The Cobweb Cage

by Marina Oliver

'I didn't tell lies deliberately,' she said in an injured tone. 'I decided on the spur of the moment that I'd go to Stoke. I wanted to look at some things in the potteries there. Ideas for the paintings I'm doing for them.'

  'Lucy was most upset and she says you haven't been to see them other times when you've told me you were there.'

  Ivy frowned. 'I hate having to tell you every time I go out of the house where I'm going!' she declared petulantly. 'I don't want to be spied on all the time! That's why I don't tell you where I'm going.'

  'But need you involve Lucy?'

  'You fuss so if I tell you I'm going somewhere on my own. Lucy is respectable, not one of my disreputable artist friends! I can't stand your fussing!'

  She ran out of the room and Marigold sighed. Ivy was getting much too difficult for her to deal with. The thought crept insidiously into her mind: would Bill have any greater success?

  *

  Marigold was surprised when Mr Endersby was announced. She rose from behind her desk and walked to meet him, hand outstretched.

  'How pleasant to see you! Will you have some coffee? Joan, bring some for both of us please.'

  Mr Endersby seemed ill at ease. He muttered inaudibly until Joan reappeared with the coffee and after Marigold had poured he heaved a deep sigh.

  'I'm afraid it isn't a pleasant mission I come on,' he said at last.

  'Dick? Is he ill?'

  'No, no, nothing to do with the lad. Look, I'd best start at the beginning. It's an odd business.'

  He paused, gulped some more coffee, and as Marigold remained silent reluctantly began to speak again.

  'A few days ago I received some drawings in the post, designs for china, and with them a letter from a fellow called Travers. David Travers. Do you know him?'

  'Yes. He's just become engaged to Poppy.'

  Marigold waited, puzzled.

  'He works for one of my rivals, he's a commercial traveller and he wrote to say he'd acquired these designs and wondered if I would be interested in them. I was suspicious because normally designs are kept very secret and the employees of one firm don't approach another firm unless they're hoping to get a better job. He didn't ask for a job, however.'

  He paused again, set down his coffee cup, and refused when Marigold offered more.

  'No thank you, my dear. Well, before I'd decided what to do about it I had a visit from this man's employer. He demanded to know if Travers had offered me some designs. He'd been sent a letter with a rough copy of the one Travers wrote to me, and a single drawing which was one he'd just bought himself, the same as one I'd been sent. Well, as soon as I said I had received a letter he went raging off and promptly sacked Travers.'

  Marigold looked at him, her eyes wide with pain. She had a horrible, dreadful premonition of what was to come.

  'Go on,' she whispered.

  'I sent for Travers. His employer had given him no chance to deny the accusation, no chance to offer an explanation. He admitted having found the designs, and of course you can guess they were Ivy's, but he utterly denied having written to me or sent me any of them. So who would do this? Who is capable of doing it, of forging his handwriting? Who wants to get him into trouble?'

  'You think it's Ivy?' Marigold said dully.

  'She had copies of the drawings. She is such a clever artist she can probably copy handwriting. She is such a selfish little, self-centred grasping creature she can't bear anyone else to be happy if it means they pay her less attention. I wondered why she should have it in for Travers but you've just told me. She wants to spoil Poppy's engagement.'

  Marigold did not try to defend Ivy or deny it. It seemed only too true.

  'What will you do?' she asked wearily.

  'If Travers goes to the police, as he talks of doing, it will cause a dreadful scandal. It won't get him his job back though, his employer is adamant. It will probably lose him Poppy and they'll both be unhappy. And that, incidentally, would be exactly what Ivy wanted.'

  'But she'd be in dreadful trouble if it could be proved!'

  'She is probably so supremely confident she doesn't even consider the possibility!'

  'Can David be stopped?'

  'I wanted to ask your opinion first. If there's some way of bringing it home to Ivy that she must not do these things, I'm willing to give Travers a job providing he'll forget the matter.'

  'Ivy no longer listens to me,' Marigold said reluctantly. 'Would you speak to her? Impress on her how criminal such behaviour is?'

