“You’ll have to be quick ... I expect your aunt will be wondering where you are,” Patricia reminded her.
“I don’t think she heard you return. She wasn’t all agog listening for you as I was. I was determined to have a word with you alone before Auntie shouted my news at you herself. You don’t know ... you haven’t guessed what I have to say, have you?”
“I believe I have ... but then, you see, your aunt told me. I know you’re going to have a baby,” Patricia admitted.
Maimie received Patricia’s words with a burst of merry laughter. “Oh, Pat dear, I wasn’t going to tell you that. Even if Auntie hadn’t told you I could hardly expect it to come as a great surprise! Anyhow, I’m terribly thrilled.”
Of course you are ... it’s wonderful.”
“Still we mustn’t waste time. We’ll have lots of opportunities for discussing the baby, but there are more important things even than that I must tell you about immediately.
“No don’t interrupt me,” she added as Patricia expressed her surprise. “I’ve got to explain matters, and quickly. I’ve told you already that I didn’t want to meet Auntie at the station ... that’s why we flew. I was afraid there’d be a row in public, and I couldn’t bear that. We imagined she might be easier under her own roof.”
“But what was there to tackle her about?” Patricia asked, no longer able to keep silent.
“Plenty.” Maimie spoke the one word grimly, then turned more confidently to her friend. “I didn’t marry Seymour after all! I’ve brought back as my husband a man whom Auntie has never set eyes on before.”
“You didn’t marry Seymour!” Patricia echoed, emphasizing every word as her eyes questioned Maimie, amazement and disbelief in their depth.
“No, I didn’t. We should never have been happy together.” There was a note of defiance in Maimie’s voice. “You should understand; you saw us together. I think you realized all the time how hopelessly unsuited we were. I believe you even tried to show me, and in a way you helped; anyhow, after you’d gone it dawned on me how utterly hopeless it would have been. I took the plunge just in time. I don’t believe I came to my senses until I appreciated how lost I felt when you’d left. You were always such a support, and Seymour didn’t make up for the emptiness your absence caused. I left the bungalow the day before we were to have married. I went to Claud. I couldn’t have lived without him. We thought our affair was a mere flirtation; neither of us had admitted before how much deeper it really went. Oh, Patricia, you do understand, don’t you?” Maimie pleaded, burying her head in Patricia’s lap.
Patricia stroked Maimie’s golden hair with mechanical fingers. “Of course, I understand. You’re both happy; that’s surely all that matters.” Even while she spoke, her thoughts were far away from the girl by her side. Claud and Maimie ... so it was Claud downstairs behind that closed door, Claud whom she must face and shake by the hand. A wave of relief surged over her. She had wanted to escape, had been fearing and dreading a mythical happening, a thing which didn’t exist and would never happen.
“I understand. I do really. I think you were right. You loved Claud, and to have married without love would have been unthinkable.” Patricia murmured her consoling words while her hands still rested on Maimie’s lowered head.
Maimie lifted her hand and glanced up. Although her eyes were still clouded with uncertainty, her lips smiled. “You’re so silent, Pat. You don’t blame me, do you?”
“Of course I don’t. I think it was the right thing to do. To have married Seymour in such circumstances would have been terribly cruel.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Maimie leaned eagerly forward. “I thought Auntie would have a fit on the platform if I turned up with a strange man. It was much easier explaining things here. I told her that I found that Seymour and I were unsuited to one another and that we parted by mutual consent. We didn’t exactly do that. I ran away and left him a letter, but Auntie needn’t know that. On the whole she took it fairly well.” Maimie laughed. “Claud can get around any woman ... even Auntie. You should have seen him making up to her!” Maimie sighed complacently. “On the whole, things went off much better than I expected, but thank goodness it’s over!”
“Miss Hanny must be surprised that I didn’t know.”
“I told her we only parted the day before the wedding; you’d left by then. I could have written and told her, but I was afraid. She’s such a funny old soul; she might have determined to quarrel with Claud and have refused to see him, then I should have been in a mess. I felt sure that once she’d met him, it would be all right,” Maimie said with assurance. “That’s why I wouldn’t give her an address to write to. I pretended we were on the move all the time. You see, I didn’t dare give her my real name.”
