Barbara Pym - No Fond Return of Love

PERENNIAL LIBRARY

Harper & Row, Publishers New York, Cambridge, Philadelphia, San Francisco London, Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Singapore, Sydney

A hardcover edition of this book was first published in Great Britain in 1961 by Jonathan Cape Ltd. and in the United States in 1982 by E. E Dutton, Inc. It is here reprinted by arrangement with E. P Dutton, Inc.

no fond return of love. Copyright 1961 by Barbara Pym. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address E. P Dutton, Inc., Two Park Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10016.

First perennial library edition published 1984. Reissued in 1986.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Pym, Barbara.

No fond return of love.

Perennial Library.

Reprint. Originally published : Dutton, cl961. I. Title.

[PR6066.Y58N6 1986] 823.914 83-48377 ISBN 0-06-097043-X (pbk.)

86 87 88 89 90 MPC 10 987654321

To

Hazel Holt

BARBARA PYM

THERE ARE various ways of mending a broken heart, but perhaps going to a learned conference is one of the more unusual.

When Dulcie Mainwaring realized that her fiance did not want to marry her after all or that he was not worthy of her love, as he put it she endured several months of quiet misery before she felt able to rouse herself from this state. When the notice of the conference came, it seemed to be just the kind of thing that was recommended for women in her position an opportunity to meet new people and to amuse herself by observing the lives of others, even if only for a week-end and under somewhat unusual circumstances.

For what could be more peculiar than a crowd of grown-up people, most of them middle-aged or even elderly, collected together in a girls boarding school in Derbyshire for the purpose of discussing scholarly niceties that meant nothing to most of the world? Even the rooms fortunately they were not to be crowded into dormitories seemed unnatural, with their twin iron bedsteads and the prospect of strange companions at such close quarters.

Dulcie began to speculate on who hers would be, and looked forward to her entry for surely the room-mate would be female? with some apprehension. But at least it would be interesting, she told herself bravely, to share a room with a stranger, and when she heard footsteps coming along the corridor, she braced herself and wondered what they would say to each other when the door opened. But the footsteps went past and stopped a little further on. Then, looking again at the second bed, she noticed that it seemed suspiciously flat, and when she lifted the cover she saw that it was not made up. She was at once relieved and disappointed. When she had plucked up enough courage, she would go and see who was in the room next door.

It had been a mistake to come. Viola Dace realized that now, as she looked round the little cell-like room in dismay which approached panic when she saw that there was a second bed, covered like her own with a white honeycomb quilt. So she might have to share this miserable room with an unknown person the idea was insupportable! Cautiously she lifted a corner of the quilt to see if the bed was made up; to her relief it was not, for underneath were only a pillow in a striped ticking cover and a pile of grey blankets. At least, then, she was to have the room to herself, and it might just be possible to endure it for three nights.

She lit a cigarette and leaned out of the window. There was a fine display of dahlias in a border below her, apples and pears hung heavily on the trees, and in the distance moors stretched away to hills and what was apparently the world outside and freedom.

There was a light tap on the door and Viola turned round, startled, saying Come in rather sharply. She saw a rather tall woman in her early thirties, with a pleasant face and fair hair, standing on the threshold. She wore a tweed suit and brogued shoes which looked too heavy for her thin legs.

Already halfway to being a dim English spinster, Viola thought, conscious of herself making a contrast in her black dress, with her pale, rather haggard face and untidy dark hair.

Im Dulcie Mainwaring, said the fair-haired woman. My room seems to be next to yours. I wondered if we might go down to dinner together?

If you like, said Viola rather ungraciously. My names Viola Dace, by the way. What does one do and wear?

I suppose nobody really knows, said Dulcie. It might be like the first night on board ship when nobody changes for dinner. I believe its the first time a conference of this sort has been held here. I know they have religious bodies, and writers, too, I believe. I suppose were writers, in a way.

Yes, we might call ourselves that. Viola had taken out her lipstick and was applying it almost savagely, as if she were determined to make herself look as unlike somebody who worked on the dustier fringes of the academic world as possible.

Dulcie gazed fascinated at the result, but the brilliant coral-coloured mouth in the sallow face certainly looked bizarre and striking, and made her slightly dissatisfied with her own careful natural make-up.

Its an unusual idea having a conference of people like us, said Dulcie. Do we all correct proofs, make bibliographies and indexes, and do all the rather humdrum thankless tasks for people more brilliant than ourselves?

She seemed to dwell on the words almost with relish, Viola thought, as if she were determined to create an impression of the utmost dreariness.

Oh, my life isnt at all like that, she said quickly. Ive been doing research of my own and Ive already started a novel. Ive really come here because I know one of the lecturers and

She hesitated, the feeling of dismay rising up in her again, for surely it had been a mistake to come. This worthy Miss Mainwaring, whom one could just imagine doing all the dreary things she had described, was not, however, the kind of person in whom she would dream of confiding.

I just do odd jobs and make indexes, said Dulcie cheerfully. I found it better to work at home when my mother was ill, and I havent really thought of taking a full-time job since she died.

A bell began to toll, which seemed to Viola to add to the gloomy feeling Dulcie had given her.

That must be dinner, she said. Shall we go down? It would surely be possible to shake her off some time during the evening.

Aylwin Forbes lifted a flat half-bottle of gin out of his suitcase from among the folds of his pyjamas, where it had travelled safely from London to this remote Derbyshire village. He placed it first of all on the dressing-table, but it did not look right with his yeast tablets and stomach powder and hair tonic, so, as there was no other cupboard, it had to go in the wardrobe after all that traditional, if rather shameful, hiding place for bottles.

The other important item in his luggage the notes for the lecture he was to give on Some problems of an editor he placed on the chair by his bed.

Then he noticed that there was, in fact, a small cupboard above the washbasin, presumably intended for medicines, so he took the bottle of gin out of the wardrobe and put it in the cupboard. A thought occurred to him, and he wondered if the servants were honest, imagining one of them lifting the gin bottle to her lips and taking a quick swig as she did his room in the morning. Well, he would have to risk that, he decided, and put the gin with the yeast tablets and the stomach powder in the little cupboard; but he could not decide where he was likely to be when he was using the hair lotion, so he left that on the dressing-table. He next took up the lecture notes from the chair by the bed and placed them on the dressing-table by his brushes and Florentine leather stud box.