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56 From the Cradie to the Grave now on? lfso, how? From the point of view of their relationship, dues it in fact matter whether there was a real lover or not? LANGUAGE FOCUS 1 Find all the vocabulary and expressions in the story that show 2 + George Peregrine as a typical, very conventional country gentleman + Evie as a woman who is no longer young or attractive. Rephrase these colloquial expressions in your own words: Did lt cost yon a packet? (p37) Pee half a mind to do it (p37) 1 dont think that's your cup of tea (p38) Selling like hot cakes (p38) Hot stuff (p39) Come off it (p39) 1 amust bole (p40) 1 must watch my step (p48) Al that's a bit above my head (p53) T's no good crying over spilt milk (p54) ACTIVITIES 1 Tmagine that George did not take Heary Blaue's advice, but went straight home to find out the truth from Evie, Write a new ending for the story. Does Evie decide to leave George, or do they agree to forget the past and stay together? Imagine that you are a journalist from a “gossip' magazine, and are interyiewing George. Try to find out if George does in fact believe his wife had a love affair. George, having decided to follow Henry Blanes advicc, tries hard to pretend that he doesn't helieve dialogue between George and the journalist, Write the Write a review of Trie's book for a Sheffield newspaper, mentioniag that she is a local author. Mas BIXBY AND THE COLONEL's CoarT THE AUTHOR Roald Dahbs parents were Norwegian, but he was born in Wales in 1916. He joined an expedirion to explore Newfoundland, then worked for an oil company. He served in the Royal Air-Force during the Second World War, and then in Intelligence. He started writing short stories, at first on flying themes, in 1942. His collections of short stories, Someone Like You, Kiss Kiss, and Tales of the Unexpected have been translated into many languages and are bestsellers all over the world. His storyrelling is bizarre, alarming, and disrurbing, always with a nasty sting in the tail. Flis childrea"s books are also very popular. Ile died in Tue Srory The institution of marriage always arouses strong opinions, Some writers see it as the ideal state for true love, some as a prison, others as a state of war, a never-ending batde of wits between husband and wife. “The one charm of marriage”, wrote Oscar Wilde, “is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties,? According to the narrator, marriage in North America provides a marvellous opportunity for women to enjoy themselves, w their unforrunate husbands slave away to pay their bills, Does the poor husband ever find out that his wife is deceiving him? Mrs Bixby is confident that Mr Bixby has no idea at all what really happens on her regular trips to Baltimore . Mks BIXBY AND THE COLONEL's CoarT merica is the land of opportunities for women. Already they Aza about cighty-five per cent of the wealth of the nation. Soon they will have it all. Divorce has become a lucrative process, simple to arrange and easy to forget; and ambitious females can repear it as often as they please and parlay their winnings to astronómica! figures. The husband's death also brings satisfactory rewards and some ladies prefer to rely upon this method. They know that the waiting period will not be unduly protracted, for overwork and hypertension are bound to get the poor devil before lung, and he will die at his desk with a bortle of benzedrines in one hand and a packet of tranquillizers in the other. Succeeding generations of youthful American males ate not deterred in the slightest by this terrifying pattern of divorce and death. The higher the divorce rate climbs, the more eager they become. Young men marty like mice, almost before they have reached the age of puberty, and a large proportion of them have at least rwo ex-wives on the payroll by the time they are thirty-six years old. To support these ladies in the manner to which they are accustomed, the men must work like slaves, which is of course precisely what they are. But now at last, as they approach their premature middle age, a sense of disillusionment and fear begins to creep slowly into their hearts, and in the evenings they take to huddling together in litrle groups, in clubs and bars, drinking their whiskies and swallowing their pills, and trying to comfort one another with stories, The basic theme of these storivs never varies. There are always three main characters — the husband, the wife, and