‘Such a dull journey – nothing to look at the whole way down, and no one in the carriage to talk to. Really, English people are most unfriendly! There was quite a nice-looking man with two papers, but did he offer me one? Oh, dear no! Didn’t think me grand enough to be noticed, I suppose. But that’s the way wherever you go – if you’re not in the swim you might as well be dead. Or better!’
Janet had to give Ninian marks for the way he handled her. He listened in a sympathetic manner with an occasional murmur of assent, and she responded with mournful satisfaction. Her restricted quarters, her landlady’s temper, the rise in the cost of living, the incivility in shops, the indifference and neglect of a once enthusiastic public – the stream of complaint flowed on with hardly a pause for breath.
Janet, dropped at the Vicarage gate, could hear the sound of it above the hum of the departing car. She looked at her watch and found that Stella would not be out for another ten minutes. The morning had been hazy, but the sky had cleared, and now the sun was warm. She walked back past the Vicarage to the row of cottages beyond, their gardens gay with autumn flowers. There really was nothing so pretty as an English village. The first cottage belonged to the sexton. His great-grandfather had lived in it and done the same office. It was he who had begun to shape the holly hedge into cock-yolly birds and an arch. The birds sat one on either side of the arch now, very stiff and shiny, and a hundred years old. Mr Bury was extremely proud of them. Old Mrs Street next door had a fine show of zinnias, snapdragons, and dahlias. She had a son in the gardening line and he kept her in plants, but she didn’t hold with all these things he got out of books. What she planted grew, and you couldn’t say better than that.
There was a regular row of gardens on this side. On the other there was a paddock and the long winding drive which led up to Hersham Place, which stood empty because nowadays no one could afford to live in a house with thirty bedrooms. The lodge was let to Jackie Trent’s mother, who was said to be related to the family. She was a good-looking young woman, and the village talked about her. She spent a good deal of her time making herself look smart, but she didn’t mend Jackie’s clothes, and there wasn’t a cottage in the place that wouldn’t have been ashamed of her unweeded garden. It was certainly very untidy – like Jackie.
As Janet passed, Esmé Trent came out. She was bare-headed, and her hair shone in the sun. It had been brightened to something much more decorative than its original shade, and her eyebrows and lashes proportionately darkened. She had chosen a vivid lipstick. Altogether there was more make-up than is usual in the country. For the rest, she wore grey flannel of an admirable cut, and from the fact that she had on nylons and high-heeled shoes, and that she carried a smart grey handbag, it seemed unlikely that she was merely going to fetch Jackie. She went down the road, walking briskly, and by the time Janet had turned back and reached the Vicarage she was to be seen getting on to the Ledbury bus.
Mrs Lenton was out in the front cutting dahlias. She had the same round blue eyes and fair hair as her two little girls, and she had been born with a disposition to laugh and take things easily. In one way it made her very agreeable to live with, but it also involved her in getting behind with the things which she ought to have been doing when she was doing something else. She had meant to do the flowers after breakfast, but there hadn’t been time and she was hurrying over them now with half her mind on the milk pudding she had left in the oven. The sight of Esmé Trent disappearing into the bus distracted her. Her fair skin flushed, and she said in quite an angry tone,
‘Did you see that, Miss Johnstone? There she goes, and goodness knows for how long – hours very likely! And that poor little boy left to go back to an empty house and eat up anything she can be bothered to leave for him! And he’s only six – it’s shocking! I’ve kept him here once or twice, but she doesn’t really like it – told me she had made perfectly adequate arrangements – so I don’t like to do it any more.’
Janet said, ‘It’s too bad.’
Mrs Lenton cut a dahlia fiercely.
‘I wouldn’t mind what she said, but she takes it out on Jackie! And it’s all very well for John to say we must be charitable, but when people do things to children I can’t!’
The three little girls ran out, Jackie lagging behind them. Ellie Page, the Vicar’s cousin who taught them, came as far as the step, but when she saw Janet she turned back. Mary Lenton called to her.
‘Ellie, come here and meet Miss Johnstone.’
She came with some reluctance. Janet couldn’t make her out. She wasn’t pretty, but she had a kind of shy grace. The children enjoyed their lessons, and why on earth should she look at Janet as if she was an enemy, or at the very least someone with whom to walk warily. When she spoke her voice had an unusual tone, sweet and rather high. She said without preliminaries,
‘I expect Stella will have told you about the dancing-class. It’s this afternoon at three. Miss Lane comes out from Ledbury.’
Mary Lenton turned round with the gold and orange dahlias in her hand.
‘Of course – I knew there was some reason why I had to do the flowers! We get about half a dozen children, and most of them stay to tea! Stella does always. Oh, and perhaps Jackie would like to come in. He doesn’t take dancing, but he could watch.’ She caught at him as he went by scuffing his feet. ‘Darling, wouldn’t you like to come back this afternoon and watch the dancing and have tea?’
Jackie kicked at the gravel and said, ‘No!’
‘But, darling-’
He twisted away from her and ran out of the gate. Ellie Page said in a plaintive tone,
‘Oh, dear, he really is a disagreeable child.’