“I see. I’d wondered why you hadn’t given her even a postal address.”
“Now I’ll tell you why I wanted to see you first ... before Auntie burst the news on you.” Maimie scrambled to her feet and stood confronting her friend. “I knew the announcement would take you by surprise and you might not say the right thing. Now when Auntie tells you,” Maimie counselled, “you’ve got to be awfully pleased. Tell her you think I acted for the best; that Seymour and I were never suited; tell her he would have made an impossible husband ... that he was a bully ... a drunkard ... anything you like,” Maimie ended laughingly.
Patricia rose slowly to her feet. “I ... I’ll do what I can.” She followed Maimie to the door. “I suppose we’d better go down now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Maimie stretched her arms lazily above her head as she addressed her husband. “I’m much too tired to unpack now. Besides, it’s the first moment we’ve had to ourselves since we arrived; it's a shame to waste time unpacking.”
“Does the aged aunt rest every afternoon?”
“Yes, usually in her bedroom. She’s only remaining downstairs today because of her foot, but she won’t expect us to appear on the scene until tea-time.”
Claud crossed their bedroom to Maimie’s side and slipped his arm round her shoulders. “I suppose Pat will be down to tea. Funny finding her here, wasn’t it? Extraordinary coincidence.”
“A very lucky one,” Maimie promptly added. “I believe it helped an awful lot when she seconded my statement that Seymour and I were utterly unsuited. She played up marvellously.” Then, reverting to Patricia’s plans, Maimie continued, “Pat leaves this afternoon; she’s going home for good. Apparently her father insists. I’m sorry, because she’s so tactful with Auntie. Besides, I’ve hardly seen her at all.” She frowned.
“Well, don’t look so worried about it.” Claud drew her closer to him and asked her gently. “I don’t like that frown. Cheer up. Pat will be able to come and stay with us sometimes when we have our own home.”
Held affectionately in Claud’s embrace, Maimie was hardly aware of the opening door, and it was not until Patricia spoke that she realized her presence.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Patricia remarked awkwardly. “I did knock. I thought you’d heard me.”
Maimie struggled to her feet. “We were too busy to hear.” She laughed. “Anyway, it isn’t the first time you’ve come across us in a compromising position. You ought to be used to it by now,” she continued with good humor and then, turning to Claud added, “Do you remember that embarrassing moment by the swimming pool?” Claud stood up and linked his arm through his wife’s. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget our first kiss, and I believe it brought about my downfall.”
“Downfall, indeed!” Maimie mocked laughingly. “More likely your elevation to a higher plane, hitherto unimagined in your previous debased existence!” She turned back to Patricia. “Why, you’re dressed already. Are you leaving now? Aren’t you here for tea?” she asked with surprise.
“No, I’m afraid not. Five-fifteen is the last fast train, unless I wait until midnight. I really must catch it. I came to say goodbye.”
“Can’t you stay on just a bit?” Maimie suggested
coaxingly. “Surely it wouldn’t matter if you waited until tomorrow? I’ve hardly seen anything of you, and after all it’s a long time too.”
“I really can’t ... you see, I was supposed to leave a few days ago, and then your aunt’s accident delayed me. I put Daddy off then; I really can’t do it again,” Patricia explained.
“Well, thank goodness for Auntie’s sprained foot. I’d have been furious if you’d left without seeing us.” Maimie pouted childishly. “It really would have been awfully mean ... you wouldn’t have dared do it.”
“It would only have been a postponement of our meeting ... I’d have seen you later. I dare say I shall come to London occasionally,” Patricia explained. After all, she reasoned, that was true now. Maimie would no doubt accept that explanation; there was no reason why she should do otherwise. How could Maimie know that everything was different now? They would meet—and the knowledge filled Patricia with pleasure—as often as they could; there was nothing to keep them apart now Kay was no longer a part of Maimie’s life; their friendship could be resumed without fear or pain.
