'I shall look out for something for Anne-Marie and Sally, next time I go there,' she told Bryony happily. 'They sell just the kind of things that appeal to the young.'
Bryony piloted her into the car.
'We'd better go and collect the girls from school now,' she remarked, glancing at her watch. 'We'll just be in time.'
St. Monica's was some distance away, but they reached it before the usual closing time to find the place empty and the big gates locked. Puzzled, they drove round to the front entrance, and learned from an elderly Sister working in the garden that an important personage had been visiting the principal schools in the neighbourhood that morning and had begged a half-holiday for the pupils.
'They all went home two hours or more ago,' she said. 'Some of the children rang up their parents and asked to be collected, but most were able to catch buses, if they hadn't bicycles.'
They thanked the old Sister and started for home.
'We shall find them waiting for us,' Aunt Isabel remarked comfortably. 'And I shouldn't be surprised if they brought some of their friends back to look at their Carnival dresses. You're very good, doing so much for them. Even Perry notices it, and thinks it remarkably kind of you.'
'I'm pleased to hear it.' Bryony steered the little car deftly through the heavy traffic which they were now encountering. 'I'd never be surprised, though, if he suddenly flew into a fury with me.'
'Oh, he's not as bad as all that,' Aunt Isabel assured her hastily. 'He's short-tempered, I agree, when he's tired and worried—and those are the very times, it seems to me, when these young sisters of his—or maybe Tina and Solomon—play him up. It's not intentional. They just don't think.' And then she went on thoughtfully: 'When the girls are off his hands, I shouldn't be surprised if he married Laura Forrest. She adores him—wouldn't resent it if he treated her in rather a casual way, put his work first.'
'And would you live with them?' Bryony asked her.
Aunt Isabel laughed.
'What do you think? Can you imagine Laura wanting me, or me settling down happily with her? We don't like each other now, though we manage to coo like turtle doves. Living at close quarters, there would soon be some fierce pecking.'
Bryony smiled, and Aunt Isabel went on reflectively: 'A hotel! On the edge of Port-of-Spain, by choice, where I could get to church and play bridge and exchange hospitality with my old cronies. That would suit me until I got really decrepit, then I'd have to find some kind, sensible nuns to take me in.'
They reached home to find that Anne-Marie and Sally had not yet arrived. To Bryony's relief, Peregrine was out on his rounds. In her own view he was far too strict with his sisters, behaving like a Spanish grandee or a Moslem sheikh. All this business of escorting them to and from school struck her as absurd. But to oppose him at this stage would, she felt, be a mistake. She would have to use gentle persuasion, as she came to know him better. She would have to make plain to the girls, too, that they must give up behaving like wilful children, and build up his trust in them. That he was likely to be easy-going, if he knew he could rely on their being truthful and straightforward.
She was even more thankful over Peregrine's absence when, half an hour later, she and Aunt Isabel, enjoying cool drinks on the loggia at the back of the house, were startled by the sound of two scooters tearing up the drive. They circled the house and drew up by the loggia—two boys, each with a girl on the back of his machine. And the girls, laughing, and a shade defiant, were Sally and Anne-Marie.
'Good gracious, Frank! What are you and Bernard up to?' Aunt Isabel had recognised them at once.
'I'll explain,' Anne-Marie exclaimed eagerly. 'Go and get some cold drinks, Sally—for the four of us.' And then she quickly introduced them to Bryony.
They seemed to her pleasant, ordinary boys, and she was puzzled by Peregrine's dislike of them—a little noisy and boastful, perhaps, but boys of that age— seventeen or so, she guessed—were often like that.
Aunt Isabel folded her lips into a disapproving line and said nothing, but Anne-Marie launched out at once on to a stream of eloquence. She and Sally were sick to death of this nonsense of being taken backwards and forwards to school. It was bearable when Chris ran them in and out; after all, he didn't have to go in specially. But now——-
Perry had said it was too far for them, to use push- bikes, and thought the buses, which brought them within a mile of the house, were overcrowded and stuffy. But Frank and Bernard had friends in a garage in Port-of-Spain, and as they all had a half-holiday this afternoon, they had gone there to see two second-hand scooters which had just come in.
