Her companion abandoned the subject. ‘I shall have to break it,’ he said. He took the piece of cake and broke it in half and, as he did so, a tiny packet fell on to the plate. It was a golden bell, very small but perfectly shaped with a little tongue inside.
‘How pretty!’ exclaimed Barbie. ‘I’ve never seen one like it before.’
‘Yes, it’s nice,’ he agreed. ‘Would you like it fixed on to your bracelet? I could do it in a minute.’
Barbie took off her bracelet and handed it over. There were other charms on the bracelet and each one had a history: the tiny jade pig was a gift from Nell for her birthday; the golden slipper was from a ‘satisfied customer’ – a woman at Guildford whose house had been redecorated under Barbie’s direction. The woman had wanted to ‘give her something’ and had been told that she did not accept money. Aunt Amalie had found the little gold rose among her treasures. All these charms meant something to Barbie and the new charm would mean something too. It would remind her of a delightful interlude, of very blue eyes and a deep voice.
Barbie watched her new friend fixing the new charm. It took a full minute to fix so she was able to look at him properly for the first time: the brown hair, short and thick; the strongly-moulded neck and the well-set ear. He really was rather nice.
‘I’ve seen other girls wearing this sort of bracelet,’ said Henry Buckland. ‘Do you buy them with the charms attached?’
‘No. At least I didn’t. It’s more fun to pick up the charms as you go along. Neli and I each bought a bracelet with some money we won on E.S.B. in the Grand National. Nell has nearly a dozen charms on her bracelet. Nell is the girl I share a flat with,’ added Barbie.
‘She picks up charms indiscriminately?’
Barbie did not answer that, for the fact was Nell picked up charms from her admirers – from Peter and Phil and Roddy and all the rest. Barbie did not approve of this and they had argued about it more than once. Nell had pointed out that if the creatures wanted to give her something for her birthday or for Christmas (which of course they did) it was much better that they should give her a little charm for her bracelet than waste their substance upon flowers. (‘A few flowers are nice, but too many flowers are frightfully depressing – like a funeral or something,’ declared Nell. ‘Besides it saves their pockets. You can buy quite a nice little charm for seven and six, and flowers cost the earth.’) All this was true, of course, but still Barbie did not approve … yet here she was, doing the same thing herself!
But it isn’t the same – not really, thought Barbie. The little bell fell out of the cake. He didn’t buy it for me.
It was absolutely different, but Barbie was blushing when she took the bracelet and fastened it on to her wrist.
‘We ought to go back,’ said Barbie rising from the seat.
‘Why ought we?’ asked her companion. ‘They’re quite happy without us; we’ll never be missed. As a matter of fact I don’t think we ought to go back. The marquee will be hotter than ever by this time and you might feel faint again, you know.’
Barbie pointed to the stream of people moving across the lawn towards the house. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘They’re going to see the presents.’
‘Do you want to see the presents?’
‘I’ve seen them,’ said Barbie. ‘But you haven’t … and anyhow I really must go. Aunt Amalie will be wondering what’s become of me.’
He rose with reluctance. ‘But look here, Miss France, we’re not just going to say good-bye. I mean I’m staying at the club for a week. Couldn’t we meet – somewhere? Couldn’t I call?’
‘Call?’ said Barbie doubtfully.
‘I could call on your aunt. That would be all right, wouldn’t it?’
Barbie hesitated.
‘She wouldn’t mind, would she?’
‘She wouldn’t mind in the least,’ said Barbie with a sudden smile. ‘Aunt Amalie is the most hospitable person in the world.’
‘Tomorrow afternoon?’
Barbie nodded. ‘Come to tea. Aunt Amalie will be delighted to see you. It’s Underwoods. Do you know where it is?’
‘I can find out,’ said Henry Buckland.
The words were perfectly simple but the tone was so significant that Barbie was slightly alarmed. He was going too fast. She felt quite breathless – as if she had been running.
