half-light, betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
‘Principally,’ I continued, ‘it has been felt that Father should no longer be asked to wait at table, whether or not guests are present.’
‘I have waited at table every day for the last fifty-four years,’ my father remarked, his voice perfectly unhurried.
‘Furthermore, it has been decided that Father should not carry laden trays of any sort for even the shortest distances. In view of these limitations, and knowing Father’s esteem for conciseness, I have listed here the revised round of duties he will from now on be expected to perform.’
I felt disinclined actually to hand to him the piece of paper I was holding, and so put it down on the end of his bed. My father glanced at it then returned his gaze to me. There was still no trace of emotion discernible in his expression, and his hands on the back of the chair appeared perfectly relaxed. Hunched over or not, it was impossible not to be reminded of the sheer impact of his physical presence – the very same that had once reduced two drunken gentlemen to sobriety in the back of a car. Eventually, he said:
‘I only fell that time because of those steps. They’re crooked. Seamus should be told to put those right before someone else does the same thing.’
‘Indeed. In any case, may I be assured Father will study that sheet?’
‘Seamus should be told to put those steps right. Certainly before these gentlemen start arriving from Europe.’
‘Indeed. Well, Father, good morning.’
That summer evening referred to by Miss Kenton in her letter came very soon after that encounter – indeed, it may have been the evening of that same day. I cannot remember just what purpose had taken me up on to the top floor of the house to where the row of guest bedrooms line the corridor. But as I think I have said already, I can recall vividly the way the last of the daylight was coming through each open doorway and falling across the corridor in orange shafts. And as I walked on past those unused bedrooms, Miss Kenton’s figure, a silhouette against a window within one of them, had called to me.