'We've been trying them out,' she went on enthusiastically, 'and the man said they were just the job for us. Of course, Sally will have to wait for a couple of months, until she's sixteen, before she can ride hers. But they were too much of a bargain to miss.'
'But you haven't actually bought them—without asking your brother's permission?' Bryony was aghast.
'We haven't paid for them yet, but we've got the money all right. Aunt Isabel has always been great on our saving for something important—and this is it.'
Sally came along then with a tray of glasses.
'We knew Perry would be out now,' she observed cheerfully. 'We want you to have a look at the scooters, Bryony. Try them out, in fact. You told us you had one once, when you were at that Home Economics place.'
'I was considerably older than either of you—and anyway, it was years ago,' Bryony expostulated.
'You surely haven't forgotten how to ride one,' Frank remarked in a tone which struck her as faintly insolent.
Anne-Marie flashed him a warning look—a look which Bryony intercepted. On her guard at once, and feeling that she understood something, at least, of Peregrine's distrust of this boy, Bryony made up her mind.
'I'm not arguing with you,' she said, 'and I'm not trying out any scooters. When Peregrine comes back, I'll put the matter to him. Meanwhile, Frank, when you and Bernard have finished your fruit juice you can get on those scooters and push off home.'
Anne-Marie and Sally looked highly indignant over this, but Frank shrugged his shoulders in an impudent gesture, and Bernard stared stolidly in front of him. Neither made any attempt to finish their drink.
And then there was the purr of an engine as a car came quietly up the drive, and along came Peregrine and Laura Forrest.
What might have been a most embarrassing moment was saved by the arrival, within seconds, of another car.
Bryony had already met one of Peregrine's partners. Now Dr. O'Dane, the last of the trio, who specialised in cardiac ailments, had come along with his wife and family to meet the newcomer from England.
In the general bustle the presence of Frank and Bernard made no great impression. The O'Dane youngsters—three lively redheads—knew the other boys slightly, and their parents were full of friendly chat, greeting Bryony with a kindliness that warmed her heart.
Solomon appeared quickly with a fresh tray of cool drinks, followed by Gloria and Pearl, his small grandchildren, each carrying, their faces wreathed in smiles, a plate of biscuits. Having set them down on the tiled table, they came running to Bryony for approval, cuddling up against her, and she gave them each an encouraging squeeze, telling the company: 'My two assistants. I don't know what I'd do without them.' And whispering to them: 'Off with you, now! And tell Granny you should have a bit of something nice for being clever girls.'
There was general amusement as the children scampered off, giggling—only Laura looking bored— and Mrs. O'Dane observed genially: 'I can see you are settling down to West Indian life, Miss Moore. I hope you'll be very happy out here.'
To her relief, Frank and Bernard now made a move to go. They had realised, she thought, that this was no time to broach the thorny subject of scooters.
But Frank, having made a general good-bye, remarked coolly to Peregrine; 'By the way. Dr. Gray, Bernard and I brought these second-hand scooters up on appro, for Anne-Marie and Sally. They're a ba
rgain price, and of course would save Miss Moore no end of trouble, driving the girls backwards and forwards to school.'
'We've tried them,' Sally chimed in, ignoring Anne- Marie's nudge. 'We'd soon get the hang of them.'
'Perhaps in a year or two we can think about scooters.' Peregrine looked more tired than annoyed. 'At the moment I'm afraid I'm not for them.'
'But the girls practically agreed to buy them,' Bernard declared blusteringly. 'The man at the garage——-'
'What garage?' Peregrine demanded swiftly.
'Oh, it's a new one, quite small—you wouldn't know it.' It was Frank who spoke.
'Well, you'll kindly take them back. And if you have any difficulty, tell them to ring me. Incidentally, it's not very wise to deal with small, unknown garages that spring up overnight.'
Sulkily the boys mounted the scooters and went off, watched with equal sullenness by Anne-Marie and Sally. When they had gone, Dr. O'Dane told Peregrine : 'You were right to take a firm line. Apart from anything else, the odds are those scooters are stolen. I heard only yesterday that the police are on the lookout for several that have disappeared lately.'
'So you see what you've been saved from, my dears!' Laura looked across at Anne-Marie and Sally with a sweet smile.
