Once they had left the spreading oaks of their own road, the sun beat hotly down on them. Grandmother’s face was a dark red under her heavy widow’s bonnet, but Malahide turned more pale and it was difficult for him to conceal his dissatisfaction with the outing. Many of the party would have been glad to have left him at home, but Adeline desired his presence, and that was enough for him. Nothing could appease the infant, Piers, until Philip took him on his knee and let him clutch the ends of the reins in his tiny hands. Eden’s straw hat blew off into the ditch and the horses must be stopped and Renny go back to fetch it. He did so with bad grace and, returning, jammed it so far over the little boy’s eyes that now he began to kick and cry. Vera and Meg sat in a seat together, their arms about each other, whispering and laughing. Meg could not remain disapproving. Vera fascinated her, now more than ever.
They turned into the narrow road that led to the lake, where the trees were not tall enough for shade, but standing close enough to keep out what breeze there was. The road was little more than a sandy path, and at its end the horses must be left and the hampers carried to the shore.
The walk over the soft sandy path was an effort to Adeline. She leant heavily on Nicholas’s arm, but pressed forward eagerly to the sight of the lake, which so far this summer she had seen only from her carriage.
Rugs were spread on the coarse grass that grew beneath a group of windswept willows that sent their roots deep into the sand and were tenacious in their growth in spite of drought and storm and winter gale.
What a relief to be settled in their shade! To uncover heads and fan flushed faces with straw hats! There was no one else on the beach. They had the wide sandy stretch and the glittering blue expanse of the lake to themselves.
The bottles of raspberry vinegar that stood icebound in a bucket were opened and glasses were filled. Almost solemnly, their pleasure was so great, the family looked at each other as the sharp, sweet, ice-cold liquid, with its flavour of fresh raspberries, cooled their throats. Even Peep was given a taste, but made a wry face and hiccupped it up again. Eden drank his without taking breath and begged for more. Adeline spilt a little on the deck of his sailing boat, and exclaimed — “Now, I christen this vessel for you — ‘Shamrock!’ And good luck to her!”
Nicholas and Philip smoked their pipes, lounging comfortably on the sand. Renny, with a look over his shoulder at Vera, took the children to the water’s edge. Vera followed and Meg sat disconsolate, feeling that she was not wanted by them, yet longing for their company. Mary took out her work bag and began to darn one of Eden’s socks. Malahide lay passive, sifting the fine sand through his fingers and now and again giving Adeline a smile of secret understanding. Hodge had loosed the horses and led them across the sand to the water’s edge. They bent their heads and drew in deep draughts. A pair of sandpipers walked briskly about, with sidelong glances at the party. A small steamer laden with school picnickers moved slowly past, just near enough for a faint cheer to be audible from her decks.
Adeline gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Nothing like a picnic,” she said. “I like ’em and always shall. Another drop of this raspberry vinegar. Meg, don’t look mopey, child. If you won’t marry, you won’t marry, and that’s all there is to it. Thanks.” She took the proffered glass and put her lips to the cold ruby fluid. Then she took out her heavily chased gold watch.
“There’s just time for a nice bathe before tea,” she said. “You ought to go in, Philip. It might take some of that fat off you.”
“Philip fat!” cried Mary. “He’s nothing of the sort! He’s just nicely covered. He’s a perfect figure.”
“Well, you ought to know,” returned Adeline, staring at her.
Philip answered complacently: —
“I’ve brought along my bathing suit. Have you, Nick?”
“Not I. I can’t endure bathing in fresh water.”
“What about you, Malahide?”
“I bathed in the stream this morning. I found it very depressing. I don’t think I shall go in again. Your mother and Nicholas and I shall judge your performance.”
“Come along, Molly,” said Philip. “Let’s have a dip.”
Molly, all eagerness, put away her darning and produced their bathing suits and towels. Dimples showed in her slender cheeks. She called: —
“Eden, Eden! Do you want to bathe? Bring Peep along and come to Mamma!”