‘Au revoir!’ said Barbie and ran across the grass into the house.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The wedding reception was nearly over by this time. Aunt Amalie had felt tired, so she and Penney had gone home. Edward had been invited to dinner and an informal dance, so Barbie stayed to throw a handful of confetti at the bride and bridegroom and then went home by herself. She found Aunt Amalie resting quietly in the drawing-room.
‘Well, how did you get on?’ asked Aunt Amalie. ‘It wasn’t as boring as you expected – at least you don’t look as if you had been terribly bored.’
‘I wasn’t bored at all,’ replied Barbie laughing. ‘As a matter of fact I met a rather nice man and I’ve asked him to tea tomorrow. He’s a sailor and his name is Henry Buckland. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. It will be very pleasant to meet a nice man – and he must be very nice indeed to make you look like that,’ added Amalie smiling.
Barbie blushed. She said hastily, ‘Oh well, perhaps it was the fizz – or something’ (which was nonsense because she had had only one glass). ‘Anyhow it was a good party,’ added Barbie. ‘Elsie looked really beautiful and none of Mrs Mainwaring’s doleful prophecies came true.’
They talked about the wedding – who was there and who was not – and the frightful heat in the marquee. Aunt Amalie thought Mrs Mainwaring’s hat was ‘rather a mistake’; Barbie thought it was a disaster. Aunt Amalie thought the bridegroom had ‘looked a little pale’; Barbie thought he had looked absolutely miserable. In fact the two ladies were in perfect agreement.
Barbie was tired that night. She went to bed early and was asleep and dreaming long before Edward returned; but Amalie had waited up for him. Amalie never slept very well so it was no use going to bed early. She sat and read in the quiet drawing-room until she heard Edward’s car.
‘Not in bed yet, darling!’ exclaimed Edward dropping a light kiss on the top of her head. ‘Sitting up waiting for the roisterer’s return – and reading – let me see – Ayala’s Angel! How often have you read Ayala’s Angel?’
Amalie smiled. ‘Oh, I know it isn’t supposed to be one of his best, but it appeals to me. Ayala is so human. Real people behave like that.’
‘Like what?’ asked Edward, who had not read the story.
‘Misunderstand each other and make a mess of things.’
Edward hesitated and then he said: ‘Just what do you mean by that, Amie dear?’
Amalie did not reply. Perhaps she was not quite sure what she had meant.
‘You meant something, didn’t you?’ asked Edward. ‘You were just thinking about the book. If you were thinking about Barbie and me you needn’t worry. We understand each other all right.’
‘Are you sure, Edward?’
‘Yes, of course.’
There was a little silence. Amalie was remembering Barbie’s face when she came back from the wedding.
‘Look here,’ said Edward. ‘You know what I feel about it. I practically told you – and I could see you understood.’
She nodded.
‘Amie! You don’t mean there’s somebody else?’
‘Goodness, no!’ exclaimed Amalie a little too vehemently. ‘I just mean – what I said.’
‘There is somebody else.’
‘No, Edward. It’s just that I’m not sure –’ she hesitated.
Edward sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘Look, darling,’ he said. ‘You had better tell me. You want us to get married, don’t you? It would be a pity if there was a misunderstanding and we “made a mess of things” when a little plain speaking would clear it all up. Of course Barbie and I aren’t enga
ged officially – or anything like that – but we’ve always been sweethearts since we were children. We drifted apart a bit when I went abroad, but that was just – well, it was just temporary. I’ve always felt sure of Barbie, if you know what I mean.’
Amalie knew exactly what he meant; he was free to wander where he liked and Barbie was supposed to sit and wait for him! It was not often that she was cross with Edward, for she loved him dearly, but this was really a little too much. She said with some asperity, ‘I’m quite sure Barbie doesn’t feel “engaged” either officially or unofficially, and she’s very attractive – you said so yourself.’
‘Darling, don’t be cross with me. Of course Barbie is attractive. She’s a little like you.’
‘She isn’t in the least like me.’
‘Not in colouring of course, but there is a look of you in Barbie. You both have the same lovely eyes. I bet you had lots of admirers when you were younger.’
‘The best butter,’ said Amalie, but she was smiling.
