Mummie’s voice sounded so upset that Julia was terrified that she might begin to cry. Quickly, she began to talk in a loud firm voice, in the hope of averting such a calamity.
“You see, mummie, we haven’t got much to do here, have we? It’s not like being at home. And I think Terry misses Chang frightfully — and so do I. How about our paying grandmama a little visit?”
“You wouldn’t mind leaving me, then?” said mummie in a most frightfully hurt voice.
Julia saw that she’d made a mistake. She didn’t, however, feel particularly sorry.
“Well, you don’t have much time for us with uncle Tom wanting you every five minutes,” she observed reasonably. “You haven’t had time to read to us once, these hols.”
“You’ve only been here just over a week.”
“It feels much longer,” said Julia thoughtfully. Then she felt that mummie might think that sounded rather rude. “I don’t mean we haven’t had fun,” she apologetically explained, “but just that it’s all been so different, and we haven’t properly got used to it. And you know how easily Terry gets miserable and I’ve come to the conclusion, mummie, that I don’t really mind things for myself half as much as I do for him.”
“Poor Julia.”
“So perhaps,” said Julia — rather timidly, for this was important— “perhaps it would be quite a good plan if we went to grandmama now, for a little bit, and then we could come back here later, if it was convenient.”
“Convenient!” echoed mummie in a strange, annoyed sort of way. “But my dear child, you know perfectly well that wherever I am is your home — yours and Terry’s.”
Now, what did mummie mean?
Home, if it was anywhere, was at their old house at Hampstead. And what about daddy? It couldn’t very well be home if they weren’t all living in it.
Julia wished to introduce the name of daddy into this rather strange and embarrassing conversation, but could not quite think how it was to be done.
At last she said: “As a matterfac’, we aren’t spending the whole of every holidays with you, anyway, are we?”
“No,” mummie said. “Don’t you remember, I told you that daddy wanted to have each of you for part of the time, every holidays?”
“So you did,” said Julia.
“It’s been very difficult to fit in dates — but I believe I could arrange to send Terry to daddy at once. Do you think he’d like to go?”
“Only if I went too,” said Julia firmly.
She wouldn’t let herself remember that she’d been told there wouldn’t be room for both of them together at daddy’s new flat.
“Oh, Julia — nonsense! You can get on without each other for a week. You’ll be together at grand-mama’s.”
“But why can’t we be together at daddy’s too?”
“I don’t think there’s room. Besides, you’d like to have a little longer with us, wouldn’t you?”
“How long?”
“About a week I expect. Just till you and Terry can go to Chepstow. You know I may be going with uncle Tom to Paris, just for a short holiday. What would you like me to bring back for a surprise?”
“Something French,” said Julia, and added hastily, “not a book.”
“I’ll see what I can find. Now, it’s terribly late, and you must go to sleep. I expect Terry’s been asleep for ages.”
“By the way,” exclaimed Julia, “he’s been sick, I think. I heard him. Hours ago.”
“Julia! How extraordinary you are! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I forgot,” said Julia.
Mummie kissed her hastily, forgot about tucking her up, and went to the door.
“He’s prob’bly asleep by now,” Julia said rather coldly.
What on earth was the good of making a fuss now, when it was all over?
“Good-night, darling.”
“Good-night.”
Mummie put out the light and shut the door softly, and Julia knew that she stood listening outside Terry’s door for quite a little while, before very quietly turning the handle. There was no sound of clicking on the light. Only another silence — and then the gentle closing of the door and the sound of mummie moving away.
So he was asleep, and mummie hadn’t gone in.
Julia gave an enormous sigh and turned over on her side, curling up her legs under her, suddenly unable to stay awake any longer.
All next day uncle Tom was away at The Barracks, and Terry was kept in bed till lunch-time.
Mummie came and read to him and Julia, and it was quite like the old days.
In the afternoon mummie had to go out, but only for an hour.
While they were at tea she told them, in a hurried kind of way, that Terry was to pay his visit to daddy at once. The very next day.
“Not Julia?” said Terry, looking scared.
“Not this time. She’ll be going later, I expect. It’s only a tiny flat. Julia’s going to stay here a little longer, and then you’re both going down to Chepstow to stay with grandmama and grandpapa.”
“For how long?”
“My dear, I don’t know. You’re old enough to understand that it’s very difficult to fit in dates and suit everybody’s convenience. I’m trying to do the best I can, and it’s not at all easy.”
Mummie sounded slightly upset, and Terry looked wretched, and Julia instantly created a diversion by saying she had a pain in her head.
“Not earache?” said mummie sharply.
“Oh no, nothing in the least like that,” Julia assured her.
She had had earache more than once, and knew how frightful it was.
“This is a tiny little pain — I’m not even sure it’s there at all,” Julia explained.
Mummie laughed at that, and Julia’s pain became a joke, and no more was said about it.
Nor was anything more said, just then, about plans.
Peggy rang up after tea, and Julia heard part of the conversation between her and mummie. She supposed that it was wrong, more or less, to listen on purpose — but it was so worrying not to know for certain what was going to happen that she felt she’d do anything that might help her to find out.