Philip shouted to his eldest son and flung him a faded bathing suit. Vera and Meg scampered to the shelter of a cluster of cedars where Mary was already undressing. Adeline, her massive veil falling about her shoulders, had taken the little boys in charge. As she pulled off their few garments she remarked to Nicholas: —
“Here, on this very spot, I used to undress you and Ernest when you were just so high. You were a little rip, but Ernest was always squealing and timid. I don’t know how your father and I got him. Really, I don’t…. Stand still, Peep, and let Granny put on your vest.” For the baby, who owned no bathing suit, there was a shrunken wool vest which inadequately covered his sturdy infant body. Having them ready she administered a hearty smack on their buttocks which, knowing it was playfully done, they received with shouts of laughter. Eden, grasping Peep’s hand, led him across the sand to where the sparkling blueness invited them.
But before they reached it they were caught up by their father and carried shrieking on his shoulders into the lake. Mary and Meg appeared in blue kilted bathing suits trimmed with white braid, but Vera’s was white with a sky-blue sash and she had wound a scarf of the same colour about her curls. The shortness of her skirt brought an element of Continental daring to the scene.
The three young women and Philip were soon splashing in the water, passing the children from hand to hand. Philip swam outward with both on his back till Molly’s shrieks recalled him. Vera filled Meg with envy by swimming two dozen strokes. Her pretty scarf was soaked and her hair curled more closely than ever.
“Renny! Renny!” cried Eden. “Teach me to swim! Take me out with you!”
Renny came slowly across the sand toward the bathers. He had been watching them from the shelter where he had changed. He looked at Vera, wondering how he could manage to be alone with her. Yet, when they were alone again, what should he say? Make love to her or pretend that all was as it had been before? What would a girl like Vera expect? Let her make the first move, he thought, let her lead the way into whatever bypath of love she chose. He was ready to follow.
“Renny! Renny!” shouted Eden, clinging to Renny’s hand and lifting his own feet from the ground, as though by sheer weight he might command attention.
Ignoring him, Renny went toward Vera, his eyes saying — “Now, what do you want of me?”
“Renny! Renny! Will you teach me to swim?” Eden beat him with small angry fists.
“Yes,” answered his brother. “This is the way.”
He picked him up and strode into the water with him across his arms. When he was waist-high he threw Eden from him with a splash. “There, now, swim! That’s the way I learned.”
Eden struggled, sank, rose floundering and choking, all legs and arms, churning the water in his anguish. Mary came to his rescue, her eyes blazing.
“What a way to treat him! My poor little boy!” She gathered him to her, comforting him.
Adeline called from the shore — “Molly, put him back! Don’t coddle him! Upon my soul, the word ‘mollycoddle’ was invented for you!”
“See me float!” cried Meg. “I’m a marvel at floating.”
“You could not sink if you tried,” laughed Philip, and she began to splash him.
Vera dropped lazily to the water and struck out in a graceful breast stroke. Renny swam on his side, his cheek on the water. With compassion he saw how she struggled to keep up with him, not to give in.
Suddenly she cried, in fright — “Am I out of my depth?”
He laughed and stood up beside her and supported her in his arms. He saw the flash of her white legs in the greenne
ss. She clung to him, laughing into his face.
“It’s so different,” she said, “from the sea. It feels so thin. There’s nothing there. Have you been in the sea?”
“Yes. I went once to Nova Scotia with Maurice.”
“Oh, I wish you could swim in the Mediterranean! It’s so lovely!” She spoke breathlessly.
“I wish I could.” So, she wanted to behave as though nothing had happened. And with all this wide blueness about them! Was she afraid? He added, in a low voice — “With you.”
She gave a nervous little laugh. “You could teach me. I don’t swim very well.”
“But how few girls do! I’ll give you some lessons. I’ll teach you to dive, if you like — when the Show is over. But I must go back to college — I forgot that.”
“Give me a lesson now.”