  'That is what I'd like to do, if you permit. You and her brother are technically her guardians, but if you give me permission I would willingly speak to her.'

  'I'll see Johnny and perhaps we could all meet here in a week's time, whenever convenient?' Marigold suggested. 'Lunchtime on Saturday week, perhaps?'

  *

  Richard was more restless than usual. The challenge of setting up the hotel and expanding it into the neighbouring house had occupied him fully for a while, but now it ran so smoothly there was little for him to do.

  He suggested to Inge that with the profits, which were healthy and growing, she ought to move to still larger premises. He also had plans for offering instruction to potential skiers during the winter, as well as guided walks in the mountains during the summer, but she would consider neither suggestion.

  'I am earning enough to live very comfortably, thanks to you,' she replied. 'Why should I want to earn even more money?'

  He could not explain. It was not the money but the satisfaction of taking on a more difficult task and succeeding that he craved. She had the peasant mentality of being satisfied with obtaining just sufficient for her needs, and then keeping her head down for fear of disasters.

  If only he had the capital to buy her out. He knew she would retire quite happily to a small house now she was accustomed to living in the town, and enjoy the social round of tea parties and dances. If he could offer her a fair price she would be able to buy a house and invest enough to live on.

  He had no capital. If he approached his parents he would be able to buy Inge's hotel a dozen times over with the money that rightly belonged to him, but he felt as bitter towards his parents as he had the day he read his mother's letter.

  His father would never have rejected Marigold if it had not been for his mother's attitude, he knew. But by remaining silent and ignoring her unreasonableness he was equally guilty. Again the utter desolation of loss swept over him, and he resorted to his normal outlet of chopping wood. If any of the guests expressed surprise that the manager should occupy himself with such a menial task, he laughingly replied that it was an excellent way of getting exercise, which he could stop the moment a guest required his services.

  An hour later he carried a basket full of logs through to Inge's private sitting room and found her sitting side by side with Dieter on a small, brocade-covered sofa.

  'Good afternoon, Dieter,' he said with a smile. Dieter had become a good friend although he did not often come to St Moritz. 'How is everyone?'

  'Well, thank you. I'm pleased you are here. Can you spare a few minutes?'

  'Of course. You came alone?'

  'Helmut is busy on the farm. He is planning to marry soon and will be living in Herr Müller's house. I have decided that farming is not for me. I prefer a livelier existence than that of the high valleys, shut in for months of the year.'

  'Are you looking for a job in St. Moritz?'

  'Dieter thinks he could teach the visitors to ski,' Inge said importantly.

  Richard regarded her quizzically. When he'd suggested the same she had not been in the least interested. He saw the shy but fond look she was turning on Dieter and suddenly understood.

  'Would you be looking for a base here at the hotel?' he asked carefully.

  'If it is possible. I would rent a room here, and if Inge allows use it also as an office for booking lessons and so on.'

  'Of course you may,' Inge said swiftly. 'It will be pleasant to have someone here who knew Uncle Friedrich and A
unt Gertrude.'

  'When do you wish to come?'

  'As soon as possible. I came today to ask Inge if she agreed. Helmut's wedding is next week and I would like to come as soon after that as I can, to make ready for the winter season. You are both invited to the wedding, by the way. It would be pleasant to see you again.'

  'I'd love to come!' Inge exclaimed.

  'I must decline,' Richard said slowly. 'It would not be possible for us both to be away for several days, and we cannot make the journey there and back in a day.'

  For the next few days Inge was more animated than Richard had seen her for a long time. It was decided that Dieter would drive her back and she would stay with his mother until the wedding.

  'And I can bring back my belongings afterwards, if that isn't too soon.'

  After they had gone Richard spent some time musing on this development. It would not be long, he opined, before Dieter asked Inge to marry him, and from the fond looks she had been giving him she was bound to agree.

  She had a year or so ago hinted that it would be suitable if Richard married her but he had gently told her it would not do. Apart from her lack of intelligence, which he knew would be an insuperable barrier to happiness, he still felt married to Marigold. However long she had been dead he could never imagine taking another woman in his arms, making love to anyone else. His heart would always be entwined with hers.

