by Paul Scott
The sound of a car entering the drive arrested her. She got up.
‘Now,’ she said. ‘Pull yourself together. When everybody’s gone you can start worming it out of her. Pretend I don’t know if you like. But deal with it. Do you understand?’
‘Millie, you don’t know. You’re only guessing. You don’t know anything.’
Mildred leaned over her, lowering her voice but speaking vehemently and distinctly. ‘Two missed periods? Fainting at the office? For God’s sake what more do you want? And today’s not the first time I’ve wondered what was wrong with her. I am her mother. A bloody bad one, but I am that, and I know, I know from the look on her face.’
She went briskly to the door, opened it, and in her ordinary abrasively cheerful voice said, ‘Dicky! What a nice surprise. Aren’t you both rather early? Well, all the better. You’ll stay for lunch, won’t you Dicky? I’ll tell Mahmoud. Sarah dear, you’re looking exhausted. Why don’t you freshen up and get out of that boring old uniform? Dicky, use my bathroom, but go through the dining-room. My sister’s in the bedroom powdering her nose. But literally.’
There were several kinds of footsteps going in different directions away from the hall and presently Fenny heard a man’s in the adjoining bathroom and the click of the bolt on his side of the door. She heard Dicky beginning to urinate – a splash followed by a murmuring silence as he considerately redirected the stream away from the water to the porcelain.
She got up. There was no one in the hall. Sarah’s door was ajar. She tapped and went in. She could see the compact shape of his body, uniformed, and smell its assertive masculine odour. She wanted to hate him but could not. Dimly she had always seen that he represented the kind of force that would make the world safe for her and Arthur while laughing at them. For an instant she entertained the absurd idea that he might be forced to do the right thing. But he was gone, as such men always were – involved in apparently lighthearted but in fact complex affairs that had to do with the world as it really was. For him military status was merely part of a game of the compulsory kind. And in her heart she knew that Sarah had used him as he had used her. But had been less expert. Meanwhile there was the question of the dog. She could not remember the dog’s name but now that it had come into her mind she could not get it out because it was a living thing whose destruction Sarah had opposed with a significant and dangerous passion. Oh God, she thought, let me be wrong, let Millie be wrong.
Just then through the half-open doorway into the bathroom she caught sight of Sarah standing by the handbowl, grasping the side of it with one hand, reaching for the tap with the other. At the same instant in the little spare on the other side of the bathroom the child woke and cried and Minnie’s voice came through quite clearly, speaking to him soothingly. Sarah raised her head, not to look towards the child’s room but straight ahead of her into the mirror above the basin as if the source of the cry were there in her reflection. Then she lowered her head again and twisted the tap on and watched the water running in and away.
*
Dicky Beauvais was kneeling on one leg by the dog’s side stroking its head. The others watched from the safety of the verandah. The dog sat on its withered haunches. It swayed when Dicky stroked it.
‘What do you think, Captain Beauvais?’ Maisie Trehearne asked.
‘I don’t know. The poor old boy looks pretty much a goner.’
‘But don’t you think his coming out means he’s feeling better?’
‘Maybe. On the whole I’d say it’s too late. It’ll be rotten for Sarah.’
‘It’s suffering,’ Nicky insisted. ‘It’s dying on its feet. I should have thought anyone could see that.’
Mildred alone was seated, holding her drink under her chin. When Fenny came out ten minutes later Mildred glanced up but Fenny did not look at her. She went to the head of the steps.
‘Dicky, I’ve told Sarah about Panther. She leaves it to us.’
‘Oh.’ Again he stroked the dog’s head. The neck was arched down, the jaws open. ‘Poor old fellow.’
He stood up. ‘I’d better ring the veterinary officer hadn’t I, Mrs Layton?’
Mildred said nothing. He looked at Fenny.
‘Isn’t Sarah coming out to see for herself?’
‘No.’
‘Perhaps if I could get the dog round to the gharry it would be better for me to take him than bring the vet up here.’
‘I shouldn’t if I were you,’ Mildred called. ‘He could have a fit and you could end up driving over the khud and killing you both. Take him back to the mali’s shed if you can. It’s not the most elevating sight, is it? Or better still get Sarah to do it. After all she’s responsible for keeping the wretched thing alive and for it ending up in this state. She oughtn’t to be allowed just to opt out.’
‘I’ll get him into the shed, Mrs Layton.’ Dicky bent down again.
‘Come on, old boy. Come along. You can make it.’
The servants had gathered at a safe distance. Dicky tried to direct the dog’s attention to them.
Mildred spoke to Fenny who was watching Dicky.
‘Have you persuaded Sarah to go to Calcutta with you?’
‘Yes,’ Fenny said, without looking.
‘Come on Panther, old son,’ Dicky said. ‘Come on. Rabbit.’
Its tail moved once, a slow-motion scything movement across the grass and Maisie Trehearne exclaimed, ‘He wagged his tail! I told you. He’s feeling better. It’s awful to talk about destroying him now, after all Sarah’s done.’
