Peering into the cup Daphne discovered ‘a tall stranger’ (there is always a tall stranger in everybody’s tea-cup).
‘See, Miss Barbie, there ’e is,’ said Daphne. ‘And there’s a little cross quite near ’im. That means trouble.’
‘Trouble?’ asked Barbie, playing up.
‘Some sort of trouble – it’s a sort of warning. You’ll rue the day. You’ve got to beware of ’im – see?’
Barbie nodded solemnly.
‘There’s wedding-bells,’ continued Daphne. ‘That’ll be Miss Mainwaring’s wedding most likely … and there’s an important letter from the north that’ll change your life. You’ll lose something – it’ll be something valuable – but you’ll find it again all right. There’s a ring – see, Miss Barbie, it’s down there at the bottom of the cup. There’ll be trouble about money … and you’ll go a journey and a voyage across the water …’
There was quite a lot more – in fact all the usual prophecies – and, as Barbie was an inveterate ‘fortune-hunter’ and always made a bee-line for the gipsy’s tent at a fair, she had heard it all before; but this morning she was more interested than usual. Daphne had said it was ‘just fun’ but her face was intent and serious; it really seemed as if she believed in all the nonsense herself.
And what nonsense it was, thought Barbie. Everyone met tall strangers – at one time or other – and received important letters and went on journeys and crossed the water, and lost their belongings and found them again!
When the fortune-telling was over Barbie pressed half a crown into Daphne’s hand and only then remembered that they had been wasting Aunt Amalie’s time, as well as their own, for Daphne was paid by the hour.
‘Cut along, Daphne,’ said Barbie rather guiltily. ‘I’ll wash all these dishes for you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Some days after this Barbie was invited to lunch at Melville Manor to renew her acquaintance with Elsie and see the wedding presents. Amalie passed on the invitation and was surprised to discover that Barbie would have preferred to stay at home.
‘Not go!’ exclaimed Amalie. ‘I thought it would be a nice change for you – and you used to be great friends with Elsie!’
Barbie remained silent. It would not be a nice change and she never had been great friends with Elsie. It was true that she and Elsie had played together when they were children, but it had not been of Barbie’s choosing; Aunt Amalie’s friendship with Elsie’s mother had thrown them together – that was all. The friendships of one generation seldom extend to the next, and the mere fact that she was expected to love Elsie dearly did not help matters.
‘I don’t see what excuse you can give,’ added Aunt Amalie with a worried frown.
Before her illness this would not have weighed with Barbie, but now it did. She said quickly, ‘Darling, don’t worry. Of course I’ll go. Perhaps Elsie isn’t as silly as she used to be.’
Unfortunately Elsie was just as silly and even more intolerable. She displayed her presents with smug complacency and then lured Barbie upstairs to display her trousseau.
‘We must have a good talk,’ declared Elsie. ‘It’s so nice for me to have someone like you to talk to. You’re so clever, Barbie.’
‘Clever?’ said Barbie. ‘I don’t think –’
‘Oh well, I don’t mean clever. I just mean you’ve been about the world and seen things, that’s all.’
Barbie was slightly annoyed. It was quite illogical to be annoyed for she did not think she was clever – and had been about to say so – but it is one thing to say this yourself and quite another thing when another person says it … especially if the other person happens to be Elsie.
‘There are all sorts of things I want to know,’ continued Elsie, sinking on to a chair in an elegant manner. ‘I’m just a Home Bird. I don’t know anything about marriage.’
‘I’ve never been married either,’ Barbie pointed out.
‘But I expect you know,’ said Elsie in significant tones. ‘You’ve lived in London and had so much Experience of Life.’
Barbie could not make up her mind whether to laugh or be very angry, but looking at Elsie sitting there, wide-eyed and innocent, she decided to be wide-eyed and innocent too. ‘I’ve had a good deal of experience at Garfield’s if that’s what you mean,’ said Barbie solemnly. ‘We do Interior Decorating.’
‘Interior Decorating?’
