Michael thrust out his jaw a little and pulled in his belly.
The boys did not come back till luncheon was nearly ready.
‘Sorry we’re so late,’ said Roger.
‘There was a filthy crowd and we had to wait on nearly every tee.
We halved the match.’
They were hungry and thirsty, excited and pleased with themselves.
‘It’s grand having no one here today,’ said Roger.
‘I was afraid you’d got a whole gang coming and we’d have to behave like little gentlemen.’
‘I thought a rest would be rather nice,’ said Julia.
Roger gave her a glance.
‘It’ll do you good, mummy.
You’re looking awfully fagged.’ (‘Blast his eyes. No, I mustn’t show I mind. Thank God, I can act.’) She laughed gaily.
‘I had a sleepless night wondering what on earth we were going to do about your spots.’
‘I know, aren’t they sickening?
Tom says he used to have them too.’
Julia looked at Tom.
In his tennis shirt open at the neck, with his hair ruffled, his face already caught by the sun, he looked incredibly young.
He really looked no older than Roger.
‘Anyhow, his nose is going to peel,’ Roger went on with a chuckle.
‘He’ll look a sight then.’
Julia felt slightly uneasy.
It seemed to her that Tom had shed the years so that he was become not only in age Roger’s contemporary.
They talked a great deal of nonsense.
They ate enormously and drank tankards of beer. Michael, eating and drinking as sparingly as usual, watched them with amusement.
He was enjoying their youth and their high spirits.
He reminded Julia of an old dog lying in the sun and gently beating his tail on the ground as he looked at a pair of puppies gambolling about him.
They had coffee on the lawn.
Julia found it very pleasant to sit there in the shade, looking at the river.
Tom was slim and graceful in his long white trousers.
She had never seen him smoke a pipe before.
She found it strangely touching.
But Roger mocked him.
‘Do you smoke it because it makes you feel manly or because you like it?’
‘Shut up,’ said Tom.
‘Finished your coffee?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on then, let’s go on the river.’
Tom gave her a doubtful look.
Roger saw it.
‘Oh, it’s all right, you needn’t bother about my respected parents, they’ve got the Sunday papers.
Mummy’s just given me a racing punt.’ (‘I must keep my temper. I must keep my temper. Why was I such a fool as to give him a racing punt?’)
‘All right,’ she said, with an indulgent smile, ‘go on the river, but don’t fall in.’
‘It won’t hurt us if we do.
We’ll be back for tea.
Is the court marked out, daddy?
We’re going to play tennis after tea.’
‘I dare say your father can get hold of somebody and you can have a four.’
‘Oh, don’t bother. Singles are better fun really and one gets more exercise.’ Then to Tom. ‘I’ll race you to the boathouse.’
Tom leapt to his feet and dashed off with Roger in quick pursuit.
Michael took up one of the papers and looked for his spectacles.