“I don’t know how you can bear that thing,” exclaimed Rosalie looking at it in disgust.
“I like my lamp,” I told her. “There’s nothing the matter with it except that it needs filling.”
“Oh well, I suppose I’d better go to bed,” said Rosalie. “I shan’t sleep a wink — I’m too excited — but I suppose I had better go and try.”
*
Mother was pleased when she heard that Rosalie had asked a friend to tea, for she was of a hospitable nature and there was nothing she liked better than entertaining guests. She liked preparing for them too; and when I went into the kitchen on Saturday morning she was beating up eggs for a chocolate cake and looking as happy as a queen. I could not help wondering what some of her London friends would have thought if they could have seen her in her big blue overall, her hair tousled and her face red with her exertions.
“Oh, Jane!” she exclaimed. “Rosalie was rather mysterious about her friend. Is it somebody very special?”
I did not know what to say so I said nothing at all.
“Oh, I see,” said Mother smiling. “Well, it’s all right; you haven’t told me anything; but you’d better make tracks before I ask any more uncomfortable questions.”
After lunch Helen went out for a walk (she had not been told that a guest was expected); Mother and Rosalie and I were busy laying tea in the dining-room when the guest arrived.
I had known before of course, but all the same it gave me a shock of surprise when he walked in. He had looked tall and large at the club, but he looked even larger at Timble Cottage, and his whole personality seemed more vital. There was a glow of health and good spirits and friendliness radiating from him … Rosalie had said he was ‘thrilling’ and the word described him well.
Rosalie should have introduced him, but she was shy and embarrassed and mumbled inaudibly; it did not matter, of course, for Mother was equal to the occasion and after her initial surprise at the size of her guest she recovered her poise and greeted him cordially. I had remained in the background, but when Mother said, “And this is Jane!” I came forward.
“Hallo!” he exclaimed. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“You’ve met before!” exclaimed Rosalie in astonishment.
“We crawled about together picking up treasures — combs and brass knobs and safety-pins” declared Ronnie smiling.
“What do you mean?” asked Rosalie.
I could see she did not appreciate the joke and I was not surprised. I said hastily, “It was at the club — the day I lunched with Cousin Margaret. Miss Mackintosh upset her bag on the floor and I helped to pick the things up.”
“Why didn’t you say you had met?” asked Rosalie.
“I didn’t know,” I told her. “I had no idea he was Kenneth’s brother.”
“We weren’t properly introduced,” said Ronnie, chuckling. “We were thrown together by force of circumstances as you might say! Then, after lunch, our relations abandoned us and we had a little chat until Jane had to hurry away to meet somebody important.”
They were all gazing at me — Mother and Rosalie with expressions of amazement — but I did not mind. As a matter of fact I had imagined a conversation just like this so the words were ready, on my lips. “Oh yes, Mr. Gow is terribly important,” I said. “He’s our gardener. We went up to Edinburgh together in the bus and I promised to meet him at ten minutes to three. If I hadn’t been there on time he would have thought I had got lost or been run over. He would have been quite frantic!”
Mother said, “Of course he would have been frantic, poor little man. He had promised me he would ‘see after Miss Jane’.”
I glanced at Mother gratefully. You could depend upon Mother to say the right thing.
They were all smiling now.
“Come and sit down,” suggested Mother. “Come and tell us what you’ve been doing …”
After that it was easy. Ronnie was quite pleased to talk about what he had been doing at Ayr and what he was going to do in Edinburgh, and — with a little encouragement — he proceeded to tell us about the post he had got as assistant to a professor of bacteriology at Eastringford.
“Where is Eastringford?” Mother wanted to know.
“It’s quite a small place not far from Oxford. I’m going there at the end of July. I was to have gone in January — it was all arranged — but they’re building a new laboratory and it isn’t ready yet. They’ve been held up, you see. Of course it’s a wonderful opportunity for me to work under a man like Professor Black — and to work in this new lab with all the latest gadgets. We’re going to carry out some experiments and research.”
“What sort of experiments?” Mother inquired.
“Tropical diseases,” he replied. “I’ll tell you about it if it won’t bore you. Most people are bored to death when I start talking about it.”
We were not bored … and although it was all rather technical and none of us knew anything about bacteriology, it was easy enough to listen.