Then she added, ‘We owe so much to dogs,’ and Mildred started laughing: a clear fluting laugh of genuine amusement that made everyone except Dicky down there on the grass turn to look at her in astonishment. Only Dicky noticed the effect that the sounds Mildred was making had on the dog. It lifted its head and snapped at the air or at Dicky’s hand which he jerked out of reach. It began to tremble. It went on snapping as if the peals of Mildred’s laughter were coming at it in some visible form: small predatory birds or maddening insects. Dicky backed away and shouted a warning to Mrs Layton but she did not hear. Her laughter seemed to have become uncontrollable and suddenly the dog twisted its body and began dragging itself round, still snapping at the air, making no sound but moving away from the steps and increasing the width of its circular chase until it was blundering through the nearest of the rose-beds shaking the bushes and scattering petals.
The servants also scattered. Dicky stood, alarmed but on the defensive at the head of the steps with only his bare hands to fight off an attack if the dog took it into its head to go for any of them. But the impact with the rose-bushes had disorientated the animal. It no longer traced a circular pattern but a random one, staggering from bed to bed with a high-arched back and low slung head, wreaking havoc, putting distance between itself and the inhospitable verandah. Suddenly it emitted a stream of pale yellow liquid excreta and then began to drag its hindquarters as though it were dying from that end up. It came to the path between the two rectangular beds and fell on its side. For a while it moved its forelegs, dreamily dog-paddling the air; then it twitched and was still; twitched again and was still again. The intervals between spasms became longer.
Fenny said, ‘It isn’t rabies, is it, Dicky?’
‘No. I’ve seen rabies.’
They waited for a further spasm that didn’t come.
‘That’s that,’ Dicky said.
He went down the steps and called up to Fenny.
‘Perhaps as I’ve handled him I oughtn’t to come back into the house though. Would you phone the vet-johnnie, Mrs Grace? I’ll get something to cover him with. I expect the servants have some sacking.’
He went off towards the servants’ quarters.
A few minutes later he reappeared with a length of gunny, approached the dog’s body from behind and then put the sacking over it.
‘Dicky, what’s all this about not coming into the house?’
Mildred’s voice carried strongly. She ca
me down into the garden. He waited for her. She joined him. The dog’s body was between them. ‘Of course you must come in. You’re staying for lunch.’
‘Mrs Grace is afraid it might have been something like rabies. It wasn’t but I don’t want to risk anything.’
‘There isn’t any risk. It was just a fit. But if you prefer to stay outside until the vet comes by all means do so. Fenny’s been on to him and he’s coming right away. And you must stay to lunch. I’ll need you to cheer Sarah up. Kevin rang me, incidentally. I know about her not feeling well at the daftar. I’m grateful to you for tipping me off.’
‘I felt pretty shabby because she’d made me promise not to mention it in case of worrying you. But I thought her health more important than my word.’
‘Absolutely right.’ She looked down at the heap of sacking. ‘I expect this will be the last straw. But we’ve been cooking up a scheme for Fenny to take her down to Calcutta and get her out of it for a bit. I shall ring Dick Rankin this evening and tell him she oughtn’t to go into the daftar between now and then. Come along, Dicky. Don’t let’s stand here. I’m not feeling so hot myself.’
She moved away. In a moment or two Dicky was walking at her side.
‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you, Mrs Layton. And something I want to ask you about. I was going to tell Sarah this morning, that’s why I was looking for her and found her – like she was.’
Mildred had stopped. She smiled. She said, ‘I hope it’s nothing unpleasant.’
‘Not unpleasant exactly. I mean – I’ve been posted. The order came this morning. I’ve got to report to the military secretary at Fourteenth Army.’
‘When?’
‘I must leave tonight. There’s some transport going down to Ranpur. I’m flying from Ranagunj tomorrow morning.’
‘To Comilla?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it promotion?’
‘I’ve no idea what’s entailed. My guess is I’ll be in Imphal inside a week.’
‘I won’t commiserate,’ Mildred said. ‘I expect you’re glad. No young officer wants to be stuck in a place like this for long. But we’re going to miss you. You’ve been an absolute brick. Like part of the family.’
Dicky blushed.
‘You’ve been very kind to me,’ he said.
‘You had something to ask me about.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry because it seems the wrong sort of time.’
‘But it’s the only time you have, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t quite know how to put it. Probably you guess. I mean, you have a right to. I’ve taken up a great deal of your daughters’ time – Sarah’s and Susan’s. What you said, about being part of the family, that’s what it’s been like for me. I was terrifically pleased being asked to be godfather to Susan’s baby. The thing is, one day I’d like really to be part of it.’
Dicky’s blush had deepened. But he kept his eyes manfully on hers.
‘I know there can’t be anything offiical,’ he continued. ‘I mean, in the circumstances. But I didn’t want to leave without telling you what I feel and asking if you think there’s a chance, and of course if you’d approve.’
‘Are you saying you’d like to be John’s and my son-in-law, Dicky?’
‘Yes.’
Mildred put a hand on his arm.