‘That’s my business,’ explained Barbie. ‘I tell you what, Elsie. If you want my advice about decorating your house I’ll give it to you free – for old times’ sake.’
‘But I don’t want a house,’ declared Elsie. ‘At least not just at once. Walter and I are going to New Zealand for our honeymoon. We shall be away for six months at least. Perhaps when we come back we might have a flat in Town but I haven’t made up my mind.’
‘What does Walter want to do?’
‘I don’t know – really. He talks about buying a farm, but I shouldn’t like that. Think of me on a farm!’ she added with a little laugh. ‘Can you see me milking the cows?’
Barbie could not.
‘You know, Barbie,’ said Elsie confidentially. ‘Sometimes I feel I just want to stay at home with Daddy and Mummy and not marry Walter at all. What do you think I should do?’
‘It seems a little late to change your mind.’
‘Oh, I haven’t!’ cried Elsie. ‘At least not really. I mean it would break Walter’s heart. It’s just that I’m so terribly sensitive and sometimes I wonder if Walter understands …’
If Elsie had been in real trouble she would have found help and sympathy in Barbie, but she was not in trouble at all. She had no doubts about marrying Walter; she had him in chains and would keep him, come weal come woe.
After this somewhat unsatisfactory talk Barbie was anxious to see the prospective bridegroom (he must be a fool of course but one could not help being sorry for the creature); so she made a point of being at home when he was brought to Underwoods to be introduced to Aunt Amalie. She formed the opinion that Walter was ‘nice.’ He was not particularly brilliant nor was he handsome, but he was much too good for Elsie. Barbie did not speak to him much but she glanced at him several times while Elsie was talking to Aunt Amalie and decided that he was not completely happy. In fact Walter looked as if he were beginning to have qualms about his marriage; already the chains had begun to chafe.
Barbie had said she was bored with Elsie Mainwaring’s wedding – at least that was what she had meant – and she was even more bored with it before the Great Day arrived. Nobody seemed to be able to talk about anything else and Mrs Mainwaring dropped in nearly every morning to discuss the arrangements with Aunt Amalie and to ask in doleful accents what on earth they would do if it happened to be wet. Mrs Mainwaring was sure it would be wet, the marquee would leak and the guests would bring in lumps of mud and tramp them into her new drawing-room carpet. Or, even if it were fine, something else would happen to mar the occasion: Elsie’s dress would not be ready in time; one of the bridesmaids would be ill or perhaps the organ in Shepherdsford Church – which everyone knew was somewhat temperamental – would suddenly cease to function. As the day approached Mrs Mainwaring became increasingly worried and even Aunt Amalie, who was an extremely patient and sympathetic friend, began to get a little tired of her.
Fortunately Mrs Mainwaring was wrong. The day was warm and sunny; not a cloud marred the brilliant blue sky. When Barbie looked out of her bedroom window in the early morning she decided that if anything the day would be too hot … but of course she could wear the new frock which Aunt Amalie had given her. It was very pale-green nylon and would be pleasantly cool.
Edward was coming to Underwoods for the wedding – which would be nice, thought Barbie – and it was pleasant to think that after today there would be no more talk about the boring affair, for it would be over and done with.
Barbie leaned out of her window and sniffed appreciatively; there were real flowers in the garden now – not only their ghosts.
She reflected that she would be terribly homesick for all this beauty when she returned to London and her job. She was fit now, or very nearly, but Dr Ladbrooke who was rather an old fuss had told her to take another month. That would be the beginning of July – and the tenth of July was Aunt Amalie’s birthday, so she would wait and go back after that. She must go back after that; she must turn a deaf ear to all persuasions and objections from Aunt Amalie and Penney – dear pets that they were!
The day became hotter and more brilliant. Edward arrived in his car and said London was like an oven – and ran upstairs to change. He took so long over the business that they were all ready and waiting for lunch when he came down … but he had not wasted his time, thought Barbie. The formal clothes suited Edward; he looked marvellous. He looked more like a bridegroom than a wedding guest.