She surrendered herself to him, his hand under her chest. He felt the throbbing of her heart. “Like this,” he said, “and so — don’t be afraid — let yourself go — you’re too tense.” The living water curled about them. He felt the firm ripples of sand beneath his feet. The sun blazed. “If we were here,” he thought, “at night …” His hands tightened on her. He restrained her movements and, with a slanting look at the shore, where the others were playing with the children, he bent and pressed his lips to hers. She put her wet arms about his neck and held him.
When they returned the preparations for the meal were already on the way. A fine white cloth had been stretched on the sand, across which the trees now cast an agreeable shadow. Philip had laid two fires inside two circles of flat stones piled on top of one another. And on one of these the teakettle already sang. He told Renny to bring more driftwood, at the same time giving him a suspicious look. What had the boy been up to out there? He had seen him bending above Vera in an attitude too motionless for a lesson in swimming. Eden came running with his arms full of dry twigs and, when Renny added smooth driftwood to the flames, they raged vehemently about the kettle and under the large frying pan which Meg now placed on the second fire.
“What are you going to cook in that, Meggie?” asked Renny.
“Ham and eggs. My face is almost blistered. You do it for me?”
“A boy cook ham and eggs!” cried Vera. “He’ll be sure to ruin them.”
“Not he! He’ll fry them better than I could.”
Vera lingered fascinated by his side while he laid slices of ham in the pan, but seeing Philip’s contemplative eyes on her, she turned away and began to talk eagerly to Nicholas.
One by one the golden yokes were discovered in the transparent whites. Renny squatted by the fire, his face intent, his cheeks burning red from the heat. His wet bathing suit clung to his curved lean body.
The waiting for the meal was becoming intolerable to Adeline. Leaning on her stick, she plodded up and down through the sand, now peering into the bucket where the wine lay cooling, now surveying the cloth on which Mary was arranging plates of bread and butter, thick ginger cookies, the coconut cake in a shroud of white shreds, and a bowl of halved peaches. Beside this stood a large glass jug containing thick cream. At the other end of the cloth she had placed a dish of potato salad on crisp lettuce leaves and a golden wedge of Cheddar cheese.
Adeline’s mouth watered. She set her teeth together and trudged back to the fire.
“Keep dipping the fat over the tops of the eggs,” she instructed Renny. “Mind what you’re doing — you’ll have the pan upset!”
He had turned his head aside to avoid a puff of smoke in his eyes. He had just picked up the last egg.
“Careful!” warned Meg. “That egg is to be boiled for Peep. He wouldn’t eat his dinner because of the new tooth that he is cutting. Mother thought he should have an egg for his tea.”
“Look out!” cried Adeline, “you’re spilling the fat!” She poked him in the ribs with her stick while the fat, taking fire, flamed menacingly. Renny dropped the egg from his hand. It broke on the stones and slid, sleek as a lizard, into a crevice.
“Good heavens!” cried Meg. “See what you’ve done! Whatever will Mother say!”
“I’ll have to tell her,” said Renny. “These are done.” He handed the pan to Meg and went to Mary, who was tying the baby’s bib. If she had been angry about his treatment of Eden, what would she be now?
“Look here, Mother,” he said. “I’ve broken Peep’s egg. What shall we do about it?”
“Egg — gegg — gegg —” crowed Peep.
“Oh, how could you be so stupid?”
“Gran poked me with her stick and the smoke went in my eyes at the same moment. I’m awfully sorry.” He looked miserably down on the baby.
“Well,” said Mary, “he’ll just have to have bread and milk, poor lamb!”
But someone had left Peep’s bottle of milk in the sun. It was quite sour. It was too much for Mary. She raged to Philip.
“I’ve never seen such behaviour with food in my life,” she exclaimed. “Your mother simply ravens about the frying pan and makes Renny lose his head so that the baby’s egg is broken. Now Meg has left the jar with his milk in the sun. She’s so careless. What am I to do? I shall simply have to take him and go home.”
Philip knocked out his pipe on the sand. He said, calmly — “There’s a farm near by. Let Renny go and get some milk there for the kid.”
“Mik — mik — mik —” cried Peep, holding out his hands for the milk jar.