  Dieter would doubtless consider it his right, after they married, to manage the hotel for Inge. There was not enough work for him alone and certainly not enough for both of them, even if Dieter spent all the daylight hours teaching visitors to ski. It was time to move on.

  Inge had insisted on paying him a generous salary, saying he had spent long enough at the farm helping her for no more than his keep.

  'I was not able to pay you then,' she'd protested. 'You must have what is fair. I have asked what other managers are paid and that is what I shall give you.'

  He had few needs and most of his salary had been saved. Did he want to remain here or should he perhaps go to America? Soon he would have to decide.

  *

  Mr Endersby came alone to lunch, saying he hadn't thought it appropriate to bring his wife. For similar reasons Johnny had not brought Lucy. Marigold greeted them and handed round sherry in the private parlour where they were to eat.

  She dreaded the confrontation that was to come, but sadly realised Ivy had now gone too far and was beyond her control. She ignored all the pleas Marigold might make. She needed a shock such as the combined fire of Mr Endersby and Johnny to bring her to her senses, and prevent her from doing something from the consequences of which they could not hope to save her. Poppy was not yet there but Marigold expected her soon, and David was to come with her.

  'Where is Ivy?' Johnny asked after they had exchanged polite greetings and Marigold had asked after Lucy and the children.

  'She's at the gallery seeing some potential customers. She promised to be here by one o'clock.'

  Mr Endersby grunted.

  'Does she know we're here?'

  Marigold shook her head, a distressed look on her face.

  'I didn't dare tell her,' she confessed, ashamed. 'She does normally come for meals if she says she will, so don't worry, I'm sure she'll be here.'

  There was a tap on the door and Joan came in with a letter.

  'It's just been delivered, Mrs Endersby,' she said apologetically. 'The man said it was very urgent or I wouldn't have disturbed you.'

  Marigold's heart was in her mouth. Had Ivy somehow discovered what was awaiting her and taken this way of avoiding it? She took the letter and paced across to the window, her hands trembling.

  The same thought had occurred to Johnny.

  'Is she running scared?' he asked bluntly.

  Marigold, her fingers clumsy, had managed to open the envelope. She shook her head.

  'No, it's from Poppy,' she replied, her tone puzzled.

  Rapidly she skimmed the letter, which was brief, and then felt behind her for a chair.

  Mr Endersby was beside her at once, and guided her back to the chair beside the fire.

  'Read it,' she said tonelessly. 'Read it.'

  Johnny came to read it with him and exclaimed in dismay.

  'America! Why has she gone without saying goodbye? Do you think they really have got married? And why does she say she's scared for David?'

  'She says they were married at Gretna Green at the beginning of the week, and by the time we receive this they will be on a boat from Liverpool,' Mr Endersby said. 'That's plain enough, but why should she be frightened?'

  'I didn't even know she wasn't at the hotel in Coventry. The staff there told me she'd gone out when I went on Thursday. I suppose she must have arranged for them to send this letter. They shouldn't have deceived me.'

  Marigold spoke tonelessly, and with a swift glance at Johnny Mr Endersby indicated the brandy decanter on the sideboard. Johnny fetched a glass and Mr Endersby forced Marigold to drink the brandy.

  While she was sipping it, and some colour had returned to her cheeks, Ivy swept into the room, stopping short for a moment when she saw the visitors and then running with arms outstretched towards Johnny.

  'Johnny darling! How lovely to see you! Where's Lucy? Did she come too, and the children? How are they?'

  Johnny stepped back behind a chair and fended off her embrace.

  'Don't come near me, you despicable little liar!' he said furiously. 'Johnny!' Marigold said warningly, but Johnny, normally slow to anger, was in a positively deadly rage.

  Ivy halted and turned a wide-eyed stare towards her sister.

  'What's the matter?' she asked, glancing around nervously. 'Is someone ill?'

  Mr Endersby cut off Johnny's impetuous reply and took charge.

  'Let's all sit down calmly. Johnny, sit beside Marigold. You, young lady, come and sit here beside me.'

