Statues in a Garden

by Isabel Colegate

  Lord Tamworth said, ‘I see old Claygate, must have a word with him,’ and smiled and bowed and walked away.

  ‘Tammy doesn’t like me. He thinks I am insolent.’

  ‘So you are.’

  ‘Only to you.’

  ‘That is not true. But if it were true, why should you only be insolent to me?’

  ‘Give me your hand.’

  She gave it to him. He held it, twisting it slightly, and dug his nails into it hard, and then let it go. She withdrew her hand slowly, because people might be looking at them.

  ‘I don’t really understand you, Philip.’

  It was true. She did not really understand him.

  Edmund thought, What is the matter between Mother and Philip. Why are they looking at each other like that? Now he is walking off and leaving her alone, rudely, but there’s Lord Moreton coming up to talk to her. Poor Mother, she has seemed rather nervy lately. But I suppose it must be a year or more since she lost that evenness of temperament I used to love most about her. Alice has it, that is partly why I love Alice. I wonder what is the matter with Mother. I suppose after all she is a little spoilt, though people always say she’s not. Of course he has always given her everything she could possibly want. It’s funny, people say how wonderful it must be to have a mother like that, such a wonderful person besides being so beautiful, and of course one is proud of her and all that, but it’s him we really love. Now Philip is talking to Alice. I wish he wouldn’t. I’ll go over there, taking Ida with me. I don’t like the way he looks at her. Have you seen the roses, Ida? How silly of me, you’ve been staying here all week! But we are walking towards them, that’s right.

  Philip, turning away from Cynthia, thought, I want her. And moving across the lawn as if in search of someone, I want her. Why have I fooled myself? Perhaps I have known for a long time I don’t know I can’t remember I know it now, though. To rip off that hat and pull down her hair so that it’s all round her shoulders and how long have I wanted to plunge my face into those breasts and feel the soft skin between the hip bones this is bad and won’t do, it really won’t, I’ll have to do something. Alice in a governessy hat. Why is she so suitable all the time, silly little thing? Why don’t I come to your room tonight, little governess? After all I’m almost a son of the house, it should be an honour.

  ‘Shall I come to your room tonight, Alice?’

  She looked at him coolly. ‘Why?’

  ‘In the old fashioned phrase, to lie with you.’

  She had meant to embarrass him by her question and make him change the subject, but of course it had been a mistake, and she was unable to prevent a furious blush.

  ‘Of course not. Please go away. I have to look for Kitty.’

  But here came Edmund, protective.

  Philip turned to Ida. He admired her. He thought, I wouldn’t mind marrying Ida one day.

  There is a splendid photograph of old Mrs Weston. She is entirely in black, leaning on an ebony cane, talking to the Prime Minister. She wears a hat, top heavy with black gauze, at one side of which reposes a large bunch of fierce black flowers her dress is black silk and has a huge diamond pendant gleaming on the front of it. She wears several rings on her gloved fingers.

  She was treated with respect by the Liberal leadership because of her late husband’s worthy place in the annals of the party, but most people, including Mr Asquith, were rather frightened of her.

  ‘Are you going to let this Irish affair drift into civil war? Many people want it, you know.’

  ‘I think you exaggerate there. Not many people surely? And I’m certain it won’t come to that People like to talk, you know, and make a noise.’

  ‘It’s dreadfully humiliating to be dependent to such an extent on the Irish vote. Don’t you sometimes think of resigning and waiting until you can come back with a reasonable majority of your own?’

  ‘No, because I believe that if you have been elected you have to govern as best you can in the circumstances as they are. And I still think that we can do it better than the other side.’

  ‘But a civil war would be a terrible failure.’

  ‘I don’t believe we shall have a civil war. There are not quite enough foolish people about, although I agree with you that there are very nearly enough. There’s this conference. I’m moderately hopeful of the outcome of that, and I think Aylmer is too, isn’t he? I’m awfully glad he’s in on that, it’s so much the sort of thing he’s good at. Did he tell you that it was the Monarch himself who asked for him?’

  ‘No, he didn’t tell me.’