The remark met precisely the reception that might have been expected. Contemptuous silence.
Mrs. O'Dane tried quickly to pour oil on the troubled waters. She said, in that warm, friendly Irish voice of hers: 'We've really come to ask you all to a picnic on Sunday afternoon. We plan to go to Manzanilla Bay.' And the eldest of the three O'Dane boys explained: 'We thought Miss Moore might enjoy a swim there. And later in the month, when the moon's up earlier, we might fix a barbecue. What do you think, Anne-Marie?'
'Miss Moore certainly deserves some relaxation after all the work she's put into your Carnival costumes.' It was Aunt Isabel who spoke.
Anne-Marie had a visible struggle with herself before she answered, and for a minute Bryony thought she was going to make an excuse for refusing. But to her immense relief the girl said with an effort: 'It's a grand idea. Aunt Isabel's right, Bryony's had no fun at all since she came.'
The atmosphere eased now, and plans were made for the outing—the fly in the ointment, so far as Bryony was concerned, being the inclusion of Laura in the invitation. It was natural that she should be asked. People probably looked upon her as Peregrine's unofficial fiancee. But her presence always acted as a blight, making everyone—apart from Peregrine, she supposed—feel at their worst.
And within a few minutes this was striking her even more forcibly.
They were all chatting peaceably, out there on the loggia, only the girls maintaining a slight stiffness, when Dr. O'Dane asked her pleasantly: 'By the way, Miss Moore, I know it's a very long shot, but are you any relation to Sir Carlingford Moore, the famous surgeon?'
'He was my father's cousin. They died in the same year.' The answer shot out, and she thought swiftly: 'This is my chance of telling them about this adoption business. As Hugh said, there's nothing whatever to fuss about. Hundreds of people in England are adopted, and make nothing of it.'
But somehow the words wouldn't come; and she was not helped by Aunt Isabel remarking wonderingly: 'Why ever didn't you tell us, Bryony? Related to a wonderful man like that! What about his widow?'
'She's living in Cornwall, I believe,' Bryony began, painfully aware of flushing. 'But as a matter of fact——-'
'What a small world!' The conversation was running away from the Moore family now, as Aunt Isabel and Mrs. O'Dane compared notes of such striking coincidences as a Mr. Smith of London proving to be the brother of a Miss Smith of Montreal.
The only person who seemed to notice her embarrassment was Laura, who watched her with an oddly thoughtful expression, as though she suspected a mystery here.
Before long the O'Danes began to talk of getting on their way, and while Peregrine saw them to their car, Laura got up and threw out one of her wistful remarks about the loneliness of meals taken in solitary state in her own house.
The hint was so obvious that Bryony, in her capacity as housekeeper, felt obliged to say at once, as pleasantly as she could: 'There's plenty of food for a guest, Mrs. Forrest, if you feel like staying on.'
Laura's reaction to this was to turn her back on her and say to Aunt Isabel, as though Bryony had not spoken at all: 'Would you mind if I bore Peregrine off to dinner with me tonight? Like the rest of us, he likes a change sometimes.'
'Do you really think it a change for him being in your company?' Anne-Marie suddenly snapped. 'He might, you know, prefer someone young and pretty, like Bryony.'
In the moment of shocked silence that followed she ran off, followed by Sally, and Peregrine, returning slowly to the loggia, found Aunt Isabel and Bryony looking horrified, and Laura furious.
'What's up?' he asked wearily. 'Where are the girls?'
'Anne-Marie has been very rude to Laura,' Aunt Isabel told him. 'She's upset over this scooter business, I suppose, and took it out of the first person she could.'
'I'm extremely sorry, Laura. Bryony will see that she apologises to you, I'm sure.'
'That I hardly expect,' was Laura's quick reply. 'It's unfair to expect anyone of Miss Moore's age to manage these high-spirited, impulsive young sisters of yours.' Then with an attempt at a whimsical smile, she continued: 'You really would have been wiser to arrange for them to stay at St. Monica's as boarders, Perry dear. Indeed, it's not too late to do this now.'
'Don't worry, Bryony will cope with them. Now what about stopping to dinner, Laura?'