‘Are we going in my car or in yours?’ asked Edward as he sat down and unfolded his table-napkin.
‘Both,’ replied Amalie. ‘You’ve got to be there early, so –’
‘Good lord!’ exclaimed Edward. ‘I forgot I was ushering! I’ll have to be quick.’
‘If you’re going to eat soup quickly you had better tuck in your table-napkin,’ said his step-mother warningly.
He smiled at her and did so, as if he had been a small boy. ‘How right you are, Amie!’ he said. ‘A grease spot would be a disaster.’
The meal was finished without any disaster and Edward rushed off in his car. The others followed more slowly.
Shepherdsford Church was a beautiful old building in the Norman style; usually it was rather cold and bleak and, (sad to say), half empty; but today it was en fête with its bells ringing joyfully and a red carpet at the door; it was full of flowers and the scent of flowers; full of a fashionably-dressed throng of people who had come from far and wide to see Elsie Mainwaring married to Walter Summers.
It all went off splendidly – none of Mrs Mainwaring’s fears were realised. The bride was beautiful in her white satin and lace, the bridesmaids were in attendance and the organ pealed out the wedding march at the right moment. When it was over, the chains securely welded, the guests found their cars and went on to the reception at Melville Manor – and here, too, everything was as it should be.
A marquee is usually hot and stuffy and today it was hotter and stuffier than usual for the sun had been beating down upon it for hours. Barbie lost Aunt Amalie in the crush and was hemmed into a corner and, what with the heat and the noise, she began to feel rather queer. Quite suddenly she could not bear it a moment longer. Fortunately there was a loose flap in the tent and she was able to pull it aside and slip out. She was sure nobody would notice her absence, for they were all too busy talking, and in any case it was better to slip out quietly than to faint and cause a commotion. It was hot outside of course, but the air was sweet and after a few deep breaths she felt better and was able to walk across the lawn to a seat beneath a tree.
There was nobody about; not a creature. They were all herded together inside that stuffy tent! Afterwards they would groan and moan and say the tent was like a furnace and the noise was awful and the speeches were dull – but at the moment they all seemed perfectly satisfied with their entertainment.
People are odd, thought Barbie. It would be so much more pleasant to walk about the garden. Not one single creature has thought of escaping, except me … but apparently one other creature had had the same thought as Barbie. He emerged from the loose flap – just as she had done – and was coming towards her across the grass, carrying a small tray with two glasses and a piece of cake. He was a big man with broad shoulders, and was dressed in a grey flannel suit (not in traditional wedding garments) and, as he came nearer, Barbie noticed that his hair was thick and brown, he was clean-shaven and had very blue eyes. She had never seen him before but she was sure he was a sailor.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I saw you slip out and I thought you might be feeling a bit faint.’
‘Yes, I did,’ replied Barbie. ‘I’ve been ill, you see. I just felt I couldn’t bear it a moment longer.’
‘I thought it might be something like that.’
‘I’m all right now.’
He nodded and said, ‘A glass of fizz will complete the cure.’
Barbie smiled and agreed.
Apparently he took this as an invitation and putting the tray upon the seat beside her he sat down at the other end. ‘My name is Buckland,’ he said. ‘Henry Buckland. I’m a friend of Walter’s. He and I were at school together. I’m staying at Shepherdsford Golf Club for a week’s leave … I say let’s drink our fizz before the bubbles go off.’
‘We don’t deserve it. We ought to be in there, listening to the speeches and drinking their healths.’
‘I know, but we can drink their healths here, can’t we?’
They drank, touching glasses and saying, ‘Walter and Elsie,’ quite seriously. (Why do sailors always have such very blue eyes? wondered Barbie.)
‘There,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t have done it half as well in all that crowd. It meant something, didn’t it?’
She nodded. It really had meant something but she was not quite sure what it had meant.
‘I wouldn’t have come if I had known it was going to be so posh,’ continued Henry Buckland. ‘I’m feeling a bit out of the picture – no wedding garments, you see – but I didn’t know I was coming until yesterday and there was no time to do anything about it. Walter said it didn’t matter, I was just to come.’
