B) Perchance, in a joke.

He liked to walk in restaurants, where, I suspect, drank quite a bit, and, it is necessary to acknowledge, I admired to those, how evilly it refuels a serviette for the collar of shirt, that in those times was considered bad tone. It was the unsurpassed teller of anecdotes to which, having a drink and getting a bite, began without every preamble usually, that an anecdote was perceived as history from the life. One such anecdote shocked me so that I memorized it for life. A scotsman (on youth of years to me was yet having no idea, that scotches are accepted to consider misers) led a wife in a restaurant. Ordered both steak. When meat was given, a wife has begun to eat with unbelievable speed, a husband did not even touch to the dish. “Do you dislike meat, sir?” - “No-no. I wait, when the teeth of wife” will be freed. I did not hear then about dental plates, and that is why represented vividly, as a husband tore out at a wife straight from gums the teeth and inserts them itself in a mouth. With me a grandfather spoke, only when greeted or said goodbye.

They were wealhty parents; their house and land were located in Trudged, in Surree, in the privileged district, then, to the year in thirtieth one, yet semirural, although already, probably, included in London as a result of riband development. Our house in Norberi, 16 was in the half-hour of ride on a bus from an old-fashioned mansion, half-way to London. The “Barchester mansion” was named, however on association with the Trollopa novel[2] it was named by no grandfather, and previous proprietor. In a house, as well as in every, to not even too well-off family of those years, servants were held, that did not interfere with Matron (By a mother, by analogy with Dad, nobody named it) to be a zealous hostess, whose thrift the legends walked about.

What only about it was not spoken! For example, that at mornings it abandoned only two matches to the maids. One - is credible, it reasoned, - to kindle gas, it can be missing - matches quite often break a secret, however much three would be the impermissible pyrotechnic banquet. For the economy of toilet paper Matron cut wrapping and packages remaining from the purchases in a grocery bench, on pieces and hung in a dressing-room on a hook, and, if to believe the uncle Presu, once in the morning it cut itself a bum by trimmings of sticking in such package of sandpaper, whatever I failed to beat in the one novel - to keep familial secrets an artist is not under an obligation. As I can not recall that us even one time, except for one-two christmas dinners, in “Barchestere” to anything helped, assume that Matron tried to host how it is possible rarer.

Dad was a glass-cutter, that is traded wholesale in wares from glass, including glass crockery, mainly that, from which drink, instead of do not eat, and, according to a father, long years, while did not begin to constrict it mass production, the matters of it went not bad. Traded Dad and unbreakable crockery - understands, not interpreted literally words, and is extraordinary durable; somebody explained to me, that durability of such crockery was achieved by the internal pull and whatever it will be broken up, if, say, to brush it from table on a carpet. From a slog it is broken up instantly, with the deafening slamming, growing into truhu rather, than in fragments. Like that as Dad began without every preface to tell an anecdote, it could in the evening unnoticed enter in a living room with a dish from unbreakable glass in a hand and, pretending to be, as though is going to give up it, to vyashemu amazement of going, at a floor, started it in a fire-place, where it burst suddenly, exactly it threw no dish in a fire, and hand-grenade. Dad remained is here quite imperturbable. Taking somehow from table one of the terrible dark-amber goblets, allegedly related to the epoch of I Yakov, easily moved to laughter this, restless, ridiculous manikin asked the important American client, whether does not want that koe at what to look. American, naturally, professed interest, then Dad walked up to the fire-place and reproduced the focus with a hand-grenade. It is desirable to think that this it brought in the modest contribution to the crash of the “Dg firm.-Дж. Emis and company” and, accordingly, - in the “Vulvort’s prosperity”.

Played a considerable role the Dad and then, when family tried to shut out or on a thin end spoil wedding of Gladys Emis - its daughter and my aunt - with the Harvard professor Foster Ralph, scientific, as I knew afterwards, very large. More than sixty years passed from this wedding, therefore for exactness of information I can not guarantee, however to me went down in memory that the last attempt to prevent their marriage was undertaken literally on the eve of wedding and by an initiator the Matron was rather, than Dad. Well I remember nevertheless, as in that fatal evening my parents, heeding to exhortations of the uncle Presa, left in “Barchester” with sombre faces, to persuade Dad (maybe, Matron) give up. As to Gladys went then already twenty the second year and it did not need in the official consent of parents, and Ralph was right to get married, on whom considers necessary, nothing, except for annoyance and grumblings, to the old men, clear business, did not remain, however at that time for the boy of my age in their conduct was not nothing reprehensible. Yet I was on the side of parents, and not at all grandfather with a grandmother. On some reason having no connection to none of my relatives on a separateness, to me seemed much more natural, that the uncle Pres with the aunt Poppi also support Gladys and Ralph.

Be that as it may be, virtue and judiciousness triumphed, wedding has taken place, and Foster well left to America. Alas, is very quick, only thirty six years of age, Ralph suddenly died from the break of heart straight on a baseball match (”Nerves!”), however by that time had time to bring into the world of two children, Bobby and Rosemary. (This history is retold in the ninth chapter of my novel “Old hrich”.) Bobby I, on my opinion, never saw in general, and Rosemary, when was it the years ten-twelve, has crossed an ocean with the mother; clever and charming, it however was yet too young and to my of that time sexual interests could not correspond.

