The Wedding Party
H.E. Bates
Language: English
Pages: 160
ISBN: B013H2RX5C
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The Wedding Party, first published in 1965 (Michael Joseph), is a collection of short stories evoking both the dark and light, and the comedy and tragedy in human nature. Bates employs a deceptive delicateness of touch in his descriptions and character sketches, here mastering the true essentials of the art of the short story; he says much by saying little, what is left out more poignant than the words on the page.
With a host of larger than life characters, we meet the scheming and eccentric Aunt Leonora, who fibs her way through the comic tale 'The Picnic'. The collection also unites two loveable rogues Captain Poopdeck and Uncle Silas, and brings us the farcical tale 'Early One Morning' which provide a sharp contrast with the sombre and haunting tones of pieces like 'The Primrose Place' and 'The Winter Sound', and the lyrical but bitter episode of 'The Wedding Party' itself.
and do is not to swipe at him.’ Mrs Daly said yes, she had the net and she’d try not to swipe. A moment later she climbed on Mr Greenwood’s back, clutching the butterfly net in one hand and holding the lamp-post with the other. Then Mr Greenwood raised himself gently upward by something like another foot, at the same time clutching the lamp-post with both hands for support. He had never had a woman standing on his back before and the experience suddenly reminded him sharply of a game called
mop-stick which he had often played as a boy. ‘Gently does it,’ he said. ‘Gently.’ There was no word of response from Mrs Daly but suddenly Mr Greenwood was convinced that he heard footsteps. ‘Just making the tea?’ The voice of the policeman returning from night duty was inquisitive and gentle. With calm appraisal he stared at Mrs Daly’s bare feet, her cast-off bedroom slippers, the fringe of her nightdress, the butterfly net, the corn-flakes, the bowl of sugar and the bent back of Mr
at the stream flowing past, twenty yards away, between banks of alder trees. ‘Well,’ Mr Willoughby said. ‘What’s your impression?’ ‘Oh! I couldn’t live here.’ The tone of Miss Kingsford’s voice was peremptory, almost irate. ‘This would give me the willies.’ In his gentle fashion Mr Willoughby surprised her by saying that he wasn’t, in fact, asking her to live there. He was the one who might be going to live there. ‘I know, but you did ask my opinion.’ ‘Well, you’re entitled to that, of
want to be in? I had really made up my mind “No”, but I rather like you. You talk sense. You’re in.’ ‘You still haven’t told me how we get there.’ ‘As the advance party, in this, the boat.’ The Captain rapped his knuckles hard on the deck and I almost seemed to hear it splinter. ‘The Other Eden. That’s her name. The first mate thought of that, didn’t you, Tina? Shakespeare.’ The first mate gave the Captain a smile of pure enslavement, tossing her pig-tail rather nervously, I thought, from one
persuasive charm. ‘Not a bit of it. These girls make damn fine crews. Prefer ’em to men any day. Got more stamina and don’t drink so much. In any case we’ve got Skilly.’ ‘Who’s Skilly?’ ‘He’s the galley boy. Naval man to the core. Cooks like an angel and knows what’s best, as naval chaps always do. Worth his weight in gold. Ah! here comes the second round of punches.’ I looked up in the expectation of seeing the blonde bo’sun. Instead, to my great surprise, there appeared at the top of the