the dirty dog. 62 From the Cradle to the Grave was altogether a rather remarkable woman, a person of subrle and exotic talents, fascinating beyond measure; and what a very different thing thar was from the dentist husband at home who never succecded in making her feel that she was anything but a sort of etermal patient, someone who dwelt in the waiting-room, silent among the magazines, seldom if ever nowadays to be called in to suffer the finicky precise ministrations of those clean pink hands. “The Colonel asked me to give you this” a voice beside her said. She turned and saw Wilkins, the ColonePs groom, a small wizened dwarf with grey skin, and he was pushing a large flatrish cardboard box into her arms. “Good gracious met* she cried, all of a flutter. “My heavens, what an enormous box! What is it, Wilkins? Was there a message? Did he send me a message? “No message, the groom said, and he walked away. As soon as she was on the train, Mrs Bixby carried the box into the privacy of the Ladies” Room and locked the door, How exciting this was! A Christmas present from the Colonel. She started to undo the string. Til bet ivs a dress? she said aloud. Tr mighr even be two dresses. Or it might be a whole lot of beautiful underclothes. L won't look. Fl just feel around and try to guess what it is. Pl try to guess the colour as well, and exactly whar it looks like. Also how much it cost.” She shut her eyes tight and slowly lifted off the lid. Then she put one hand down into the box. There was some tissue paper on top; she could feel it and hear it rustling. There was also an envelope or a card of some sort. She ignored this and began burrowing underneath the tissue paper, the fingers reaching out delicately, like tendrils. “My God,” she cried suddenly. “lt can't be true? She opened her eyes wide and stared at the coat. Then she Mrs Bixby and tbe Colonel's Coat 63 pounced on it and lifted it out of the box. Thick layers of fur made a lovely noise against the tissue paper as they unfolded, and when she held it up and saw it hanging to ¡ts full lengrh, it was so beautiful it rook her breath away. Never had she seen mink like this before, lt 10as mink, wasn't it? Yes, of course it was. But what a glorious colour! The fur was almost pure black. At first she thought it was black; but when she held it closer to the window she saw that there was a touch of blue in it as well, a deep rich blue, like cobalt, Quickly she looked at the label. It said simply, WILD LABRADOR MINK. There was nothing else, no sign of where it had been bought or anything. But that, she told herself, was probably the Colonel's doing. The wily old fox was making darn sure he didr't leave any tracks. Good for him. But what in the world could ir have cost? She hardly dared to think. Four, five, six thousand dollars? Possibly more. She just couldmt take her eyes off it. Nor, for that matter, could she wait to try it on. Quickly she slipped off her own plain red coat. She was panting a little now, she couldrt help it, and her eyes were stretched very wide, But oh God, the feel of that fur! And those huge wide sleeves with their thick turned-up cufés! Who was it had once told her that they always used female skins for the arms and the male skins for the rest of thc coat? Someone had told her that. Joan Rutfield, probably; though how Joax would kuow anything about mink she couldn't imagine. The great black coat seemed to slide on ro her almost of its own accord, like a second skin. Oh boy! Ir was the queerest feeling! She glanced into the mirror. lt was fantastic. Her whole personality had suddenly changed completely. She looked dazzling, radiant, rich, brilliant, voluptuans, all at the same time. And the sense of power that it gave her! In this coat she From the Cradle to the Grave could walk into any place she wanted and people would come scurrying around her like rabbits. The whole thing was just to0 wonderful for words! Mas Bixby picked up the envelope that was still lying in the box. She opened it and pulled out the Colonel's letter: L once heard you saying you were fond of mink so I got you this. Pm told it's a good one. Please acecpt it with my sincere good wishes as a parting git. For my own personal reasons 1 shall not be able to see you any more. Goodbye and good fuck. Well! Imagine that! Right our of the blue, just when she was feeling so happ No more Colonel. What a dreadful shock, She would miss him enormously. Slowly, Mrs Bixby began stroking the