‘My dear chap. I can’t actually think of anything nicer. That’s all I can say. But you’ve already appreciated that. I’m sorry you have to go without being able to say anything to her, but perhaps it’s as well. I made up my mind some time ago that all questions of this kind would have to wait until my husband comes home. But an understanding – not necessarily binding – but an understanding between the two of you would have been a different matter. You’ve thought hard about it, haven’t you Dicky? It isn’t just a case of your feeling sorry for her?’
‘Sorry? No, why should I feel sorry––?’
‘People exaggerate so. But it’s only a temporary set-back and she’s getting better every day. She’s had the most ghastly luck when you work it out. Later on she’ll need someone like you, Dicky, but I wouldn’t want you to take it all on unless you were absolutely sure. I must confess I was rather hoping for something like this to give her back a feeling of stability. I’m sure it’s all she needs. That, and someone she can lean on, really depend on in the future. Personally, I couldn’t be happier. I think the form is for me to talk to her, when that’s possible, and to let you know what sort of reaction I get and then for you to start writing to her to tell her a bit of what you feel, but not too much. She needs time as well as reassurance.’
She tapped his arm. ‘Now come along in and have a drink. I suggest we keep this entirely to ourselves, at least for the time being, but you and I will know what we’re drinking to.’
‘Mrs Layton—’
‘What, Dicky?’
‘I’m afraid I must have made the most awful mess of it—’
‘Mess? What do you mean?’
‘You were talking – you were talking about Susan.’
Mildred let go of his arm. She studied his face. The blush had gone. He looked quite pale, for Dicky.
‘Weren’t you?’ she asked.
He shook his head. Briefly she touched her own, tracing the outline of her left eyebrow, and then put her hand to her throat, linking the little finger into the string of seed pearls. She smiled but her eyes showed no amusement nor for that matter embarrassment at having jumped to the wrong conclusion.
‘I’m so sorry. I’d no idea you felt like that about Sarah. Has she?’
‘I hope, a bit. But I don’t know. I was going to speak to her today.’
‘Yes, I see. Of course there was a time when I wondered. But then when Teddie was killed I thought you realized it had been Susan all the time.’
She moved away from him, a pace or two; but stopped and said, ‘It’s up to you of course, but my advice would be to say nothing just yet.’
‘Would you tell me why, Mrs Layton?’
The pearls had become twisted. But this was the only sign of agitation.
‘I shouldn’t want you to leave Pankot with your hopes completely dashed.’
‘I’d risk that. And it might be otherwise, mightn’t it?’
‘Perhaps. But I don’t think so. I don’t get the impression she’s fond of you like that. I must take your word for it that so far as you’re concerned the scales have finally gone down in her favour. You have been thrown together more by Susan’s illness. I should be surprised if she feels the same about you but – let’s say I’m wrong. Then I’d have to tell you I have reservations about your coming to any kind of understanding. I’m sorry if that sounds unfair or illogical. But what could have been a good thing in Susan’s case, a good thing for you both, wouldn’t necessarily be in Sarah’s and yours. With Susan there’s the element of dependence, the question of the child, the need she has to feel wanted again, which is why I asked you whether you were sure, absolutely sure, about taking it all on. But Sarah’s very independent. She’s about and around, if you see what I mean. I’d hate you to go off to Burma or wherever, feeling chipper, and then get a letter saying she’s met someone else.’
‘Is there someone else, Mrs Layton?’
‘Someone adored from a distance?’ Mildred smiled. ‘I simply can’t say. Sarah’s never taken me into her confidence. She’s always been the quiet introspective type. But she’s pretty determined and she can be impulsive. Susan’s the one who feels the need to settle down to an orderly kind of existence. I was never absolutely happy about her choice of Teddie and I’m pretty sure she ended up regretting it. But they both rushed into it and I think a lot of her trouble is that she’s feeling guilty about him.’
‘Guilty?’
‘I believe that when you turned up she realized what a mistake she’d made. Perhaps she feels it showed in her letters to him.’
‘Did she ever say anything to you, Mrs Layton?’
Mildred had folded her ar
ms but still played with the necklace. The movements of her fingers were more assured.
‘No, Dicky. And don’t run away with any ideas. It’s all much too complicated. You seem to have made your choice anyway and apparently it’s not Susan. Let’s go in. I’m dying for a drink and I’m sure you are. At least we can drink to your safe return. That’s the important thing.’
The verandah was now unoccupied. Everyone had gone indoors to avoid the sight of the heap of sacking. Weeks later, sitting on an empty upturned ammunition box and resting his pad of paper on his knee, Dicky ended a letter to Sarah: ‘There was a lot I wanted to talk about that last afternoon in Pankot but somehow everything conspired against it. My fondest love to you. And to Susan. And of course to my godson.’
II
She woke to the strong sweet smell of roses and did not need to open her eyes to know that they were yellow. In any case if she opened her eyes the scent and the roses would almost certainly go away, dismal proof that she was only dreaming them. She turned her head and slowly let the white room come into focus. The scent was fainter but it had not gone and she guessed she was not alone.
She looked round into the massed pale yellow velvet petals of the flowers which Sarah had placed on the pillow and was holding there with her left hand.