Five Windows

by D. E. Stevenson

  “ Look at this picture,” Jan was saying. “ Look at the sea! It’s the colour of an emerald! Could it really be like that?

  “ We’ll go there and make sure.”

  “ But would you like it? Perhaps you’d rather go to——”

  “ Jamaica,” I said. “ Jamaica is the place.”

  “ Really? ” asked Jan, looking at me anxiously. “ I mean don’t say Jamaica because you think I want to go there. I don’t mind a bit … but it does look heavenly, doesn’t it? ”

  “ Heavenly,” I agreed.

  “ Emerald sea, gorgeous flowers, jungles and mountains! Here’s a picture of a woman with a dear little black baby … and here’s a whole grove of banana trees … and look at these tall purple canes with feathery pink flowers! Sugar canes! ”

  “ Yes,” I said. “ Jamaica is the place to go.”

  Jan hesitated. “ But would it be a good place to write your book? We’ve got to think of that.”

  “ I’m sure it would,” I said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Jan and I went back to my flat. I meant to take her to dinner at the Savoy to celebrate our engagement, but we were so busy looking at maps (which we borrowed from Mr. Coe) and making plans for our trip that the time slipped past unnoticed. We did not think about food until nearly nine o’clock and then only because I suddenly felt hungry.

  It was too late to go to the Savoy so Jan made an omelet and fried some bacon while I cleared the maps off the table and laid it for our meal. When we sat down together—just the two of us—I was so outrageously happy that I could hardly bear it. I knew exactly what the psalmist meant when he sang that his cup was full. My cup was brim-full, it was running over with joy.

  After supper I took Jan home to Surrey Mansions. Barbie was there, waiting for us; she took one look at us and then hugged us both, first Jan and then me, with fervour. There was no need to tell Barbie that everything was all right, but there were all sorts of other things to tell her. We settled down beside the fire in the sitting-room and talked.

  Barbie was attired in a dark-blue flannel dressing-gown, for she had gone to bed before we arrived and had got up when she heard us talking. She had a white frilly thing at her neck and her red hair was in little flat curls all over her head. But somehow it suited her—at least I thought so—I thought Barbie looked almost beautiful. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were sparkling with excitement. She was sharing our joy.

  Jan had laughed when I said Barbie was “ solid,” but the word described her exactly. She took our vague plans into her capable hands and shaped them for us. She solved all our problems; she asked sensible questions and when we could not answer them she found the answers herself; she took a pencil and listed all the things that must be done in the next few days.

  “ Let me see,” said Barbie, studying her list. “ I can do some of this for you. For instance you needn’t bother about the cottage. I’ll fix it all with Tommy Pendle, and I’ll have your furniture moved from the flat. That can be done after you’ve gone, of course. Now, what about passports? ”

  “ I’ve got one,” I told her. “ I got one when I thought I might be going to France.”

  “ You can have your wife added to it,” said Barbie, and she told me exactly what I was to do.

  Barbie was solid. She was like a rock in a quaking bog. Her advice and help were invaluable, but even more invaluable was her management of Jan. She swept away all lingering doubts in Jan’s mind and made everything we planned seem sensible and matter of fact.

  Jan mentioned Haines. “ I just wondered,” said Jan, looking at Barbie with an appealing air. “ I mean I have a sort of feeling that it isn’t right to go away without going to Haines first.”

  “ If that’s how you feel, why don’t you go to Haines? ” asked Barbie sensibly. “ David has to go abroad at once of course (he must consider his career); but you could go to Haines yourself and follow him later. There’s nothing to prevent you from doing that.”

  There was a moment’s silence (I was terrified; I thought Barbie had gone mad), and then Jan laughed.

  “ Oh Barbie, I thought you meant it! ” she exclaimed.

  “ But I do mean it,” declared Barbie. “ David’s career is important. If he can’t make a living by his writing it will be a poor look-out for both of you—therefore his career must be your first consideration, Jan! ”

  Jan nodded thoughtfully. She trusted Barbie. “ I mustn’t be selfish,” she said.

  “ Selfish! ” said Barbie, chuckling. “ You won’t get a chance to be selfish. If you’re determined to marry an author you can make up your mind to that. There are all sorts of snags lying in wait for the wife of an author. To begin with you’ll have him in the house all day long. Just think of it! You’ll never get rid of the creature and have a nice quiet time to yourself. I wouldn’t marry an author for the world—nor a painter! If I ever marry I shall choose a husband who will go away to his office in the morning and come home at night.”

  “ I can shut David up in his study,” said Jan, giggling.

  “ And go about in carpet-slippers,” nodded Barbie. “ Oh yes, I know! He’ll raise merry hell if you use the vacuum cleaner while he’s writing; that’s the artistic temperament, my child.”

  But this was just a light interlude in the serious discussion of plans.

  Although it was late when I walked home to my flat—long after midnight—I knew that another task awaited me. Before I could sleep I must write to Mother and tell her everything; all that had happened in the last week. It was a large order: all that had happened in the last week! More had happened to me in the last eight days than had happened in all the years of my life. The letter would take hours to write (it would take all night most likely) but I could not rest comfortably until I had got everything related and explained.