lovely soft black fur of the coat. What you lose an the swings you get back on the roundabouts. She smiled and folded the letter, meaning to tear it up and throw it one of the window, but in folding it she noticed that there . was something written on the other side: Ps. Just tell them that nice generous aunt of yours gave it to you. for Christmas. Mas Bixby's mouth, ac that moment stretched wide in a silky smile, snapped back like a piece of elastic. “The man must be mad!” she cricd. “Aunt Mande doesn't have that sort of money. She cuuldnt possibly give me this. But if Aunt Maude didn't give it to her, then whe did? Oh Godl In the excitement of finding the coat and trying it on, she had completely overlooked this vital aspect. A RA mina Mrs Bixby and the Colonel's Coat 65 In a couple of hours she would be in New York. Ten minutes after that she would be home, and the husband would be there to greet her; and even a man like Cyril, dwelling as he did in a dark phlegmy world of root canals, bicuspids, and caries”, would start asking a few questions if his wife suddenly waltzed in from a weekend wearing a six-thousand-dollar mink coat, You know what I think, she told herself. 1 think that goddam Colonel has done this on purpose just to torture me, He knew perfectly well Aunt Mande didn't have enough money to buy this. He knew 1 wouldn't be able to keep it. Ñ But the thought of parting with it 1ow was more than Mrs Bixby could bear. “Dye got to have this coat!” she said aloud. Pve gor to have this coat! Pye got to have this coat! Very well, my dear. You shall have the coat. But don't panic. Sit srill and keep calm and start thinking. You're a clever girl, aren't you? You've fooled him before. The man never has been able to see much further than the end af his own probe, you know that. So just sit absolutely still and think. There's lors of time. Two and a half hours later, Mes Bixby stepped off the train at Pennsylvania Station and walked quickly to the exit, She was wearing her old red coat again now and carrying the cardboard box in her arms. She signalled for a taxi. “Driver,” she said, “would you know of a pawnbroker that's still open around here? The man behind the wheel raised his brows and looked back at her, amused. *Plenty along Sixth Avenue, he answered. “Stop at the first one you see, then, will you please? She got in and was driven away. Soon the taxi pulled up outside a shop thar had three brass balls hanging over the entrance. 68 From tbe Cradle to the Grave Mrs Bixby and the Colonel's Coat 69 a help if you want to sell thc ticket. Yon never know, you might want to sell ir sometime.” “T dor't want to sell it “You might have to, Lots of people do.” “Look, Mrs Bixby said. Tim not broke, ifthaP's what you mean. 1 simply lost my purse. Don't you understand?” “You have it your own way then, the man said, ['s your coat? Ar this moment an unpleasane thought struck Mrs Bixby. “Tell me something, she said. “If 1 dont have a description on my ticket, how can 1 be sure yowl give me back the coar and nor something else when 1 return?” “E goes in the books.” But all Pve got is a number. So actually you could hand me any old thing you wanted, is1t that so?” “Do you want a description or don't you? the man asked. “No, she said. 1 trust you.” The man wrote “fifty dollars* opposite the word vALUE on both sections of the tickct, then he tore it in half along the perforations and slid the lower portion across the counter. He took a wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and extracted five ten-dollar bilis. The interest is three per cent a month,” he said. “Yes, all righe. And thank you. YowIl take good care of it, won't you? The man nodded but said nothing. “Shall E pat it back in the box for you?” “No,” the man said. Mrs Bixby turned and went out of the shop on to the street where the taxi was waiting. Ten minutes later, she was home. “Darling, she said as she bent over and kissed her husband. “Did yon miss me?* Cyril Bixby laid down the evening paper and glanced at the Em npoerzeó watch on his wrist. T's twelve and a half minutes past six,” he said. Yowre a bit late, aren't yon?” T know. Is those dreadful trains. Aunt Maude sent you her love as usual. Pm dying for a drink, aren't you?” The husband folded his newspaper into a near rectangle and placed ir on the arm of his chair. Then he stood up and crossed over to the sideboard. His wife remained in the centre of the zoom pulling off her loves, watching him