  ‘How typical of him.’ He went on to tell her about it, and her criticisms were effectively stilled until other people came up to join them and the Prime Minister was able to slip away and talk to Ida, whom he found a much more agreeable companion. She prettily asked his advice about her reading and he gave it, gently patting her hand from time to time and exuding amiability.

  Here is Alice, pale beneath her sober bonnet.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like a chair, Mrs Weston?’

  ‘Thank you, my dear, but I shall make my way slowly to that bench over there, collecting as I go one or two people to come and talk to me while I sit on it. Yes, an arm would be very kind. Standing is so tiring. But you’re looking pale yourself. You must be tired. I believe you have done more work than anybody for this wedding.’

  ‘Oh no, I have hardly done anything. Lady Weston has been wonderful.’

  Lady Weston is always wonderful, you poor little thing, there is no need to sound so sad about it. Has she been bullying you, the wonderful Lady Weston? Here’s something which might comfort you: you are the only underling I have ever seen Cynthia bully. So that is a distinction, isn’t it? I wonder why. It can’t be because you’re too pretty. She likes pretty people round her – or she always has until now Perhaps she is weakening, afraid of getting old, losing her power. If so, she’s mistaken. She looks as beautiful as ever, a little more spiritual merely as the bloom of youth retreats but still effleurissant.

  ‘She is effleurissant today, isn’t she?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s the thought of your own wedding which is making you sad?’

  ‘Oh no.’ Is it the blush that has brought tears into her eyes, or are they tears of sorrow? ‘I’m sure I shall never.’

  ‘There, there, I always cry at weddings too. Shall I tell you whose wedding I have been thinking of? Moberley’s. He has decided to marry Ellen after all. I put it down entirely to my influence. But it is a secret, so you must not tell anyone. He is terrified of what Beatrice will do when she finds out. He is threatening to leave and run away with Ellen to escape her wrath. I am very worried about it. I have offered to talk to her myself, but he won’t allow it. But it would be a disaster for me if he were to go. After all this wedding business is over I am going to try and persuade Lady Weston to give Beatrice her notice. It would be much the best solution. Especially as I think she is going mad. Oh Tammy, yes, you may come and talk to me over here Edmund, take Miss Benedict to find some tea, she is quite worn out.’

  They walk towards the table, not too close together.

  ‘Are you really tired out?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing.’

  ‘You look pale. Something has worried you. Is it Philip? Something he said? You mustn’t pay any attention to Philip. He is always trying to shock people.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘If you have any trouble with him, just let me know, and I’ll come and knock him down.’

  ‘Knock him down?’

  ‘Don’t laugh. I have often had to knock Philip down. And that’s not boasting because he’s very easy to knock down. Poor old Philip. He’s all right really. Just a bit complicated.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I wish I could talk to you properly. I can see there is something. I’ve got to go back to London this evening, that’s the trouble I must be there tomorrow, and as Father’s got to go this evening, I said I’d go with him. Will you wr
ite to me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, but I mean tonight, before you go to sleep. Will you promise? And tell me what you have felt today – everything – please. And I will write to you too and tell you everything You know, I have a lot to tell you, Alice. Oh dear, here’s that old bore Claygate. Promise to write, promise.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  ‘I promise too. Look, here’s some tea. Ah, Mr Claygate, yes, it is pretty, isn’t it? The garden is at its best at this time of year.’

  My dear Edmund, Alice wrote in her imagination, I have decided that it would be best really for me to go back to Ireland. You see, I have let myself become too involved with all your family, and that is a mistake, and just the sort of silly thing I always do, and so I think I ought to go, because I’ve realized today more than ever before that we are impossibly different, that you belong to something extraordinary, a sort of sect, nothing to do with me, and that of course you will have to marry within the sect, and that – of course. I know we have never said anything about marriage – oh dear – My dear Edmund, I am writing to tell you that I am going back to Ireland. By the time you get this letter I shall have left.

  I shall be sitting in the garden reading and I shall look up and he will say. No, no, he doesn’t know where I live. Besides, I shall get another job at once.

  My dear Edmund, I have decided to get a job with a family that travels a great deal. First of all we are going to Australia.

  I feel so hurt. Where is my open mind? The Governess’s Benevolent Society. First of all we are going to Australia.

