Before the War Read Online Free PDF

this and fell upon the novel with delight. Not only had the book been written by Mungo Bolt, the mysterious but jovial man who had called by their nursery when they were small, bearing gifts (rocking horses, dolls’ houses, train sets – Mallory would engineer the most magnificent collisions), but it contained their only description of the woman they now knew to be their mother. Everyone seemed all too happy to forget Vivien – especially Adela. Any detailed description of her, ‘Giantess’ or not, was precious. At least it was confirmation that the Dwarf was indeed their father. In their young years they’d rather thought it must be Mungo who’d always brought such good presents over the years, better than Sherwyn’s: exciting dolls’ houses not boring rugs, glittery diamonds not tasteful pearls.
    The Dwarf prided himself on maintaining an air of amused insouciance through all adversity, and when the Giantess made her outrageous proposal of marriage he did what he could to keep his face straight and preserve an air of equanimity. The Giantess was obviously unhinged or ill, or perhaps the victim of some sexual obsession that Freud would have something interesting to say about. The obvious thing to do was humour her. There might even be a way of turning this unexpected and uncomfortable situation to his advantage.
    But unexpected events could all too easily lead to disaster. The Dwarf had already had his fill of them. His sister had been the victim of an incestuous assault by their uncle, his parents divorcing as a result; the arrival of a stepmother with a face like a horse had put an end to his hopes of inheritance. His dwarfish mind raced through alarming possibilities. Perhaps this was a Potiphar’s wife scenario? If he rejected the boss’s daughter she might cry rape and have him carried off to prison. Such things happened. Whatever her motives the utmost prudence was required. This over-tall, over-forward, singularly unattractive young person was in a position of power. Her story would be believed.
    Yet she spoke composedly. She did not seem insane. Had something happened a fellow might have forgotten? He had got drunk at the last office party but surely not to the extent of losing his memory. The Giantess was not the kind one would casually flirt with. One would have to go on tiptoe to as much as kiss her. Office life had its temptations and its scandals – and a chap had had his fair share of amiable and passing office encounters – but nothing that could add up to an expectation of marriage.
    Yet when the Giantess assured the Dwarf that she was making a business proposition rather than a declaration of love, and that she was without erotic intent, the Dwarf had felt vaguely disappointed. A man likes to be pursued. Though he had his pride and was hardly going to stand at the altar with someone who towered above him; that would be too ludicrous. But what was this about a business proposition?
    ‘I am not a monster,’ the Giantess was assuring him, ‘though I think you see me as such; I am tall, but would not be out of the ordinary had I been born a boy.’
    The Dwarf refrained from saying the problem was that she had not been. Priding himself as ever on his ability to charm he merely said, ‘I am of course deeply flattered. But why me?’
    ‘Because it is in your interests to agree. You are a writer. All writers need rich wives, at any rate my father tells me this is the case. He is a publisher. He should know. My wealth comes from my mother’s side – on my 20 th birthday I came into a not inconsiderable fortune: I inherited a small but prosperous mountain town in Bavaria.’ He did not disbelieve her: it sounded so absurd it was probably true. ‘I will pay off your debts: you are a gambler and a womaniser: I imagine you are on the verge of bankruptcy. You can scarcely afford the shoes on your own feet. The soles are on the verge of flapping loose. Marry me, and you will dress like a dandy and dine