‘It’s true,’ declared Edward. ‘Not butter at all – but never mind. Tell me about Barbie’s admirers.’
‘I don’t know anything,’ she replied. ‘I was just trying to warn you that you may not be the only pebble on the beach.’ She laughed and added, ‘For instance there’s a young man coming to tea tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, there’s nothing in it – just a young man called Buckland. Barbie met him at the wedding and –’
‘Buckland! Good lord, he’s an absolute menace!’ exclaimed Edward in dismay. ‘What on earth is Barbie thinking of to take up with a fellow like that?’
‘She hasn’t “taken up” with him. He’s just a casual acquaintance. I only mentioned him to show you that other people probably find her attractive, that’s all.’
‘Buckland – coming here to tea!’
‘You’re making far too much of it,’ declared Amalie. ‘Why shouldn’t she ask a young man to tea? It’s dull for her here.’
‘You won’t like him.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter. I suppose I can be pleasant to him and give him a cup of tea even if I don’t like him much. You won’t be here (you’re going back to town tomorrow) so it won’t matter to you.’
‘I wish I were going to be here,’ declared Edward. ‘Buckland really is a menace. They call him Force Eight Buckland – that shows you the type of fellow he is.’
‘Force Eight?’
‘Means a gale,’ explained Edward briefly. He rose and added in quite a different tone of voice, ‘You’re tired, Amie darling, and it’s frightfully late. I shouldn’t have kept you talking like this. You run upstairs and pop into bed and I’ll lock up everything.’
Amalie did as she was told. She was tired – and also a little worried. She had not intended to tell Edward about Barbie’s new friend but just to warn him that Barbie was an attractive young woman and if he really wanted to marry her he had better do something about it soon. It did not take her long to ‘pop into bed’; she was in bed when Edward looked in to say good night.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Edward, who seemed to have regained his usual cheerfulness. ‘Everything will be all right. I’ve got to go back to town tomorrow but I’ll come down next week-end. Things are very quiet just now so I can get away quite easily.’
Barbie had gone to bed feeling at peace with the world. It would be amusing to see Henry Buckland again. She was looking forward to it. Of course there was nothing ‘special’ about it; he had said he would call and she had asked him to tea – she could scarcely have done less – but somehow by the morning her feelings had changed and she wished she had not asked him. In the cold light of day she realised that it was not just a casual invitation to a man she had met at a party. It meant more. She was not sure that she wanted it to mean more.
The morning passed very slowly. Edward went off in his car and Penney was busy as usual. Penney made a coffee cake for tea.
‘Men always like coffee cakes,’ said Penny cheerfully. ‘I’ve made some scones as well. You won’t mind doing the tea, will you? Lady Steyne said I could go out and I thought I might take the bus to Cheltenham.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Barbie.
‘If you’d rather I stayed in and –’
‘No, of course I can do it. Off you go!’
Aunt Amalie rested in the afternoon, so Barbie had ample time to wander round the deserted house and tell herself she had been a fool, but when she had laid the tea and changed into a new and very pretty cotton frock her mood changed again and she began to feel pleased and excited. It was quite ridiculous to feel excited but somehow she was – just a little. She was sure he would come early so she was all ready at four o’clock, but at half past four when Aunt Amalie came downstairs he had not arrived.
‘We’ll just have tea,’ said Barbie. ‘No need to wait.’
‘We had better wait a little,’ said Aunt Amalie. ‘Something may have delayed him – or he might have thought we had tea at five. Lots of people do.’
They waited until five but there was no sign of the expected guest, nor any message, so Barbie made the tea.
‘Something must have happened to delay him,’ said Aunt Amalie for the third – or fourth – time.
‘He could have phoned.’
‘Perhaps he couldn’t find the house.’
‘He could have asked. Anybody could have told him.’
Amalie looked at her. There were two bright spots of red in her cheeks and her eyes were blazing. It was obvious that Barbie was very angry indeed. Like most ‘redheads’ Barbie’s temper was somewhat fiery. Amalie knew this, but all the same she was surprised. ‘I expect he’ll ring up later and explain,’ she said in a soothing voice.
