Page 103 of An Invitation to the Kennedys
At breakfast the ambassador announced, with a great show of regret, that he ‘… must leave.Urgent business requires me in London,’ he said, eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ Doris said.Honor had been right, she thought.
‘You’ll stay for lunch?’Chips asked hopefully.
‘I’m afraid I can’t.’The flat ‘a’ was more pronounced than usual.He sounded, she thought, thoroughly American.
‘But Mrs Ambassador and Kathleen will stay a little longer?A few more days?’
‘We must all go.’Kennedy was firm in the face of Chips’ pleas, and finally, Chips had to settle for a promise of a night in London soon: ‘Theatre and a late supper,’ he said, already starting to plan.
The weather had broken without fanfare and the day was grey and drizzly.Doris retreated to the library after breakfast, hoping to see no one until Honor came down.She sat in the corner with the best light and started a piece about the failure of Lord Runciman’s mission to Czechoslovakia, but didn’t get on well with it.She thought of Albert, late at night, his face half-visible in the light of a thin candle.The stable block had no electricity yet.She thought of all her carefully artless questions – what did he think of England?Did he miss Germany?– and the blandness of his answers that suggested a dull mind.Or deliberate dissembling.Which was it?How he had asked his own questions – equally artless – and the studied dullness of her answers.
She almost laughed: two people, so very careful in their carelessness.It had been a relief when dawn had arrived.It was a relief now when Kick came in.
‘Am I interrupting?’the girl said, standing half in, half out of the doorway.
‘Not if you make up your mind to come in or go out,’ Doris said with a smile.
‘Well, I’ll come in then,’ Kick said.‘If that’s OK?’
‘Are you pleased to be going back to London?’
‘Yes.’Kick sat on the arm of a chair, swinging her bare legs.She wore a green summer dress and a white cardigan.Her legs were brown and freckled and strong.‘It’s been an interesting visit, that’s for sure.’
‘Interesting?That bad?’Doris asked with a smile.
‘I learned some things,’ Kick said.‘And no, they weren’t terribly nice.’
‘What things?’
‘That my father will always do what suits him, even when he knows it will be hard on us.But I suppose I knew that already.And that being Catholic here is different to what it is back in America.’
‘How?’
‘There are the ones, like Diana and Mosley, who behave as though being Catholic is like a game, kind of silly really.And then there are the ones like Billy’s parents, who behave as if it’s a secret society and not a very nice one.As though there is something dark and a little bit … unsavoury about us.I just don’t know why it’s such a big deal here.But it’s pretty rough weather, being despised for something that isn’t anything you’ve done, but only what youare.’
‘It is,’ Doris agreed.‘Hard, but not at all unusual.’
‘You know, I said that very same thing, almost anyway, to Brigid, and she looked embarrassed, saidNo one could despise you, darling, and changed the subject,’ Kick said, swinging her legs harder.
Doris laughed.‘That sounds like Biddy alright.Don’t be cross; she doesn’t mean anything except that she doesn’t know what to say, because she can’t really imagine what you’re talking about.With the Guinnesses, it goes the other way, you know.They are admired, not always for what they do, but for what they are.Do you want to tell me more?’
‘Somehow, I feel that I do,’ Kick said.‘You were the only one to stick up for us, when all that awful mess happened, with Duff …’ She moved her legs around and allowed herself to fall into the armchair.‘I wish you’d been there when Billy’s parents visited.MaybeMoucher’ – she said the name with heavy inflection – ‘wouldn’t have looked at me as though I were something strange and unpleasant.A train running late.How is it you know what to say?’
‘I know this story.I’ve heard it before.I’ve watched it and listened to it.And been part of it.’
‘You?’Kick asked, astonished.‘Buteveryoneis in love with you.’She sounded wistful.
Doris smiled.‘Not a bit of it, they aren’t, although some might pretend or even believe it for a little while.But yes, me.’
‘How?Why?You’re not Catholic.Are you?’she asked hopefully.
‘No.Jewish.’
‘I see.’By the long pause that followed Doris thought that, yes, she did see.
‘And so I know all about the prejudices of this lot.’She gave an unhappy smile.‘Only I refuse to take them to heart.’