So she hung about on the staircase while mummie talked in the drawing-room, and Terry did nothing in the garden.
“... How marvellous! No, mine had to be altered, just a little. I had it shortened.... Oh, the children loved their afternoon with you.... No, I don’t think he is, particularly. You know what he’s like, poor darling.... It’s all so difficult, isn’t it, and Mark is being so utterly unreasonable about money. My dear, I can’t tell you about it over the telephone but if you could see the letters I’ve had from him! Anybody would think they weren’t his children at all — and yet he insists on keeping in touch, as he calls it, with both of them.” Mummie’s voice stopped.
Then she said “Yes,” and “No,” and then, to Julia’s disgust, a long something in French, of which Julia only understood the words “La petite” — which meant herself — and “Mark n’a pas d’argent” — which meant that poor daddy hadn’t any money. Terry’s name came in several times too.
What on earth was it all about? It must be something interesting, or mummie wouldn’t take the trouble to talk in French.
When she next spoke in English, it was all about going to Paris with uncle Tom, and the only interesting bit was right at the end, in answer to something that Peggy must have said.
“I’m sending them down to Chepstow, to stay with mother. Anyway for a fortnight. It’s unlucky she can’t keep them longer, as it happens...” Them, thought Julia. Definitely, that meant both of them.
Well, it was quite fun being at the Plás, and there’d be Chang. And Terry wouldn’t be worried by uncle Tom. Both grandpapa and grandmama were always very kind to Terry, and he liked being with them.
And perhaps he wouldn’t frightfully mind being with Petah, if it was only for a few days and if daddy was in one of his nice moods.
Still, Julia thought gravely,
it was a frightful risk. She knew what Terry could be like when he was with a person whom he rather hated, and she knew what daddy could be like when Terry aggravated him. If only she could be there herself, she’d probably be able to smooth things over quite a lot. Petah, she was absolutely certain, would only make things worse.
She was that kind of person.
“Christ!” muttered Julia, remembering this ejaculation as she thought of Petah.
Before she went to bed she asked Terry if he thought he’d like staying with daddy, trying to make it sound casual.
“Naturally, I should like seeing daddy,” Terry replied, giving her the look that meant she’d better not go any further in that direction.
So Julia hastily said: “Oh yes. Only I wish we were both going there together.”
And Terry said: “Oh, so do I.”
“But we shall meet at grandmama’s, and Chang will be there,” Julia quickly reminded him.
“He’ll be frightfully pleased to see us, won’t he?” Terry said, with his smile — and Julia suddenly realized that she’d hardly seen him smile once, these holidays.
She hated this thought so much that she wouldn’t look at it at all.
In about five minutes, as it seemed, Terry was gone.
Mummie had packed his things for Chepstow, as well as what he’d want in London. She sent Julia into the garden while she packed, instead of letting her help, but as soon as it occurred to Julia that Terry might like having mummie all to himself before he went away, she felt she didn’t mind a bit.
After Terry had gone the holidays at “Rosslyn” became absolutely and entirely different. The house and the garden didn’t look the same — one noticed them more, for one thing — and Mrs. Strang the cook became more important and one spent more time with her — and uncle Tom seemed to improve quite a lot. Julia seldom remembered to hate him.
Once they had quite an interesting talk, when he’d taken her and mummie out in the car one afternoon, and they’d gone to bathe and have tea at a place with a swimming-pool.
They were waiting for mummie who was, as usual, taking ages to dress.
“You ought to swim fairly well, one of these days,” remarked the Captain, feeling the muscle in his own arm.
Julia, who had hoped that she swam rather more than fairly well already, was slightly disappointed, but the Captain, she felt, knew what he was talking about. She had been fearfully impressed by his diving.
“I wish I could learn to dive,” she said. “I have tried, but it gave me earache.”
“You should wear a rubber helmet, or put cotton-wool in your ears.”
“Yes,” said Julia, not liking to tell him that both these precautions had been tried and proved ineffectual already.
“What games do you play at school?”
“Tennis, and net-ball, and the Seniors play lacrosse. Some people play cricket, but it’s not one of the organized games.”
“Women’s cricket isn’t ever any good,” said the Captain calmly. “I shouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Go all out on tennis and swimming.”
“We haven’t got a swimming-bath. Only the sea. But when I go to my next school, I hope they’ll have a decent swimming-bath.”
“Your next school?”
“Yes. I’m going to a bigger school, when I’m thirteen. Like a Public School. At least,” said Julia, suddenly assailed by a new doubt, “I was always supposed to be going to. But perhaps it’ll be too expensive.”
“Ah,” said the Captain.
He and Julia looked at one another solemnly.
“I don’t mind frightfully, about going to a Public School, if it’s too expensive. I know education costs a lot nowadays,” said Julia, thinking of poor daddy, and of how mummie had said, “Mark n’a pas d’argent.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” said uncle Tom quite kindly. “You’re a good little sport, I’ll say that for you, and know what’s what. I wish that brother of yours was more like you. What’s the matter with him?”
