‘Father’s car is up – we’ll call for you.’
‘Delightful!’ said Winifred. ‘Has your father got a grey top hat? No? Oh! But he simply must wear one; they’re all the go this year. Don’t say anything, just get him one. He wears seven-and–a-quarter; and, dear, tell them to heat the hat and squash it in at the sides – otherwise they’re always too round for him. And he needn’t bring any money to speak of; Jack will do all our betting for us.’
Fleur thought that it was not likely father would have a bet; he had said he just wanted to see what the thing was like.
‘He’s so funny about betting,’ said Winifred, ‘like your grandfather.’
Not that it had been altogether funny in the case of James, who had been called on to pay the racing debts of Montague Dartie three times over.
With Soames and Winifred on the back seats, Fleur and Imogen on the front seats, and Jack Cardigan alongside Riggs, they took a circuitous road by way of Harrow to avoid the traffic, and emerged into it just at the point where for the first time it became thick. Soames, who had placed his grey top hat on his knee, put it on, and said:
‘Just like Riggs!’
‘Oh no, Uncle!’ said Imogen. ‘It’s Jack’s doing. When he’s got to go through Eton, he always likes to go through Harrow first.’
‘Oh! Ah!’ said Soames. ‘He was there. I should like Kit’s name put down.’
‘How nice!’ said Imogen. ‘Our boys will have left when he goes. You look so well in that hat, Uncle.’
Soames took it off again.
‘White elephant,’ he said. ‘Can’t think what made Fleur get me the thing!’
‘My dear,’ said Winifred, ‘it’ll last you for years. Jack’s had his ever since the war. The great thing is to prevent the moth getting into it, between seasons. What a lot of cars! I do think it’s wonderful that so many people should have the money in these days.’
The sight of so much money flowing down from town would have been more exhilarating to Soames if he, had not been wondering where on earth they all got it. With the coal trade at a standstill and factories closing down all over the place, this display of wealth and fashion, however reassuring, seemed to him almost indecent.
Jack Cardigan, from his front seat, had been explaining a thing he called the ‘tote’. It seemed to be a machine that did your betting for you. Jack Cardigan was a funny fellow; he made a life’s business of sport; there wasn’t another country that could have produced him! And, leaning forward, Soames said to Fleur:
‘You’re not got a draught there?’
She had been very silent all the way, and he knew why. Ten to one if young Jon Forsyte wouldn’t be at Ascot! Twice over at Mapledurham he had noticed letters addressed by her to:
‘Mrs Val Dartie,
Wansdon,
Sussex.’
She had seemed to him very fidgety or very listless all that fortnight. Once, when he had been talking to her about Kit’s future, she had said: ‘I don’t think it matters, Dad, whatever one proposes – he’ll dispose; parents don’t count now: look at me!’
And he had looked at her, and left it at that.
He was still contemplating the back of her head when they drew into an enclosure and he was forced to expose his hat to the public gaze. What a crowd! Here, on the far side of the course, were rows of people all jammed together, who, so far as he could tell, would see nothing, and be damp one way or another throughout the afternoon. If that was pleasure! He followed the others across the course, in front of the grandstand. So those were ‘the bookies’! Funny lot, with their names ‘painted clearly on each’, so that people could tell them apart, just as well, for they all seemed to him the same, with large necks and red faces, or scraggy necks and lean faces, one of each kind in every firm, like a couple of music-hall comedians. And, every now and then, in the pre-racing hush, one of them gave a sort of circular howl and looked hungrily at space. Funny fellows! They passed alongside the Royal Enclosure where bookmakers did not seem to be admitted. Numbers of grey top hats there! This was the place – he had heard – to see pretty women. He was looking for them when Winifred pressed his arm.
‘Look, Soames – the Royal Procession!’
Thus required to gape at those horse-drawn carriages at which everybody else would be gaping, Soames averted his eyes, and became conscious that Winifred and he were alone!
‘What’s become of the others?’ he said.
‘Gone to the paddock, I expect.’
‘What for?’
‘To look at the horses, dear.’