  Ivy approached slowly, looking from one to the other. Johnny was glaring at her, Marigold was staring down at the hands in her lap, twisting them together in agony, and Mr Endersby, a man she had up till now regarded as a rather amiable old buffer, had taken on the aspect of a stern and rather fearsome judge.

  She wanted to defy them all, turn and saunter negligently out of the room, but to her surprised astonishment she discovered that with his eyes fixed unblinkingly on her she dared not.

  'Johnny?'

  Mr Endersby's calm tones gave Johnny time to collect his thoughts. Raving at Ivy would do no good. In brief sentences and unemotional tones, he informed his sister that her habit of making use of his family by untruthfully pretending she was staying with them when she wanted to absent herself from home was despicable, abusing his and Lucy's hospitality and his brotherly love for her.

  'I do not wish to see you at my home ever again,' he said coldly. 'I will not have Lucy subjected to such discourtesy and my children exposed to such a corrupting influence. They are being reared to be honest and your company will contaminate them.'

  Ivy, her face white, tilted her chin defiantly. She could see that this time tears would avail her nothing. Johnny was in no mood to be swayed by sobs and protestations of sorrow and remorse.

  Telling lies would serve no purpose either. Marigold could disprove them if she claimed she had not said she was going to visit Lucy.

  She glanced again at Marigold. Always, before, Marigold had believed and supported her. Surely Marigold would have sympathy with her, if only she could think of a convincing reason for her actions. But Marigold too looked stern and implacable.

  'You also seem to have been instrumental in driving an honest young man out of a job and forcing him and your sister to flee the country,' Mr Endersby said evenly.

  'What?' Ivy was shaken out of her stubborn calm. 'Poppy has – what do you mean?'

  'After your inexplicable behaviour towards David Travers, which unjustly caused him to lose his job, he and Poppy were married earlier this week and have gone to America. She says to escape from you,
for she fears what else you might do to anyone she loves. No doubt you understand the reference.'

  'She didn't even say goodbye!' Marigold said, deep pain in her voice.

  Ivy stared at her.

  'Poppy's left us?' she whispered, and slid silently to the floor.

  'Ivy?' Marigold ran to her sister, but Ivy was in a deep swoon. 'Fetch the doctor, please! Help me get her onto the sofa!'

  Ivy had recovered her senses before the doctor arrived, but after examining her he left a sedative and advised she be kept in bed for a few days. Marigold and Joan helped her upstairs, and the moment she was in bed Ivy fell into a deep sleep.

  'She'll be better in the morning,' Marigold said to Johnny and Mr Endersby, who were waiting rather uncomfortably in the parlour.

  'Was she faking?' Johnny demanded harshly.

  'No, it was a genuine faint. She seems quite distraught at the news that Poppy has gone.'

  'But she didn't deny her actions. Marigold, my dear, will you be able to manage if we leave you?' Mr Endersby asked, worried.

  'Yes, of course. She's asleep now, but I'll give her the sedative as soon as she wakes and that will ensure her a good night. She'll be able to take it in tomorrow.'

  To her relief they soon left, and she sank down into her chair to absorb this latest disaster. Poor, unhappy Poppy, forced to flee from her family because of her fears about her sister, still a child, and yet so deviously determined to make her family dance to her tune.

  'Thank God Pa and Mom aren't alive to see this!' Marigold whispered to herself. At the thought her control gave way and she wept piteously.

  She didn't hear the tap on the door and was unaware Bill had entered the room until he gathered her into his arms. He stroked her hair, talking gently to her until she was able to sit up, blow her nose, and tell him what had happened.

  'I don't know what to do with her,' Marigold said wearily.

  Bill was about to reply when the door of the parlour opened gently and Ivy, her dressing gown wrapped tightly round her, came in.

  'Ivy! You're supposed to be asleep!' Marigold exclaimed, standing up and taking a step towards her sister.

  'I couldn't sleep,' Ivy whispered. 'Have they gone? They didn't want to listen to me. Everyone thinks the worst of me and never lets me explain.'