  I sat down at my table and started.

  Naturally I began by telling Mother about our engagement. I told her the whole story; all about the bouquet of flowers and the effect it had produced—so different from what I had intended! I told her how miserable I had been until I had managed to put things right and how happy I was now; and how amazingly lucky I was to have won the only girl in the world that I wanted as my wife—and how amazingly silly I had been not to have realised before that Jan was that girl—and how beautiful and lovely she was and how much I adored her.

  All this was easy of course. The next part of the letter was difficult and I had to rewrite it several times before it satisfied me. I had to explain why Jan and I could not be married at Haines.

  I knew that Father and Mother would have liked us to be married at Haines. It was the natural thing. They would hate the idea of a Special Licence and a hole-and-corner marriage in London. Unless I could make them understand the difficulty they would be grieved and hurt beyond measure. I was sad about it, myself. It would have been perfect if Jan and I could have been married by Father in the dear old church with all our friends round us … but this was impossible and I had to explain why.

  In spite of what I had said to Jan the necessity for hurrying on with my book was not the real obstacle. As I saw it there was only one real obstacle to our being married at Haines. All the obstacles could have been overcome quite easily except the Lorimers’ crazy idea that I was Freda’s property. This obstacle was insuperable. It would be impossible for Jan to return to Nethercleugh, even for a single night, with my ring on her finger. Knowing her family as I knew them it could easily be seen what sort of a welcome she would receive. I could not risk it. I was determined not to risk it. I was not going to allow my Jan to enter the lions’ den.

  The whole thing was ridiculous of course. I had never wanted to marry Freda—the idea had never crossed my mind—and most certainly I had never wanted to live at Nethercleugh. The Lorimers’ plan was utterly without foundation. Perhaps I ought to have been flattered at their good opinion of me (obviously their opinion of my character and capabilities must be high if they were willing to ent
rust me with their favourite daughter and their farm) but I was not flattered; I was just plain angry. What right had the Lorimers to plan my life and to try to drag me into their detestable family circle?

  I explained all this to Mother. I had to explain it fully because otherwise she would not have understood why I could not bring Jan to Haines until she and I were safely married and the dust and fury raised by our marriage had subsided.

  When I had finished this part of the letter I got on more quickly. I told Mother about the success of my book and my decision to leave the office and make writing my profession. I told her all Mr. Randall had said about the importance of writing another book as soon as possible and of his advice to go abroad and see new places and gather fresh material, and I said that Jan and I were going to Jamaica for our honeymoon and I would combine business with pleasure and make notes for another book while we were there. I said I wished I could come to Haines before we started (I had considered the possibility of flying north myself, and spending one day at home) but there was so much to do and so many things to arrange that there would not be time. When we returned from our travels we would come to Haines Manse for a long visit before we settled down to our new life.

  That brought me to Green Beech Cottage. Mother knew already that Aunt Etta had left me the little house, but she was under the impression that it was to be sold. I told her it was a dear little house and Jan and I liked it so much that we had decided to live there. I described it in detail and added that the whole place was to be redecorated while we were away—Jan had chosen the colour scheme and Barbie France had promised to see that everything was done according to plan. Then I told Mother about Noyes. I had made up my mind to engage Noyes if his reference was satisfactory, and I felt pretty certain it would be. Noyes would move into Green Beech Cottage and the furniture from the flat would be transferred to the cottage for his benefit. All these arrangements had been undertaken by Barbie.

  Finally I said that there was no need to say anything to the Nethercleugh people. I would write to Mr. Lorimer myself and tell him all that was necessary; but not until Jan and I were safely on our way.

  That was about all … but when I had signed my name to the letter I was struck by a sudden idea. It was a very surprising idea—it was a very funny idea—and it made me smile. I took up my pen and wrote:

  P.S.—Now that I think about it, I believe you always meant me to marry Jan, didn’t you?

  I was chuckling as I collected the sheets and clipped them together and put the bulky packet into an envelope.

  The letter was finished, but I was still so excited that I did not feel tired. I went to the window and drew aside the curtains.

  Dawn was not far off. The night was clear and the stars were fading rapidly; there was a greyness in the sky. The roofs and gables and chimney-pots looked eerie and unreal in the cold, wan light. I knew this view so well. I had seen it in all weathers; I had seen these roofs baking in the sunshine and gleaming silver in the rain; I had seen them covered with snow and shrouded in wreaths of yellow London fog. They were ugly in a way, but it was a pleasing sort of ugliness—or so I thought. I leaned out of the window and looked at my view for a long time … and as I looked the light from the east brightened and spread.

  So many things had happened since I first saw this view. So many different thoughts had visited me as I looked out of this window. Sometimes I had been homesick and miserable, sometimes I had been happy and at peace with the world; I had been in the depths of despair and on the heights of joy. It was strange to think that in a few days I should be gone from here and never look out of this window again. For a few moments I felt quite sad, and then I remembered the view from Green Beech Cottage. That was a much better view; it was peaceful and beautiful and spacious—you could see for miles from the window of Green Beech Cottage—and Jan and I would look at it together, standing side by side.

  the end