“You will write to me and let me know how you are getting on,” Maimie insisted. “Claud and I want you to come and stay with us. We must see you as much as possible while we’re in England.”
“Yes, of course I’ll write ... but now I really must get off. I’ve ordered my taxi, and I’ve still to say goodbye to your aunt.” She crossed to Maimie and kissed her fondly. “Bye-bye, dear. I’m delighted that you’re so happy.” Then, taking Claud’s extended hand and shaking it warmly, she hurried from the room.
A few moments later Patricia found herself in Miss Hanny’s presence. The older woman was reclining on a couch, and she looked up as Patricia entered.
“Off already, my dear? I hope you’re not too rushed. I’d like a few words with you before you leave.” She indicated a chair. “Pull that up and make yourself comfortable. I’ve been so overwrought since Maimie’s unexpected arrival, I really haven’t had a minute in which to talk with you.”
Patricia drew forward a chair. “I’m afraid I haven’t very long. My train...”
“Five-fifteen, you said.” Miss Hanny glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “You’ve plenty of time; it’s not more than twenty minutes to the station.” Without allowing Patricia to utter any protest, she continued speaking. “Not a flower in the place ... what do you think of it?” Harriet Hanny made a clucking sound with her tongue. “I see you’ve done them now—they look very nice—but to think nothing was ready when Maimie got here, and after all the trouble I’d taken too. It really was most thoughtless of the child; but there, Maimie was always like that, headstrong and inconsiderate.”
“Still, it’s nice to know she’s safely here, and her surprise appearance must have been rather exciting,” Patricia murmured consolingly.
“Exciting indeed!” Miss Hanny echoed. “It was certainly surprising. There was I expecting to greet Mr. Warinder, and Maimie arrives with a complete stranger!” She shook her head disapprovingly. “I wouldn’t have believed it of the child, deceiving me like that!”
“It would have been hopeless to write you. I am sure Maimie did the wisest thing in bringing her husband home to meet you personally.” Patricia cast an anguished glance at the clock. It was dreadful to be wasting time like this; if she lost her train she’d have ages to wait, and then only get a train that stopped at every station. “I really think—”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” Harriet Hanny broke in, but unaware of Patricia’s restless anxiety to leave, she continued, “It’s useless protesting now. Maimie has married this man and that’s the end of it. He seems very nice?” There was a questioning expression in her face as she turned to her companion. “Don’t you think so? I fancy that perhaps Maimie was right. After all, marriage is a very serious matter, and if she really found she didn’t care sufficiently for Mr. Warinder...” She broke off and made a helpless gesture with her hands. “I think perhaps I shall grow to like this Mr. Burny in time.” A smile curved her thin lips. “Dear me, I suppose I must call him Claud now he is my nephew.”
“I’m sure you’ll get fond of him; he is really very charming,” Patricia replied, then hurriedly added, “I really ought to go now. Is there anything more I can do for you before I leave ... or anything you wanted to say?”
“I did want to ask you something,” Miss Hanny admitted, then, bracing herself, she came to the point. “Is it true ... I mean what Maimie told me, that she found she didn’t care for Mr. Warinder? There wasn’t any other reason for her marrying this man ... no reason that she dared not tell me? I’ve got to know. I can’t bear to be kept in the dark.”
“It’s true ... Maimie could never really have cared for Seymour. I believe she and Claud loved one another from the first moment of meeting.”
“I’m glad.” Miss Hanny’s words were brief but deeply sincere. “Now I mustn’t detain you.”
Patricia rose thankfully and gripped the older woman’s hand. To her surprise, she felt herself pulled down, and for a brief instant Miss Hanny’s lips rested on her cheek.
“Thank you, my dear ... for all you’ve done. I know I’m not an easy person to please, but you’ve been very patient, and I’m grateful.”
A warm feeling of pleasure filled Patricia at the unexpected words, little enough in themselves, but from Miss Hanny she recognized their worth. “It’s quite all right. I have been happy with you,” she murmured with some embarrassment.