  If I could be alone a little, and could walk by the sea, I could turn all this into a gentle melancholy, a peaceful sadness I could manage it then.

  ‘Parthenophil is lost and I would see him

  For he is like to something I remember

  A great while since, a long long time ago.’

  I hope my hair is not going to fall out like it did after Mr Waters.

  ‘Extraordinarily pleasant,’ Aylmer was saying. He was standing beside Cynthia in the sun, looking round at the groups of people on the lawn. ‘Extraordinarily pleasant.’ He meant the garden and the weather, the agreeability of their friends and the beauty of the house, background to another soft explosion of family happiness, endeavour, love, decorum and achievement. ‘I feel very proud of them all, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she answered.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I have to leave tonight. You won’t feel lonely with everyone gone?’

  She shook her head, smiling.

  ‘I’d have stayed if I possibly could, but I’ve this meeting at 9 o’clock in the morning and I must be there. It’s all so important now. I’m afraid Mother’s been bullying the PM again. I wish she wouldn’t.’

  ‘I think he is imperturbable.’

  ‘Yes, but it is rather rude. Nice of old Curzon to come, wasn’t it? I thought he might not, he’s been so hostile to all of us lately, politically. I think it’s because of you that he came.’

  ‘He’s a dear.’ But she was not really paying attention. She was looking for someone in the crowd.

  ‘Although I regret going this evening. I can’t help thinking in a rather sentimental sort of way that anything I can do, well, it is helping to preserve all this, isn’t it? And it’s so well worth preserving.’

  She smiled, affectionately.

  ‘No, but it is,’ he said ‘Everything that’s best in English life has come from this sort of background, places like Charleswood. I’ve always been glad that we’re so well rooted in this particular soil. It’s the right one I’d hate to have been born any higher.’

  ‘You would have made a dear duke.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t like that.’

  ‘Not in the least. Ah, there’s Philip.’

  ‘Were you looking for him?’

  ‘I was wondering where he was. I wanted him to look after young Miss Moreton. She has been looking a bit left out.’

  ‘Poor thing, she’s very plain, isn’t she? Is Philip coming up with Edmund and me?’

  ‘No, he is staying until tomorrow.’

  ‘Good, then you will have someone to amuse you. Otherwise I was almost thinking of staying and starting very early in the morning.’

  ‘Oh no, please don’t do that, I shall be quite all right I am very happy about this wedding, you see. I shan’t feel sad after it.’

  ‘I’m glad. Nor shall I. Shall I suggest it to Philip, about Miss Moreton?’

  ‘Would you? I’m just going to see if the tenants are getting all they want to eat and drink Tell him I said he must, however much he may not want to.’

  Oh no, please don’t do that, I shall be quite all right, I shall have Philip. I have been looking forward to it all afternoon, to sitting with Philip after dinner and talking about the wedding and listening to him being unkind about everybody who was here. They will all have gone. Probably Mama will be tired and will have something on a tray in her room. I hadn’t thought of that. And Kitty and Alice will be in the schoolroom. So we shall be alone. What a luxury. I shall have a bath and change into my green tea gown, and we shall sit opposite each other. Really I would rather be with Philip than with anyone else in the world. I wonder if he will manage to get out of talking to Miss Moreton, wretched boy.

  Because there was to be no party after the wedding, as had at first been planned. They had had the party a few days before, because Violet did not want to miss it herself and because this was to be such a busy week for Aylmer. And then the Moretons had thoughtfully said that they would go on to spend a few days with their friend who lived so near, the Gerald with whom Wilfred had been staying. And the bridesmaids were to be variously withdrawn into the bosoms of their families, and the guests, even the oldest of the aunts, some of whom seemed to have been staying in the house for weeks and weeks, were to disperse.

  They will all go, Philip thought I shall be lost.

  ‘Cynthia says you are to talk to Miss Moreton. She says I am not to allow you to escape it.’

  ‘I have talked to her.’

  ‘You have? Oh. I wonder if Cynthia knew that. Or do you think she meant that you were to talk to her again?’

  ‘I expect she meant that I was to talk to her again,’ said Philip without moving.