'Out of the question, Perry.' Laura's chin went up. Then she went on, in a different tone: 'If you'd come and keep me company instead, it would be a real kindness.'
'Sorry, Laura, but I specially want to be home tonight. Apart from some work I have on hand, I must have a talk with Bryony. If you won't stay, I'll run you home.'
'Then some other time, perhaps.' Laura was making an evident effort to sound poised and philosophical. 'Good-night, Aunt Isabel,' and she gave Miss Fanier a kiss. 'Good-night, Miss Moore,' flinging the words over her shoulder. And off she went, with Peregrine for escort.
'Tiresome woman!' Aunt Isabel plainly had no time for Laura. 'But what stupid things those girls are. They don't want their brother to fall for Laura— neither do I—but the ruder they are to her, the more Perry will sympathise with her.' She gave a great sigh. 'Rather you than me, when it comes to handling the situation.'
Loth though she was to have a showdown with Anne-Marie and Sally, Bryony braced herself for the ordeal and went in search of them right away. She found them both in Anne-Marie's room, tinkering with their Carnival costumes, and plunged at once into the fray.
'How could you be so horribly rude to Mrs. Forrest?' she demanded of Anne-Marie.
'Well, look how she behaved to you!' was Anne- Marie's swift response, her hazel eyes glinting. 'Ignoring your invitation to her to stay for dinner.'
'She's beastly to you always,' Sally put in, biting off a piece of thread. 'And to us, come to that. We didn't mind Dr. O'Dane saying that about the garage being phoney. He couldn't be spiteful if he tried. But Laura never loses an opportunity of getting at us.'
'That's all very well. To be insolent to a woman of her age, even if she didn't happen to be your guest, would be outrageous. You'll have to apologise, Anne- Marie, even if you do it over the telephone.'
'All right. If she apologises to you for behaving as she did.'
Anne-Marie held her head high. Her cheeks were crimson with indignation.
'If you go on this way, there'll only be one end to it.' Bryony flopped down on to the end of the bed. 'I shall be sent back to England as a failure, and you and Sally will find yourselves boarders at St. Monica's. It's not only this question of rudeness to Mrs. Forrest, and refusal to apologise. It's the matter of the scooters. Your brother has told you definitely he doesn't want you going around with these boys, and you seem to be taking no notice whatev
er.'
Tears came now into Anne-Marie's eyes.
'It's awful to be young—at least when you have to be bossed around by a brother as prejudiced as Perry.'
'It's rotten for him not to be able to trust you,' Bryony countered. And then she said appealingly: 'Why not make a fresh start? He wants to talk to me this evening, and if I can tell him that you'll do this——-'
Anne-Marie hesitated for a moment, then she came and flung her arms round Bryony's neck.
'You mustn't go back to England,' she said. 'You must stay with us. We've missed Yvonne terribly, ever since she married and went to London. But you're the next best thing—truly!'
Bryony looked across at Sally.
'What about you, love?'
Sally gave a huge, sudden grin.
'I'd like to put some painless narcotic poison in Laura Forrest's soup,' she said, 'the very next time she comes to dinner!'
CHAPTER FIVE
Having agreed to apologise to Laura Forrest, Anne- Marie did so at once, ringing her up on the telephone. Her manner was hardly gracious, but it seemed that Laura accepted the gesture.
'She says that Perry is staying to dinner with her after all,' she told Bryony. 'A blessing, too. Aunt Isabel has already given me a pat on the back and told me I'm a good girl. We shall have a peaceful meal, and put on some new discs afterwards. No one's going to know that the boys gave them to us,' she added mischievously.
'Well, no more presents from them,' Bryony said firmly. 'The new leaf is well and truly turned over, or else——-!'
The evening passed in a tranquil atmosphere, with the girls and their great-aunt going early to bed. And Bryony was alone in the sitting-room, tidying up, when Peregrine came in.
'Oh, there you are, Bryony,' he said at once.''I was hoping to find you alone. I want to thank you for getting Anne-Marie to apologise to Laura. She's a darling in some ways—easier than Sal, I sometimes think—but she can be as obstinate as a mule. Now come and sit down and talk to me. I've several things I want to say.'
Juliet Armstrong - Isle of the Hummingbird Page 6