“I know it was difficult for you, staying on here after my accident, when all your arrangements were made. It was very unselfish of you. I realize it must have been a sacrifice. Now be off, my dear, and I wish you happiness.”
Patricia turned and left the room. The maid had already placed her luggage on the waiting taxi, and with a friendly farewell Patricia hurried down the steps.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A dreary vista of a rain-soaked landscape flashed by in the fading light, as Patricia, from her corner seat in an empty compartment, stared through the window. It seemed incredible that summer could fade so completely and quickly. Only a few weeks ago she had gathered dew-washed roses from the garden, and today sweeping mists of rain beat against half-bare trees and descended on a Darren and fruitless earth.
Patricia turned her attention to the chequered puzzle in the newspaper on her lap. What a waste of time these things were, and yet they served to pass the time, and divert one’s mind from more serious matters.
“Anyone for Pentham? Due in four minutes,” the attendant announced from the corridor.
“Goodness, are we?” Patricia quickly folded her paper and placed it on the empty seat beside her. “Yes, I’m getting off there.” It was not long before the grinding and jarring of brakes heralded the train’s arrival at the station, and Patricia, somewhat hampered by her suitcase, edged her way along the narrow corridor to the exit.
There were very few people on the platform. Patricia had changed trains at Rugby, and there were never many passengers for this scattered district. While awaiting her porter, Patricia gazed round the familiar station. As if the intervening months had receded, memories engulfed her.
“Your luggage, miss.” The porter’s prosaic words shattered Patricia’s reverie. The imaginary figures vanished, and in their place was stark, cold darkness.
“Please get me a taxi,” Patricia asked, following the porter through the barrier gates to the station yard. She watched him ease her trunk on to a taxi and, tipping him, she turned to the driver. “The Vicarage, please.”
It did not seem long before the driver descended from his seat and flung open the door, “ ’ere we are, miss. Wot about the luggage?” His expression denoted more clearly than his words that he had no intention of dealing with Patricia’s cumbersome trunk single-handed.
“Oh, leave the luggage. I’ll get someone to help you.” Patricia pushed open the gate or the Vicarage and ran lightly up the steps. The old-fashioned bell-pull clanged through the house a
nd Patricia waited expectantly. Her stepmother’s presence would undoubtedly spoil things, but she longed to see her father.
Patricia was mildly surprised to hear the bolts pulled back and the unmistakable sound of a chain being withdrawn. Surely they hadn’t gone to bed. She hadn’t said the time she’d arrive, only the day, but it wasn’t so very late, only just after ten.
A rosy-cheeked woman, clad in cap and apron, half opened the door, and, peering through the aperture, spoke. “Who is it? Why—why—” She opened the door to its full extent and stood gaping on the threshold. “Well, if it ain’t Miss Patricia!” Her face beamed. “It isn’t often we sees you up ’ere, miss.” Her kindly expression changed to one of concern. “You ain’t come to stay, ’as you? The missus ... she wrote you, didn’t she?”
“My stepmother? No, I haven’t heard from her.” A feeling of apprehension seized Patricia. “Why, isn’t she here?”
‘No, miss, that she ain’t, nor the master neither. They’ve gone up to Edinburgh ... a conference or something.” The dim light from the globe hanging from the hall ceiling showed the expression of annoyance on her face. “You don’t mean to say she never wrote you? Why, I ’eard the master meself, he told ’er. ‘Emily,’ ’e says—I ’eard ’im meself—‘Emily, don’t forget to write Patricia; tell ’er as ’ow I’ve bin called away. Fix up’ ’e says, ‘for ’er to come later!”
“Then they’re away ... both of them.” There was a note of bewilderment in her voice.
“Yes, miss, that they are, and just fancy the missus not as much as dropping a line, and you all the way from London too. Of course miss, you could stop ’ere just the same.”
“It’s awfully kind of you,” Patricia bit her lips, “but no, I don’t think I will. I can easily go along to the ‘George’.” She forced a smile. “It would be a shame to trouble you.”
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