Free Dolly by Anita Brookner Page A

only young man it was inevitable that sooner or later they would dance with each other, but first they had to do their duty, Hugo to his mother, Dolly to various roguish oldsters on whom she bestowed her prettiest smile. My mother, who was present on this occasion in an entirely subordinate capacity, told me that at this stage in her life Dolly was ravishing. When I knew her she was stocky and highly coloured: she had a middle-aged hairstyle and carried a handbag like the Queen’s which swung vigorously as she walked. But when she was twenty-six (except that she gave it out that she was twenty-three) she was dark and slim, with big rueful eyes and an ardent expression. It was this expression, in which could be discerned a rapturous pleading for pleasure, which so appealed to men. It was more virginal than they knew; it was the expression of a girl at her first dance, a turning up of the face, a smile of anticipation, a readiness for, and an expectation of, enjoyment, and more than enjoyment; it was a plea for every kind of fulfillment. Dolly turned up her face as others might make a wish, with a longing for happiness, a trust that if certain words were imparted, certain promises made, all her dreams would come true. Many years later I was to see that expression again, whenever the afternoon faded into evening, whenever an engagement, however apparently dull or worthy, was announced. When the lights were switched on and the stage was set Dolly would brighten, sit up straight, metaphorically square her shoulders, and ready herself for pleasure.
    By the time I knew her that expectation of pleasure wasmore limited. She was no longer a girl with a painful need for validation, for status, for security, but a respectable and slightly disenchanted matron. Yet still she brightened at the thought of diversion, and if her diversions were now notional, almost meaningless, she retained the hope that somehow, against the odds, one such diversion might change her for the better, might propel her into a more satisfying life, among happier, more beautiful people. The smile that came unbidden to her face and transformed her rather hard features into something ardent and melancholy gave her a look of distinction that was almost troubling, putting one under an obligation not to disappoint, to be generous, lavish, indulgent towards the person whose smile expressed such yearning. To her great credit Dolly was ignorant of this. She believed that any good fortune that came her way was richly deserved, but remained unaware that another face had peered through the resolute social face she presented to the world, and thus quite misjudged the effect she produced, congratulating herself on her good sense, and not knowing that for a moment she had shown herself to be the most passionate and most languishing of maidens.
    ‘You could ask her to dance,’ Toni instructed her son. She had remarked upon the beautiful dress, the respectable mother in discreet black; she had noted the expression, and some impulse from her distant girlhood prompted a faint smile. Hugo, who obeyed his mother unhesitatingly when it cost him nothing to do so, advanced obediently. When the girl was in his arms his own expression changed to one of surprise, admiration. They were marvellous dancers. Hugo had been trained by his mother, Dolly by the Americans. Hewas naturally inclined to the Viennese waltz, but she soon indicated a few new steps and he followed her at once. If she wanted to be thrown about and flung over his shoulder she managed to conceal the fact. This no doubt set the pattern for their life to come. On that evening there was no hint of discord, nor, to Dolly’s credit, was there ever to be any open disagreement: one simply knew her to be bored. Gradually the jolting middle-aged couples left the floor. Dolly and Hugo danced on and in the end were rapturously applauded. Hugo led Dolly over to his mother.
    ‘You dance very well, my dear.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said