Chapter Thirteen
Adriana came down to lunch with plans made for all of them. It annoyed her a good deal to find that Geoffrey was not there.
‘I shall rest for an hour and then take Mabel for a drive. If Geoffrey intended to go off like this he should have let me know. I suppose he hasn’t by any chance taken the Daimler?’ She fixed a demanding stare on Edna, who fidgeted with her table-napkin.
‘Oh, no – of course not. I mean, how could he, when Ninian had it to meet Mabel?’
Adriana gave her short red hair a toss.
‘Implying that nothing else stopped him from taking my car without so much as asking whether I wanted it myself! And don’t say he couldn’t have known I was going to use it, because that is merely aggravating! If you leave me alone, I shall probably have got over being annoyed by the time he comes home. I suppose he took the Austin. For all he knew, I might have wanted to let Ninian have it. Where has he gone?’
Edna crumbled the bread beside her plate.
‘I really don’t know. I didn’t ask him.’
Adriana laughed.
‘Perhaps it was just as well – men hate it. Especially when they’re up to mischief. Not, of course, that Geoffrey-’ She left the sentence in the air and laughed again.
Ninian struck in with a light ‘Aren’t you being a little severe, darling?’ to which she replied, ‘Probably,’ and helped herself to salad.
‘Anyhow,’ she continued, ‘if Geoffrey isn’t here he can’t drive us. Meriel will have to. No, Ninian – I want you for something else. We will drop you and Janet in Ledbury, and you can change the library books and do some shopping for me. That is to say, Janet will do the shopping and you will carry the parcels.’
Janet said,
‘I shall have Stella to fetch.’
‘It’s the dancing-class, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter how long she stays at the Vicarage. We can pick her up on the way back. Now that’s all fixed, and I don’t want to hear any more about it’
Mabel Preston spoke in a resigned voice.
‘I do usually rest in the afternoon, you know.’
Adriana said briskly,
‘And so do I, but an hour is quite as long as is good for us. One mustn’t let oneself get into bad habits. Well then, it’s all settled, and everyone must be ready punctually
at a quarter to three.’
Ninian was allowed to drive the car as far as Ledbury. There was a horrid moment after they got there when Adriana seemed to be in some doubt about letting him go.
‘Meriel is such a jerky driver,’ she said. ‘Yes, you are, my dear, and it’s no good your looking like a thunderstorm about it.’ She beamed at Janet. ‘I hope you are grateful to me for letting you have our only young man. Now, Mabel, I’m going to take you round by Rufford’s Tower. I shan’t attempt the climb myself, but Meriel will go up with you. The view should be perfect today.’
Mabel was still protesting that she hated heights and that nothing would induce her to climb the tower, when with a noisy change of gears they drove away.
Ninian laughed.
‘Adriana at her most peremptory! What’s the odds the wretched Mabel will be made to toil up to the top?’
They changed the books and worked through a dull list of household shopping. There really seemed to be no good reason why they should be doing it, since with the exception of the books everything could have been ordered by telephone.
However, as Ninian said, there wasn’t any point about looking the gift-horse in the mouth.
‘Actually, you know, I think Adriana is trying to throw us together.’
Janet said, ‘Nonsense!’ and was admonished.
‘Now there you are being hasty. And not the first time I have had to tell you about it either! A spot of matchmaking would be a diversion for Adriana, and it would have the added attraction of being quite certain to annoy Meriel.’
‘Why should she want to annoy Meriel?’
‘Darling, don’t ask me, but it is quite obvious that she does. At a guess I should say that she just plants a dart wherever she can. No real harm intended, but a distinct pleasure in seeing whether she can’t make any of us rise. If we do, it’s a point to her. If we can ward it off or throw it back, well, that’s a point to us. It’s a kind of game.’
Janet said soberly,
‘It’s the kind of game that makes people hate you.’
Ninian laughed.
‘Do you know, I’ve got an idea she would find that quite exhilarating.’
They were to be picked up by the corner of the station approach at a quarter past four, Adriana declaring that five o’clock was quite early enough for tea, and that anyhow they would be home by the quarter to. But at twenty to four Ninian declared that only immediate refreshment would save him from an ingrowing anti-shopping complex which would probably become chronic.
‘And just think how inconvenient you are going to find that!’
Janet looked at him in what she meant to be a repressive manner.
‘I?’
‘Naturally. You wouldn’t be able to risk bringing it on. No little shopping-list pressed into my hand with a farewell kiss as I rush off to the office in the morning.’
Ignoring all but a single startling word, Janet caught her breath and said,
‘The office?’
‘Of course. Didn’t I mention it? On the first of October I become a wage-slave in a publishing firm. I shall have a pay-packet, and an office desk in a back room looking on to a mews.’
He saw her face change. It became warm and eager. She said,
‘Oh, Ringan!’ And then in a hurry, ‘Do you mind dreadfully?’
He slipped a hand inside her arm and gave it a squeeze.
‘I wouldn’t be doing it if I did. Actually, I think it’s going to be quite interesting. It’s Firth and Saunders, you know. You remember Andrew Firth. We’ve always been friends, so when I found there was an opening with his people I thought I’d put in old Cousin Jessie Rutherford’s money. Andrew said they’d probably take me, and they did. I’ve finished another book, so I’ve got something in hand.’