‘You look nice and cool,’ she told him.
‘Women score heavily,’ said Henry Buckland, glancing at her. ‘I mean they can be nice and cool and look absolutely right.’ He paused for a moment and then continued, ‘Walter is an awfully good fellow. Do you think – I mean he seemed a bit depressed. Not quite my idea of a happy bridegroom. Am I imagining things?’ He looked at her anxiously and waited for her answer.
‘I’ve known Elsie for years,’ began Barbie, and then she stopped for it was impossible to say she was sure Elsie would make a good wife. But she had to say something, so she said, ‘Elsie is beautiful, don’t you think so?’
‘Yes, beautiful – but that isn’t everything you want in a wife. At least I don’t think so. Of course I should want my wife to be beautiful, but I should want her to be a friend and a partner as well.’
‘And a good cook,’ suggested Barbie with a chuckle.
Henry Buckland did not laugh at the joke and Barbie felt sorry she had teased him. She said hastily, ‘It’s nice here, isn’t it? I’m glad I managed to escape.’
‘So am I,’ he agreed.
They were silent for a few moments. It was very peaceful sitting in the shade. The marquee looked like a hive of bees – and sounded like it too – people were buzzing round it, going in and coming out, but none of them left it for very long. The hive was the centre of attraction.
‘I saw you in the tent,’ said Henry Buckland suddenly. ‘You’re Edward Steyne’s cousin, aren’t you? Somebody told me that’s who you were.’
So he had asked who she was! ‘Well, not really,’ replied Barbie who was quite used to this mistake. ‘Lady Steyne is my aunt and Edward is her step-son. That’s how it is.’
‘Then you’re Miss Steyne? No, of course not. How silly of me!’
‘Barbara France,’ said Barbie. She was rather amused at the way in which he had made her disclose her name. ‘Do you know Edward?’ she asked. He had mentioned Edward so it was a natural question.
‘Not very well,’ he replied. ‘I’ve met him at the Golf Club, but we’ve never had a game. He’s a lot better than I am. Tigers don’t play with rabbits. Why should they?’
They went on talking. He told her that he had been abroad for two years and had just got back; his next job was to be in London, at the Admiralty (so he was a sailor!). He was not looking forward to it much. Sitting in an office was not his idea of bliss – and unless you had a home near London it might be a bit lonely. He had a married sister in Scotland but
no other relations at all. In return Barbie told him that normally she lived in London, in a flat which she shared with a friend, but at present she was staying with her aunt recovering from an illness.
‘We might meet in London,’ he suggested.
Barbie replied vaguely. If she had been Nell she would have ‘clicked’ but Barbie was more cautious.
There was nothing brilliant about the conversation but Barbie was conscious of an undercurrent. Their two voices chimed together pleasantly. Henry Buckland’s voice was deep; it was a real man’s voice. He had lived so much with men and was so intensely masculine that he made her feel very feminine. They were silly words – masculine and feminine – thought Barbie, but she could find no others to describe the sensation he gave her.
‘What about the cake?’ he said at last, looking at the slab of wedding cake which lay on the plate between them. ‘I should have brought a knife, shouldn’t I?’
‘Sailors always have knives in their pockets.’
‘This one hasn’t – not in these trousers!’
‘Little Tom Tucker,’ said Barbie without thinking.
The blue eyes looked at her quickly. ‘You mean the chap that sang for his supper. Didn’t he have a knife?’
She shook her head.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Tell me about him. I only know that he sang for his supper. What happened after that?’
Barbie hesitated for a moment and then she said:
‘Little Tom Tucker
Sang for his supper.
What did he sing for?
White bread and butter.
How can I cut it without a knife?
How can I marry without a wife?’
Henry Buckland nodded. ‘How could he, poor devil? Perhaps he was a Naval Officer and hadn’t much chance of finding a wife.’
‘I thought they had a wife in every port,’ smiled Barbie.
The Tall Stranger Page 6