The Tender Winds of Spring

by Joyce Dingwell

  ‘You didn’t even see each other,’ she consoled.

  ‘Oh, yes, Amanda and Sukey are at the same school,’ Dicky told Jo, ‘and I’m next door. We’re a brother and sister school. Very soon it’s going to be one school. All mixed up.’ He said it with disapproval.

  ‘He means co-ed,’ said Amanda. She added: ‘Yuk.’ Sukey echoed: ‘Yuk.’

  The conversation was getting away from the channel in which Jo wanted to keep it.

  ‘Did you take dancing and music?’ she asked the girls, feeling false as she said it, for she already knew they had not.

  ‘No.’

  ‘No extras?’

  ‘No, we didn’t want to.’

  ‘Didn’t want to,’ Sukey repeated.

  Jo nodded sympathetically. ‘I understand, they cost a lot, and your father mightn’t have been able to afford a lot.’ No comment.

  ‘Not all fathers are bankers, shipowners, millionaires ... or miners.’

  Not a face was raised, not an eye flicked.

  Jo stuck it out for an hour, then she gave in. She went back into the house just as the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver. It was Gavin.

  ‘My poor dear,’ said Gavin, ‘how has it been today?’

  ‘The same, really. I mean, Gavin, you can’t expect—’

  ‘No, I can’t, but when one cares for somebody as I care for you, one gets impatient.’

  Resisting an impulse to remind him: ‘You weren’t before,’ Jo said instead: ‘You mustn’t, Gavin.’

  ‘Tell that to my impatient heart, my dear. Meanwhile, can you give me an idea at least?’

  ‘Idea?’

  ‘Which child, Josie. After all, if I’m to be a parent—’

  ‘Oh, yes, the child.’

  ‘Any eliminations yet?’

  ‘All the time—that’s the trouble, Gavin.’

  ‘No trouble at all,’ Gavin said eagerly, ‘I don’t mind forgetting the whole thing, my dear.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant the trouble if we took the three.’

  ‘Josie!’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know, Gavin, I know you’ve been very gracious about it all, I know no man wants to start off so extremely married.’

  ‘Exactly, dear. You put the position perfectly.’

  ‘Actually it was Abel Passant who said that. He was very understanding for you.’

  ‘Really?’ said Gavin. ‘Well, dear, keep thinking and I’ll abide by your decision.’

  ‘Yes, Gavin. Thank you, Gavin. Goodbye, Gavin.’ Jo put down the phone.

  Later in the afternoon Abel came down.

  Jo reported her failure to find out anything, and he nodded.

  ‘I rather suspected that. I’ve been in touch with the schools again, had a word with several of the teachers. Unfortunately both schools are large establishments, not much of the individual, personal touch. But from what I can gather the kids were not the favourite pupils. Rather sullen little brutes there, I concluded, as they are here. Well, that was the message I got.’

  ‘They’re not sullen little brutes.’

  ‘Prove it,’ he shrugged. ‘But I did get one suggestion from a teacher of Sukey’s—younger than the others from the sound of her, so possibly still with a few ideals left. A lifetime of kids must shatter your dreams. This one suggested speaking about their friends.’ Abel paused. ‘If they had any. She said that rarely does a child not communicate with another child. And it could be true. Just now our trio are living in a world of long legs and big words.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I want you to try that angle. You could ask, for instance, what did they give their best friends ... very important people to the young, I can remember ... for farewell presents. If they say nothing, which they will, for one thing that I have established definitely is a lack of money, you can suggest they send them some now. Well, it’s a try.’ As he said it, Abel threw down a wad of notes.

  ‘That’s too much,’ gasped Jo.

  ‘Not divided by three kids, then divided again by heaven knows how many friends.’

  ‘Well, if you say so, but I still don’t know.’

  ‘Then just give it a go,’ he urged. He waited a moment. ‘Another thing. The Child Welfare.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘An officer is coming out.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ she asked.

  ‘Because the children are still here and not in there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Where?’ he echoed. ‘Wherever it is they put them until they decide their fate.’

