Free The Finishing Touch by Brigid Brophy

to be dressed wholly in juniper leaves (with, here and there, a berry) one’s mind naturally wished … One would like, bref, tolay hands on her—just to make her all of a piece … to re-dress, perhaps, those two long locks (il lui faut une coiffure qui aille avec) …
    Or was it not (lasse that I am of sophistication ) the natural, the indeed horticultural, coiffure of Regina Outre-Mer which drew the eye?
    Perhaps: well,—soon. Antonia turned (one could not always be playing) to her Sunday devoir, shook out her newspaper and—sat, médusée.
    The entire front page was giving to a photograph of Antonia apparently kissing—just above the bosom—royalty.
    Naufrage.
    ‘Étrange Affection entre Professeur et Élève’, said the gross black headline.
    Étrange it would have been indeed, had it existed.
    It was not hard to trace the trajectory (the word: could bullets have done worse?) of the shot to Eugénie Plash’s window.
    ‘Hetty——’ No: futile to enquire whether Sylvie Plash had handed in her camera. Obviously, she had not. One did not wish one’s conversation, even in extremities, to be obvious.
    Étrange Affection entre … He was, in his way, this sub-editor, classical: ‘Embrassez-moi pour l’amour du grec.’ (At least one had neverwasted one’s time trying to teach royalty Greek. )
    Embrassez-moi … Ah, Regina, Regina …
    Quelle folie.
    What, then, to do?
    Nothing. Nothing to do. Nothing to be done.
    (One might—opportunity now lost for ever—have taught Regina Greek. A few poems of Sappho, perhaps? …)
    At least the horrible child had focussed the appareil quite well (fortunate that one had not, in effect, progressed very far from the house: the child was, after all, only an amateur). One had been caught ( caught! ) in—that so tender stoop—a not unbecoming attitude.
    But even that … (Regina, Regina.)

XI

     
    ‘I SAY . Get me some background on this Mount woman, will you?’
    ‘Right. I’ll look through the files.’
    ‘Won’t be in the files. You’ll have to tap the old boy network.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Find out if she’s that kind of woman .’
    ‘Right you are. If she’s communist, you mean?’
    ‘No, no, no, no, no’ (agacé).
     *
    The Canard Enchâiné reproduced the photograph , much smaller (less becoming: something of distinction was lost) with the comment
    ‘Mâitresse d’école?’
     *
    ‘Got it?’
    ‘I’ll say .’
    ‘Well look. Let me have the salient facts in memorandum form.’
    ‘I don’t know that I can write them down .’
     *
    The Palace, as it turned out, waited for no memoranda. They telephoned immediately (‘Miss Mount is not available. She is indisposed ’): orders had been radioed to Commander Curl; he was to come, in person, at once; let, meanwhile, royalty’s thirty-one bags be packed.

XII

     
    ‘M Y BELOVED ’ (twenty-three bags had been packed) ‘there is no need for you to sit up. There is no need for you to see him, even.’
    ‘It is my wish to.’
    ‘At least let me be with you, to support you.’
    ‘Mine be the interview, since mine was the—error.’
    ‘It is so late, my love, and you are so saddened already. Must you stay awake all night? Let me at least make you——’
    ‘You have the packing to do. I will see him alone.’
    ‘Antonia, you know I will never abandon you. I will support you through—everything.’
     *
    Ah, but if we have no means of support? LesPlash had been expelled, of course (I blame myself ; if I had properly looked at Sylvie Plash’s face, I should never have admitted them in the first place). But would one, in time, find oneself regretting them? They were, at least, pupils. Regina Outre-Mer had been withdrawn (Howl, howl): the President’s daughter—gone in a flash of damson-blue bloom: the Badessa likewise, with a flash of daisy (though her one could not, try as one would, regret) … All, all gone … (Even Fraise du Bois—whose guardians, incontinent , had come for her at quite the