Ostrich Country

They drank their coffee, while all around them the first lawn-mowers of spring whirred, and above them aeroplanes came in towards London Airport bringing carefree foreigners, and over the road Mr Munsford lovingly touched up his repulsive topiary with a very special pair of clippers. Suddenly, in a brief gap between planes, Pegasus took the plunge.

‘I’m leaving my job,’ he said. ‘I’m going to be a chef.’

He was ashamed. The Shah of Persia would never have been so embarrassed about so minor a matter.

‘You can’t mean it,’ said his mother.

‘A chef?’ said Morley incredulously.

‘Good God,’ said Diana.

‘This is a bit late for April fools,’ said his father.

‘I’ve taken a job as vegetable chef in a hotel in Suffolk.’

‘It’s a bit of a waste of a good second in science, isn’t it?’ said Morley.

‘It’s my life.’

‘You had a good career at the institute,’ said his father. ‘Aren’t you a bit of a fool to give all that up?’

‘Mad,’ said Morley.

‘Shut up!’ said Diana.

‘I found it grotesque,’ said Pegasus.

He longed to pass overhead in one of those planes.

‘But the catering trade,’ said his mother, wrinkling the nose of her voice in disgust.

‘You make it sound so sordid,’ said Pegasus.

‘I think food’s a jolly good thing to go into,’ said Diana.

‘You aren’t as old as he is,’ said their mother.

‘And you’re a girl,’ said their father.

It began to pour, a sharp gusty shower. There was a general rush indoors with rapidly folded deck-chairs. The business section of the Sunday Times floated off towards Hillingdon. The rain, which George Baines had not forecast, had saved the situation.

They all disappeared, his father to finish some graphs, his mother to bake a cake, Morley to pack, Diana to go over to Ursula’s to do some French. Pegasus recognized this ploy. He was now expected to do the rounds and be lectured by each in turn. If he didn’t, they would all come to him.

He followed Diana up to her room.

‘Thanks, Di, for backing me up,’ he said. ‘You know it’s rather nice in here.’

‘Naturally.’

She was busy with her face.

‘You like to be at your loveliest when you do your French, do you?’

‘Of course.’

She came up to him with swift movements and kissed him on the lips with her round rather jolly face.

‘You’re a sweetie,’ she said, and then slapped him hard on the bottom and left the room without turning round. He watched her swinging aggressively up the road with her broad hips and slightly muscular white-stockinged Sunday afternoon in Uxbridge legs.

He went out into the corridor.

‘Is that you, Pegasus?’ called Morley.

He went into the bedroom which he shared with Morley when they were both at home.

‘You aren’t doing this on the spur of the moment, are you?’

‘You’re off duty now, Morley. I’m your brother, not a public issue.’

He slammed Morley’s door behind him.

‘Is that you, Pegasus?’ his father called.

His father was at the bedroom window, watching the rain.

‘Have you really thought this out, old chap?’ he said.

‘Of course,’ said Pegasus.

‘I wouldn’t like to feel you were wasting your life.’

‘Food isn’t wrong, you know, father.’

‘Well there you are, you see. Times change. Your mother and I can’t quite share your attitude to that. And it’s your mother I’m thinking of, Pegasus. This is a difficult time for her.’

‘Why?’

‘It just is. Take my word for it. Look at this dreadful rain, Pegasus.’

‘M’m.’

‘Well I’m sorry to be such a bore but that’s what parents are like. You’ll be one yourself one day.’

Pegasus went out on to the stairs without asking his father how he knew.

‘Is that you, Pegasus?’ said his mother.

She was busy in the kitchen with her mixture.