“I’ll go with Renny for the milk,” said Vera. “He might spill it. I shan’t mind at all.”
“Nonsense!” said Adeline, who had just come up. “Thin some of the cream with warm water. I’ve given that to my children hundreds of times.”
“No,” refused Mary. “He must have the milk.”
Renny and Vera set out. Again their chance to be alone! They hurried along the smooth path in their bare feet. While they waited at the door of the farmhouse they looked at each other and smiled. They could not draw away from that gaze, nor yet could they look steadily. Their glances wavered, dipped, and rose again like gulls on the wing. She longed to touch his glistening brown shoulder. They laughed and made foolish remarks about the chickens that gathered round them. They carried the little pail of milk between them along the path.
In a quiet spot they set down the pail, and now they were in each other’s arms.
“Vera,” he breathed, “I do like you!”
“Oh, Renny, we should not be doing this!”
“I thought you were hard, but you’re a sweet thing.”
“You’re adorable!”
“How much do you like me?”
“More than you me.”
“You couldn’t. I like you this much.” He told her by kisses.
She whispered — “I’m mad for you, Renny!”
“God — if we didn’t have to go back!”
“We must. They’re waiting.” She drew away from him and hurried along the path.
Once in sight they were greeted by orders to hasten. Ham and eggs had been kept hot for them. The party was now gathered about the cloth. The teasing smell of coffee that bubbled on the fire filled the air. Appetites were enormous except in the two late comers, and they were scarcely noticed once Mary had got Peep’s milk from them. He sat serene on her knee, pausing between mouthfuls of bread and milk to gaze in wonder at the expanse of white cloth, at the array of strange food. Once his grandmother popped a bit of ham into his mouth and he beamed at her the long while it lasted him. Nicholas kept the wine circulating, and Malahide, who had seemed enervated and depressed all the afternoon, became animated. “Perfect weather, a lovely scene, good wine, and charming people — what more could one demand?” he exclaimed. Meg murmured, under her breath — “Your removal.”
With the coffee they disposed themselves more indolently. Renny carried a large cup of it to Hodge, who was eating his meal near the tethered horses. He sat down beside Hodge and offered him a cigarette. They began to talk of Gallant. The fact that other horses from the Jalna stables were ente
red in the Show had sunk to unimportance. All hopes were centred on the colt. When Renny and Hodge talked of him they forgot everything else and brooded only on the beauty of lovely horseflesh.
Mary went and stood by herself on the shore watching the dark rose bars of the afterglow. It was growing cool and she held her slender body in her arms while an aching sadness made her eyes fill with tears. She was happy and, because of her happiness and the lovely colour of the sky, she wanted to weep. The voices of the others came to her, sweet and sad, like evening bells.
A small cold hand reached up to touch hers. Her fingers closed over it with tender pressure.
Eden asked — “Why did you come here, Mummie?”
“To watch the colours in the sky.”
“And on the lake, too. There are colours deep down in the lake.”
“Yes. Do you like them?”
“Do you?”
“Yes. But they make me long for something. You can’t understand that.”
“I do. They make me sad too.”
Philip came across the sand that now lay in shadow. “Time to go! The horses are ready. The girls have the baskets packed and Peep is asleep on Mamma’s lap.”
Eden put up his arms and tugged at his father’s coat. “Oh, I’m so tired! Do you think you could carry me a little way?”
Philip swung him to his shoulder, Mary put her hand in Philip’s arm, but she was reluctant to return, even though she too was tired.
XXV
BONEY
HE HAD HAD A LONELY DAY. The dullness of the morning had been unbearable. The sun was so hot that Adeline had kept the curtains of her bedroom drawn, and when he had complained to her, demanded her attention by a harsh coughing sound ceaselessly repeated, she had laid a square of dark cloth over his cage, cutting him off from all sight of her, from all movement of air. In her excitement over the picnic she had forgotten to remove the cloth and he had languished the rest of the day in a silent house, his only pastime the tearing of cloth to shreds and the spitting out of his seed shells on to the floor.
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 115