Janet did not say anything for a moment. They walked along past the shop windows. The town was full, people brushed past them. This wasn’t public property. He was telling her what he hadn’t told Star. He had always told her things, but he had generally told Star too. She said,
‘I thought your book did well – the second one?’
‘It did. And the next is going to do better, and so forth and so on. But this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop writing – I’ve made quite a good plan about that. Now this is where we turn off and get our cup of tea. It’s a good place to talk.’
A stone’s throw down the narrow crooked street there hung the sign of a golden kettle, very bright and new. The place it advertised could hardly have been much older without falling to pieces. It had windows dim with bottle-glass, interior visibility of no more than a couple of yards, and beams which threatened anyone over six foot with concussion. As they threaded their way across a floor thick with small tables, Ninian bent to whisper,
‘Actually, The Kettle is a joke. People come here if they don’t want to be recognized, and then find themselves bumping into everyone they most want to avoid. But there are some really good hide-outs down at the far end.’
They achieved a table in a nook discreetly screened from the public gaze. A faint light smouldered overhead in an orange bulb. Janet wondered how bad the tea would be. In her experience medievalism very often failed to cover a multitude of sins. But when it came, in a squat orange teapot very difficult to pour from, it really wasn’t bad at all, and the cakes were good. Ninian ate four, and went on talking about his publishing job.
‘You see, I don’t want the books to be a matter of bread and butter. I think it’s fatal – or it would be for me. I want to be able to say I don’t care what the public likes, I’m going to write what I damn well choose. If I choose to hammer at a thing for a year, I don’t want there to be anything to stop me. And if I have an urge to do a firework and let it off in everyone’s face, I want to be able to do that. The only trouble is that I’m a pretty regular eater, and the sordid soul of commerce does expect to have its bills paid. In fact, darling, there simply has to be something one can use for money. So I thought this publishing idea was rather a brainwave. A life of honest toil doing the fellow author in the eye or giving him a helping hand, according to which end of the stick you are looking at, and quite a reasonable pay-packet. It’s a good investment for the money too. I don’t suppose anyone is going to bother about nationalizing publishing for quite a long time yet, and meanwhile there will be the pay-packet.’
Janet put down her cup. Now that her eyes were getting accustomed to the gloom she could just see where the saucer was. He said,
‘No comment? Don’t you ask me what I want with a nice regular pay-packet?’
‘Am I supposed to?’
‘Oh, I think so. But I’ll tell you anyway. I’m thinking of getting married, and all the best statistics go to show that wives prefer a regular income. It saves awkwardness in the fish queue. They don’t like waiting until the cod has been tied up in newspaper and then having to ask the fishmonger to let the bill stand over until the next book comes out. It tends to lower the social standing and prevents other people giving you tick.’
Janet poured out another cup of tea. The pot burned her finger and she put it down in a hurry. Ninian said,
‘Still no comment?’
‘No one expects credit for fish. At least not unless you run a weekly or a monthly book, and you’ve got to be a very good customer for anyone to let you do that.’
‘Well, I’m not so hot on fish anyhow, so just make a mental note not to give it me more than twice a week.’
There was a pause before she said, ‘I don’t like that way of talking.’
‘No?’
‘No. And the girl you’re going to marry wouldn’t care about it either.’
He said in a laughing voice,
‘Well, you ought to know! Let’s change the subject. There are more romantic things than fish. Let us consider the question of a flat. I have secret advance information about one that I think would do. The chap who is in it has been offered a job in Scotland, and he has agreed to let me take over his lease. We can’
t argy-bargy over it – that’s why I’m telling you this now. I thought we could run up to town tomorrow and get it clinched.’
Janet looked straight in front of her. The screened recess which had seemed so dark when they felt their way into it now appeared to offer her very little shelter. She felt his eyes on her, with just what look she thought she knew or could guess – mocking, teasing, darting here and there in search of a joint in her armour. And even if she could close her face against him, defend eye and lip, breath and colour, he had brought with him from the days before she had known any need to defend herself a trick of entry, a way to beguile her from her guard. She said in the most matter-of-fact tone she could manage,
‘When it comes to taking a flat, it will be for the girl who is going to live in it to say whether she likes it or not.’
‘Naturally. But I would like you to see it.’
‘I have Stella to look after.’
‘She can stay at the Vicarage for lunch. She always does when Nanny has a day off. Star has an arrangement with Mrs Lenton. We can catch the nine-thirty and be back by half past four. You see, it really is important for you to see if the flat will do. He wants to leave some things like linoleum, and a lot of curtains which haven’t got an earthly chance of fitting the place they are going to in Edinburgh. It’s part of an aunt’s house, and he says the windows are nine foot high.’
A heartening flash of anger enabled Janet to face him with colour in her cheeks.
‘I told you before I don’t like that sort of talk!’
‘But, darling, we’ll have to have linoleum and curtains, and suppose I got them and you said you couldn’t live with them-’
‘I have no intention of living with them.’
His face changed suddenly. His hand caught hers.
The Silent Pool Page 8