  ‘It sounds awful!’ protested Jo.

  ‘The officer coming out or the fate deciding?’

  ‘Both, the way I’m feeling now. I mean—well—those three—Oh, I just don’t know, Abel, they could even turn round and say I—I—’

  ‘Walloped them? My dear Josephine, these officers are trained. They can cop a lie on a child’s lips before it even comes out. Don’t fret, it will be all right.’ Another pause. ‘Nothing more to report from your side?’

  ‘Only Gavin. He rang up to know—’ Jo bit her lip.

  ‘Know which one? He’s in a bit of a hurry, isn’t he? He gave you a week before.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s different now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because ... well, because one does change one’s mind, you know, one does think differently. That’s life.’

  ‘Perhaps I have hurried things along,’ Abel suggested, ‘looking at you with lustful eyes.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be absurd!’

  ‘All the same, you say he’s getting anxious. Then you certainly must make up your mind, mustn’t you, Miss Millett?’

  ‘I’ve made it up. I’ve always had it made up.’

  ‘Then which one?’

  ‘I meant that I’ve always had it made up that it was Gavin for me.’

  ‘I thought,’ he said drily, ‘it was the kids we were talking about. Or are they just in passing?’

  ‘Mr. Passant, you’ve been a great help, and I do appreciate it, in fact I don’t know what I would have done without you, but—’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But this other isn’t your concern, is it? I mean, I do appreciate the time and care you’ve taken, but there comes a moment—’

  ‘I understand,’ he nodded. He went to the door. ‘Goodbye.’

  Jo was after him in a flash. ‘Mr. Passant ... Abel ... I didn’t mean you to take it quite like that.’

  ‘Quite like what?’

  ‘Like walking out. I mean—well, I mean please don’t.’

  ‘You really mean touch the edges but don’t come any further.’

  ‘No,’ said Jo, ‘I really meant—’

  He looked at her for a long searching moment. ‘You could have fooled me,’ he shrugged, ‘but I’ll still string along if you say so.’

  ‘I say so.’

  ‘Then the welfare lady will be here tomorrow morning, so see the kids’ noses are wiped.’

  ‘They always are,’ she retorted indignantly.

  ‘Do it extra well. A lot depends on her report.’

  ‘You mean I’ll be given an extra day guardianship?’ Jo’s voice was strained.

  ‘For two of them,’ he reminded her cruelly. ‘The lucky, or unlucky, one, of course, won’t be affected. Really, Miss Millet, you’re making a fuss about nothing. It just comes down to one out of three. That’s no big guns.’

  ‘It is for me. I simply can’t say in a week.’

  ‘Then ask him for longer.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t work. Gavin is a changed man, he’s really—’

  ‘Really keen? Well, un-keen him.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Instead of being suddenly desirable, become a case for a second thought. No man wants to hurry a marriage if he has to have second thoughts.’

  ‘But you’re forgetting something,’ Jo said distinctly. ‘I love Gavin.’

  ‘Then that bright idea is off, isn’t it!’ he smiled blandly. He turne
d and left without another word.

  At dinner that night Jo broke the news about the welfare officer.

  ‘A lady will be calling to see if you’re all right. If you’re not, she’ll take you back with her.’

  No one commented.

  ‘But I think you’d sooner stay, wouldn’t you? Well, for a time, anyway. I mean’ ... desperately ... ‘at least you know us here. I thought it would be nice if we were bright and happy tomorrow, then the lady would know.’ Jo’s last words on the subject were a discouraged: ‘Wouldn’t she?’

  She changed to the second topic. Friends. From this she expected nothing.

  But for the first time there was interest.

  No, they hadn’t said goodbye. Yes, they would like to send some farewell presents. Almost intoxicated at her first success, even though it was really Abel’s success, Jo showed them the money.

  Amanda and Dicky at once took out paper and pencils and began dividing up. It was agreed that they took half the money each, then donated a sum each to Sukey, who was too young to have many friends.

  For the first time Sukey did not agree. ‘I do have some, too,’ she argued.