He spoke as if he really wanted to know, and Julia could have killed herself because she could not put into words some really sensible explanation that might have made him understand about Terry.
She could only say: “He’s always been like that.”
“Spoilt, eh?”
“No,” said Julia. “Daddy was always—”
She stopped dead.
“Go on.”
Well, if he didn’t mind her talking about daddy, she needn’t mind either.
Julia went on.
“Daddy was always rather strict with Terry, and used to get frightfully cross with him, often.”
“Any man would. I dare say women could put up with that moonstruck look of his, and the way he drops everything he touches, but no man will ever stand it for two minutes. How does he get on at school?”
“Absolutely all right,” said Julia, looking straight at the Captain.
“Does he like it?”
“Nobody likes school, much.”
“Rot! Don’t tell me you don’t like yours.”
“Not frightfully. I’d rather be at home. At least—”
“At least what? For God’s sake say whatever you want to say, and don’t break off half-way like that.”
“Sorry,” said Julia. “Well, you see, home’s a bit unsettled now. First being here — I mean at ‘Rosslyn’ — and then Terry’s going off — and grand-mama’s next week — and Chang not living with us any more — it is rather like not having any proper home at all, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” said the Captain slowly. “You see, Julia, your mother having married me, and me being in the Army, we may naturally have to be hopping about the world a bit. In fact, next year I shall probably be going to India and naturally I shall want her to come with me.”
India! This was the first Julia had heard of it. “For how long?”
“Perhaps a year — perhaps two years. I don’t know. Anyway, the point is this. I think you’re a good kid, as I said before, and you’ve got plenty of spirit, and I want you to make your mother understand that it’s okay for her to go. Naturally, she’ll be sorry to leave you and the boy, but after all what’s two years?”
What indeed?
Julia couldn’t imagine.
“Where should we go in the holidays?”
“Relations,” said the Captain briefly.
And he added after a pause, “I expect your father’ll be quite glad to have you with him, when it’s convenient.”
“Both of us?”
“I expect so. And your grandfather and grandmother — and this dog of theirs.”
“He’s ours,” said Julia quickly.
“Very well, yours. I tell you what, Julia — when we come back from India, I’ll let you keep a dog of your own, if you like.”
Julia felt herself turn scarlet.
A dog of her own — a puppy!
“Could he sleep in my room?”
“Yes,” said the Captain.
“Thank you most frightfully,” said Julia earnestly.
“That’s a promise, then. And you’ll tell mummie that she needn’t worry about you, and you’ll be all right and hold the precious Terry’s hand when he needs it.”
“He doesn’t. He isn’t a baby. But,” added Julia, remembering the puppy, “I’ll do everything I can to make him not mind.”
“That’s splendid. I thought you’d play up all right,” the Captain said approvingly.
Then mummie came back.
As usual, when she and uncle Tom were together, they talked to each other the whole time and paid no attention whatever to Julia.
She sat back and thought about the puppy, and mummie going away for a year or perhaps two years to India, and Terry and herself paying visits, and, if they stayed with daddy, having Petah there all the time.
Gosh! things were odd — never the same, but changing all the time. Quite soon it would be the Plás — and grandmama reading old-fashioned, nice stories out l
oud after tea — and darling Chang — and remembering to be fearfully polite all the time and not to use slang expressions — and having to speak very slowly and clearly so that grandpapa could hear.
Terry was far better at all these things than was Julia.
Worried, she remembered that she really ought to have been able to make uncle Tom understand about Terry better, when he had given her such a good opportunity. It was maddening to know a thing quite well oneself, and at the same time not be able to explain it.
“Julia! Come out of the moon — we’re going now. What were you thinking about?” mummie asked.
“Nothing,” said Julia, beginning to laugh, she didn’t know why.
V
THE next day there was a fuss. The Captain kept on ringing up from the Barracks, and it was all about some change of plans or something, and mummie seemed frantic and in the kind of mood that daddy, in the old days, used to call one of her frenzies.
Julia judged it better not to ask what was happening, and only hoped that she would find out sooner or later from the servants.
Mrs. Strang was always kind and always glad to see one in the kitchen, but Norah could be very cross.
She looked cross this morning, especially when mummie called to her from upstairs just as she was laying the table for lunch.
“Norah! Where’s my blue suitcase?”
Norah muttered a bad word, and something else that Julia couldn’t hear, and went up the stairs.
Julia at once ran into the kitchen.
“Come to see me dish up?” Mrs. Strang asked. “But it’s only cold today, with a nice salad.”
“Do put a banana in the salad,” begged Julia. “I’ll cut it up.”
“There you are then,” said Mrs. Strang — kind as ever — and Julia forgot everything else as she carefully sliced up the banana.
Just as it was finished Norah flounced in, looking angry.
“It seems I’m supposed to be a lady’s-maid now,” she said in a disagreeable voice. “She calls me off, just as I’m putting out my silver, and wants to know where her something luggage is. As if I knew — or cared!”
Collected Works of E M Delafield Page 451