  Aylmer laughed. ‘Poor Miss H. A very successful affair, don’t you think?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Does it make you at all nostalgic for your Army days, all this military splendour about us?’

  ‘Not in the least. They have faces like wooden soldiers. As an Englishman I feel very proud of them.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Aylmer, pretending not to notice Philip’s tone. ‘How’s it going in the City? What about those shares you bought for me? Have I made my fortune yet?’

  ‘No, not exactly. As a matter of fact, I am rather worried about them. I don’t know that they were such a good investment after all.’

  ‘That’s bad news. Ah well, I suppose if you must have guinea pigs they had better be your own family. But don’t lose me too much. This is an expensive year for me, what with weddings and all the rest of it.’

  ‘I know I wish – but the thing is – well, I may have been rather misled. I’ll try to put it right of course.’

  Aylmer looked worried. He hated talking about money. He also, like most people, hated losing it.

  ‘I expect you’ll be able to look after it,’ he said hopefully.

  ‘After all you are in the know, where you are.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Look here, don’t look so worried. I’m sure it will be all right I can stand a little temporary set-back, I suppose It couldn’t amount to much, could it?’

  ‘Well I hope not.’

  ‘I’m sure it couldn’t. I mean, your chap said it was a good bet, didn’t he? I won’t even inquire if you like I needn’t know for a bit, you see Eldridge will see to anything that has to be done I needn’t know for a bit, by which time I expect it will have been m
ade good I mean, they go up and down these speculative shares, don’t they?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose they do.’

  ‘That’s what I’ll do then. I’ll leave it in your hands entirely, and not ask to know anything about it until it’s all over. Oh dear, Mother’s going round from one Cabinet Minister to another, telling them how to run the country. It is too naughty of her. I had better try and head her off. Get poor Miss M some strawberries or something, won’t you, like a good fellow?’

  Strawberries for Miss Moreton. Lord, what am I going to do about those shares? If I sell them next week and put what money there is into something else? Surely Horgan can think of some means of recouping a little, after all he owes me something. Thank God at least I’m on the board of that property company. I’m learning to handle him now too. Why does Aylmer have to be so bloody nice about it? Aylmer Aylmer Aylmer. He didn’t mind. He simply didn’t mind the idea of losing £9,000. He didn’t turn a hair. I bet he never sleeps with her. Imagine him naked. Well, he would be just the same of course. Nothing can change him. He is always the same. And yet in a sort of way he retreats from me, I can’t feel his limits. Why didn’t he make a fuss about the money? Why won’t he talk to me?

  Mrs Weston was not bullying the Foreign Secretary. She was talking to him about birds, and his distant suffering face of a larger bird was bent down towards hers to hear above the surrounding talk the story of the redstarts that had nested in the garden that year, for the first time as far as she knew. But he had been on his way to find Cynthia to say good bye, for he had only come briefly out of friendliness for Aylmer and wanted to leave, so when his host approached he began to make his excuses and they went off together to find Cynthia. Mrs Weston wandered off through the crowd, frightening people with her stare and thinking, He feels as I do I wish they would all go now, idle selfish creatures, so that the ordinary rhythm of the garden could reassert itself, he knows nothing can compare with one’s love and knowledge of a place, as I love and know this place. I have been in love, but it never compared, for feeling, with some of my walks through the wood in. Many people would be shocked if they knew that. It’s something that’s hard to share one can share the pleasure of the recurrent events of the garden or the wood but not exactly that sort of ecstasy it is sight, sound, smell, touch and imagination all exercised at once, the extraordinary sadness and at the same time rightness of the transience, the recurrence, the indifference to man’s concerns. Well, I shall die in the spring, after a winter that has been hard to get through, when my resistance has been lowered, a spring cold will catch me and I shall die with all that great push and pulse outside my window, the smell of it coming into me, the shadows of birds dashing past to carry food to their young flashing across the sunlight on my bedroom floor. When you are my age you think about death nearly all the time. The love, you see, was too hard and demanding, and for much of the time one was too involved to know what was really happening I did it well, though. It is a pity the nightingales have stopped singing now, we shall not hear them again until next year.