  But Amanda and Dicky paid no notice in their absorption over their arithmetic. It appeared that Amanda’s amount had to spread over twenty-one friends, Dicky’s over nineteen, though he was desperately trying to think of two more to get level with Amanda.

  Each recipient, it also appeared, must get a present of the exact same value.

  ‘That makes,’ said Amanda, licking her pencil, ‘sixty cents.’

  ‘Mine’s more,’ said Dicky.

  ‘Yes, but you’ve not so many friends.’

  Thrilled with the nearest thing to animation she had seen in them yet, Jo said craftily: ‘We’ll all get dressed nicely tomorrow and as soon as the welfare lady goes, we’ll drive into town.’

  They nodded. They actually nodded.

  Mrs. Featherstone was driven out next morning in an official car, and one look at her made Jo glad. She was plump, motherly, unruffled, and she had the right answers. She did not pay over-attention to Amanda and Dicky, and when Sukey, eyes set on Mrs. Featherstone’s blue rinse, asked: ‘Why is your hair like that?’ answered at once:

  ‘It’s the reflection of the sky, my dear.’

  Mrs. Featherstone assured Jo that nothing would be done at present, then was driven away again. Five minutes later, keeping to her promise, Jo took the children to town.

  Then it began.

  Twenty-one, nineteen and ten (Amanda, Dicky and Sukey) added up to fifty gifts to be bought. In half an afternoon. With each gift had to go a card, and a different card, and no two presents, of course, must be the same.

  Different wrapping paper ... (would Dicky’s friend John really take to Welcome to the new baby that Dicky had chosen without reading first, but then the parcel contained trick matches and a false moustache, so all might be well.)

  Amanda meanwhile had bought false eyelashes, a startling lipstick that no school would permit, and ‘parfum’. She asked each time for Parfum. ‘It smells better than scent,’ she informed Jo. That was the lovely thing about it all—the children were actually confiding. Not Sukey. Not quite yet. Sukey’s presents, too, baffled Jo. She had bought her best friend Karen coloured toilet paper and a plug of tobacco.

  The shops were beginning to put up their grilles when the money ran out and they agreed to come home. Jo sighed with relief, a relief that lasted for exactly one block.

  ‘Stop the car!’ squealed Amanda in agony.

  ‘Darling, are you sick?’ asked Jo.

  Amanda had the book and pencil on her lap, and she looked up in pain at Jo.

  ‘I’ve spent two cents more on Catherine. It has to be the same as Janet, Lynda, Miranda—’

  ‘But, darling—’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t, I couldn’t! It would be awful. I’d die of shame. Could you go back?’

  ‘They’ll be closed.’

  ‘They mightn’t be, they were only putting out the cages.’

  ‘Grilles. But—’

  ‘Please. Please!’

  This was a moment of breakthrough, and all at once Jo recognised it.

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘we’ll go back.’

  Bringing the others up to what Amanda had spent on Catherine (through a loan from Jo) sometimes made them more than Catherine. It all had to be cleverly adjusted, and it was all very involved, but at last it was done, and by that time the shop attendant had a strange look.

  Jo had a strange look, too, but she felt absurdly happy, almost lightheaded. They came out of the store and the thankful proprietor turned a key.

  Amanda had asked Jo to try on a sample lipstick she intended to give to Lynda now that the agreed amounts had been changed. Only it hadn’t stopped at one sample lipstick, it had grown to many. Jo had forgotten how many, but she was very conscious of the rainbow she wore as Gavin came out of his office at the same time as she and the children emerged from the store. She was aware of her ruffled hair ... she had been trying on a fishing cap for Dicky. She was alerted to many things ... particularly one of the things. What had Abel said? A case for a second thought. She knew she must look very much like a case for a second thought to Gavin on the opposite side of the street.

  ‘There’s that man who came to see you,’ said Dicky.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jo weakly. She waved.

  Gavin bowed back, then looked indicatively ... and thankfully? ... at the traffic.

  Jo nodded, and returned her group to the car.