In general, America as the American uncles, aunts and once removed sisters and brothers appeared in my life from babyhood, and, interested I in history of family, my impression, that the Emis’s majority emigrated to Virginia yet at the beginning of the nineteenth age, would get ponderable documentary confirmation. Went down in memory to me typical inhabitant of the South the uncle Tom (sic!), is credible cousin of grandfather, and cousin Uretta, whose wonderful name, as spoke, it was winnowed by some sleep. My grandmother it named the “aunt Ju” (in place of Julia), and it sounded very unusually.

On a paternal line I had two uncles - one bachelor other married, two aunts - one of them the same Gladys, to which it was fated soon to abandon us, and two cousins, on whom the list of agnates, actually, and was closed (I knew one, about existence of other guessed only). In spite of that Emis lived on insignificant distance from each other, we were seen infrequently, that in times, when a car for majority was rareness yet, - fact, perchance, not so and notable. The cadet of father the uncle Lesley was, perhaps, by unique my relative which is of interest for the man of letters. Since Dad conducted the last considerable experiment, dying from a heart attack (although then it was more than seventy already, talked that path on the next world to it the doctors shortened on the lackadaisical attitude), undertook Lesley the anxiety about Matron, and in concert and about that yet remained from the “G firm.-J. Emis and company”.

I was not too disordered, when G.-J. Emis went away from the life, thus in concert and from my, however much parents continued to make to call to Matron settling together with Lesley in Worlinghem, south of Trudged. I liked by Lesley, unique relative of senior generation, which professed to me the interest, and it is possible, and liking. This was the man of small growth, with the correct lines of person and thick, direct, dark, is always careful by the combed hairs. Herein I followed suit from it, whatever it, however, was even unaware about: to the hair-do and I and my coevals spared the promoted attention at that time. Growing up, I understood, what in essence it lived by the joyless life. Every day after work of Lesley was sent, getting off from a train, in pub opposite a house, where, before to appear before Matron with which it conducted all evenings, was handsomely pumped full by a beer. It happened that after a supper, if day not too exhausting was produced, it conveyed a mother in the same or in some other pub. As Matron did not wish or could not reach to the beerhouse, brought Lesley the goblets with port straight in a car; I do not know, true, it drank then together with a mother in a machine or came back in search of company in pub. A matron was enormous, frightening kind by a creature with a pilose person; it lived so long till about ninety years, causing at me such insuperable disgust and fear, what to Dad I did not test never.

But I was distracted. Although a mother fine made to jam and was never failed to make drunk the tea of batsmen, by above all its fascination, as well as at me in young years, there was reading; with a book it did not part just as with a bag or knitting. It did not love the classics, but also did not read “muri” also - among its favourite authors (some Philip Larkin recommended to it) were, how many I remember, Nora S. Dgeyms and the Bridg Ann. Although my calling with maternal passion to reading, possibly, in any way and it is unconnected, it, as, perhaps, no other, helped me to find itself. Helped those, that did not give me the birth of brother or sister, that limited the circle of my acquaintances, that was daughter the literature natural, that by a gloomy autumn day, when I must read there is resolutely nothing, hinted (it is convinced, without every back thought) that I have written anything “such”. In spite of “shaky” nerves and weak heart, a mother was a woman living, sociable. It liked to laugh, to smoke out a cigarette, to have a drink of jin a with a tonic (no more two wineglasses) and, alas, did not refuse to itself in the “Key-Stone or “Big-Tree” goblet”, supposing, that there is iron in guilt. At the same time this sociable, tender creation was capable on a great deal. In fact this it, when my first wife became pregnant to marriage, said to the father, that did not play the fool and leave off to threaten to me by an anathema; this it convinced my future father-in-law and not to boycott mother-in-law our wedding ceremony. A mother, in a word, was the first in the frightening long row of people which I managed to appreciate and to which truly gave due only now that they are not already present in living.

It in 1957 died - from a blow. When we with Hilli entered in a little cottage on a Shrublands avenue in Berkampstead, the type of the father placed in loneliness seemed to us by something ridiculous, wild. “How is that?” - for much time in succession it inquired and did not get an answer. Afterwards, going out on a pension, it moved to us, in Swansee. And as differently? And certainly we brought it along with itself, when departed to America, where two years stayed, 1958th and 1959th. In Swansee to the father it lived not bad, however to do to it was there is quite nothing, and, although earlier it often was at us together with a mother, acquaintances of its age at it did not appear. I saw that it painfully tries at mornings to occupy itself: walks to go for a walk or embusses and rides in a center, buys “Daily telegraph” and, calling in a cafe, unravels a cross-word to the extent of the capabilities, after goes in pub, where in complete loneliness drinks glass of light ale, back to dinner goes home and all remain of day toils from idleness. Some time it existed so, however after, referring to the necessity to shop around, left to London.

It is pleasant and touching was to hear such from it. And meantime living to it remained not long. At it was opened - so, at least, it thought or pretended that thought, - ulcer of intestine, which on a check appeared by an incurable cancer. An end came very quickly: On March, 25, 1963 a father wrote me with the clear, beautiful hand a merry letter, in which thanked for that I laid down it in a hospital in Cambridge, where I then taught yet. And it died on April, 18, leaving that little, that was at it, one of the friends, not only renouncing to divide its modest property with us, but in addition demanding, that we returned it a paternal clock and pocket-book, which Hilly passed Philip and Martin. That is why from a father I had only this last letter, and from a mother - in general nothing.

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