‘I expect he’s forgotten all about it,’ declared Barbie with a little laugh that did not ring quite true.
‘Barbie, it doesn’t matter. I mean you don’t really mind –’
‘No, of course not. Why should I mind? He was merely a chance acquaintance. I asked him because he seemed to want to come.’
‘You’re upset, darling.’
‘No. At least I am, in a way, because it’s so rude – I hate people who are rude.’
‘There may be some reason –’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake don’t let’s talk about it any more!’ exclaimed Barbie.
They talked about other things in a desultory manner and Barbie calmed down a little – at least outwardly. Inwardly she was still very angry. The man had made a fool of her; he had buttered her up and wangled an invitation to tea – and then not come. He had made her look an absolute fool. All that fuss! A special cake baked for him; a special frock put on! All that fuss!
When Penney returned she naturally inquired how the tea-party had gone off and was informed that the visitor had not come.
‘Oh, what a pity,’ said Penney in a matter-of-fact voice and proceeded to talk about her own doings and the convenience of the bus service … but even Penney’s tact was annoying.
After dinner the telephone bell rang and Barbie went to answer it. She was prepared to be perfectly cool. She was prepared to say that it did not matter in the least. She was prepared to listen to his explanations and to tell him that she was sorry but it was impossible to fix another day for him to come … but it was not Henry Buckland. It was Nell’s voice, warm and sweet and friendly, to ask how she was (‘You aren’t doing too much, are you, darling?’) and to suggest that Nell might come to lunch on Sunday if that would be convenient.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Barbie. ‘I’m sure it will be all right. Who is bringing you?’
‘Rupert,’ said Nell. ‘Oh, he’s just a man I met the other day at a cocktail party. He’s going to play golf at Shepherdsford, so he can have lunch at the club and pick me up in the afternoon. It will all fit in beautifully.’
This conversation soothed Barbie and she felt a good deal better when she put down the receiver. It would be lovely to see Nell on Sunday – and E
dward would be here. Barbie had been wondering how to arrange a meeting between her two friends, a quite natural sort of meeting, and now it was going to take place without any bother at all.
The next few days passed quietly and pleasantly. Nothing was heard of Henry Buckland and nothing was said about him; but that did not mean the incident was forgotten. Amalie could not get it out of her mind. She thought about it as she wielded the hoe in her garden and picked off the heads of the violas. The whole affair was so unlike Barbie that she was puzzled. Barbie was really a level-headed creature; it was unlike her to fall for ‘a chance acquaintance’ and if he were merely that – and nothing more – why had she been so angry when he did not come? Amalie wondered whether she should suggest ringing up the club and finding out the reason, but decided not to. Presumably if Barbie really wanted to see the man, she would think of that herself.
Being of the older generation Amalie was apt to ‘fear the worst’ and, if any of her friends or relations failed to appear when she expected them, she immediately conjured up frightful visions of sudden illnesses or motor accidents or other calamities, but she was aware that young people are exempt from this folly. She also was aware (when she thought about it seriously) that if the man had had a motor accident and been killed they would have heard. Shepherdsford was a small place and anything exciting was a topic of conversation for days. Daphne would have heard every detail and certainly would not have kept the news to herself.
Barbie did not seem to be upset. She seemed much as usual – or was she a little too cheerful? It was hard to tell. How good it was to be old! thought Amalie. How peaceful to live for one’s garden – ‘all passion spent’! She was fond of her friends and she loved Edward and Barbie. It would make her happy if they married. If they married and had a child she would feel like a grandmother (like two grandmothers really, thought Amalie, smiling at the ridiculous idea). It would be delightful if things went like that; but if they did not she would accept what came and make the best of it. She would not worry – or at least she would not worry much. It was true that she had been just a trifle worried about this strange man who had set Barbie alight. Edward had said he was ‘a menace’ which had sounded somewhat alarming. But the strange man had not come, so that was all right – or wasn’t it? wondered Amalie.
The Tall Stranger Page 7