  In the back seat she could hear them babbling, arguing, quarrelling ... and not in soft voices. Wonderful, she rejoiced, they’re talking like, normal beings. No, they’re shouting. They’re not whispering together so I can’t hear them. Gee darling, can you hear them as well? But of course you can. Oh, I’m happy, happy!

  I love Gavin, I love Gavin. In her joy Jo included Gavin, too, with every turn of the wheels back to Tender Winds. At the house the children tumbled out and actually raced up to Abel. Not Sukey, though. Not yet.

  Jo followed more thoughtfully. She was sober again now and could not have said for sure how she felt.

  Yet she must have been content, for when Abel, the children in their rooms discussing their purchases, asked keenly of her: ‘Success?’ without a moment of hesitation Jo answered:

  ‘Oh, yes, Abel, success.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  But still there was no magic. All the next morning the children wrote their messages on their gifts, in Sukey’s case a simple: ‘From Suk’, for her four little years evidently made her incapable of getting beyond that, then they encased the parcels in brown wrappings and gave them to Jo to be mailed.

  Then that was that. The effervescence went flat.

  Not such a handsome return, Jo thought, for the substantial sum that Abel Passant had passed over.

  She said this to Abel when he came in from the plantations, but he only smiled and shrugged, ‘The recipients at least will gain.’

  ‘That wasn’t the idea.’

  ‘Look, Josephine, you advanced. If only for a short while you went forward, not back. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘At the price of all that money!’

  ‘I’m not complaining, am I?’

  ‘No.’ She looked at him estimatingly. ‘You must have a lot of money.’

  ‘Enough. Though you could say I could do with more.’

  ‘No one needs more if they have enough.’

  ‘For extra mouths.’ A pause. ‘To buy someone off.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘What I said.’

  ‘You have no extra mouths,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Not yet.’

  She decided to pass that one over. ‘And the buying off?’ she asked.

  ‘Want to hear the bitter story?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why did you ask?’

  She did not reply to that and a few minutes went by in silence. Abel Passa
nt broke the silence.

  ‘How were the kids today?’

  ‘This morning diverted. This afternoon back to their old form.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to think of something else, won’t you?’ ‘I can’t, I’ve tried everything, and anyway, it can’t go on.’

  ‘What can’t?’

  ‘Always thinking of something.’

  ‘I suppose not. I suppose also you may think it pointless to work on three when only one is your goal?’

  ‘It’s not my goal, it’s all I can hope for.’

  ‘Honestly, Josephine?’

  ‘I told you what Gavin said.’

  ‘But honestly, what do you hope for? Be really truthful now. Would you really like to take three children with you to your marriage with Gavin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well—if you say so.’ He shrugged and smiled thinly.

  ‘I am saying so.’

  ‘Out of conscience?’

  ‘Mr. Passant—’ she began.

  ‘Look, Josephine, don’t try to include any love for them on me. I’m too hard-bitten for that.’

  ‘They—they’re hard to love,’ Jo blurted. The children’s return to their clam-like state had disappointed and saddened her.

  ‘Agreed,’ he said. ‘So we’re honest at last. There is no love.’

  A long moment went past, Jo not trusting herself to speak. Again Abel broke the silence.

  ‘Heard from fiancé Gavin?’ he enquired.

  ‘No. But I saw him in town when I was with the children.’

  ‘That must have been a difficult moment for him, an anxious period of Which? Which? Which?’

  ‘Actually he didn’t look at the three,’ she admitted.

  ‘Of course not, not when you were there.’

  ‘I was flustered, dishevelled, untidy,’ said Jo miserably. ‘Amanda had discovered she’d spent two cents more on Catherine, so we had to go back to the store and do it all again. I had five different coloured lipsticks on me.’

  ‘Go on,’ encouraged Abel, obviously delighted.

  ‘We couldn’t meet, of course, he was on the opposite side of the street and it was peak traffic.’

  ‘So Gavin signalled you on and rang you later?’

  ‘He signalled me on.’

  ‘No ring?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Excellent, Josephine. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? What you needed? A delay. A pause. Instead of having to give him your answer in the time he set he’s now going to propose a deferment.’