“That’s really my line,” explained Ronnie. “I’ve always been madly keen about bacteriology so I was terribly lucky to be selected — and I don’t mind waiting for it. I mean it’s quite easy to fill in the time with temporary work. The post isn’t very well paid but it will be a wonderful experience and it’s bound to lead to something better.”
“The great thing is to start on the right track,” suggested Mother.
“Yes, and this is the right track — for me. I’m looking forward to it tremendously.”
Rosalie said very little — she was leaving it to Mother to carry on the conversation — so presently Mother suggested that there would be time for a walk before tea.
“It’s such a lovely afternoon,” said Mother. “Why not take Ronnie to see the spring. I’ll have tea ready when you get back.”
“Couldn’t I help to get tea ready?” asked Ronnie.
“Jane will help me,” said Mother looking at me.
“Yes, of course,” I said.
They rose at once and went off together up the hill.
“Why does nobody tell me things!” exclaimed Mother, half laughing and half in earnest. “I was expecting a girl — and in walked a gigantic young man! Nobody told me who he was, nobody mentioned his name! Am I supposed to have second sight or what?”
“I didn’t know if it was the same man —” I began.
“Oh, I gathered that — I groped through the fog — but it would have been a lot easier if somebody had had the sense to tell me.”
I was silent.
“Well, never mind,” said Mother. “I know now — and he’s a delightful young man. So friendly and kind and so good to look at. Did you have a nice chat with him that day at the club?”
“No, I was an idiot,” I said gruffly.
By this time we were in the kitchen. I filled the kettle and put it on to boil and Mother fetched her cake from the larder.
“What a good thing I made it!” said mother. “It looks nice doesn’t it? I think I shall put one of these paper d’oylies under it. He won’t notice it, of course (it will be completely wasted on him), but I like to see a cake sitting on a nice paper d’oylie.”
*
We were having tea in the dining-room, as we often did when we had visitors, and it was all ready when Ronnie and Rosalie returned from their walk.
“It’s no good waiting for Helen,” said Mother.
“Helen has no idea of time,” agreed Rosalie.
“Did you have a nice walk?” I asked.
“It was grand,” replied Ronnie.
“We saw a heron,” said Rosalie. “It flew over the hill quite near us, flapping its wings.” She smiled across the table at Ronnie and added, “Ronnie knows all about birds.”
“Not ‘all about’ them,” declared Ronnie laughing. “I like birds, it’s fun watching them, but it would take a lifetime of study to learn all about them.”
“Well, you know a lot,” said Rosalie. “I wouldn’t have known
it was a heron if you hadn’t told me.”
“Herons are easy,” said Ronnie. “Their flight is quite different from other birds. I tell you what, Rosalie, if you’re interested I could send you a book about birds. Ken gave it to me for Christmas.”
“Of course I’m interested,” declared Rosalie. “The heron was beautiful. I wish we had been able to find its nest.” She turned to Mother and added, “Ronnie thinks it may have a nest near the spring but we didn’t have much time to look.”
“Perhaps another day,” suggested Mother. “Ronnie might like to come to lunch — if he isn’t too busy. It doesn’t take long to come over from Edinburgh.”
“I’d love to,” declared Ronnie. “I could bring the book and my field glasses …”
They went on talking and making plans. The plans were necessarily vague, for Ronnie had taken a temporary post in Edinburgh and did not know when he would be free to come, but he said he would let us know if he could manage it.
“You can’t work all the time!” Rosalie pointed out.
“You can — if you’re assistant to a G.P.,” replied Ronnie smiling somewhat ruefully … and he began to tell us some of his experiences in the last few months.
Ronnie was in the middle of an amusing story when the door opened and Helen came in. She came in like a breeze from the moor, with her golden curls blown by the wind, her sea-blue eyes sparkling and a wild rose bloom in her cheeks.
“Goodness, am I late?” she cried. “I went further than I meant — it was so heavenly. I ran home all the way!”
“This is Helen,” said Mother, and she added, “Ronnie Ferguson — Kenneth’s brother.”
“Hallo!” said Helen smiling at him.
They were all looking at Helen except me. I glanced at Ronnie. He had not risen — as he should have done — but was sitting glued to his chair. He was staring at her with his mouth a little open and his face reddening beneath its tan. There was a dazed look about him as if he had been hit on the head and did not know what had hit him.
“Hallo!” repeated Helen. “I saw your car outside the door so I knew we had a visitor. It’s a racing model, isn’t it?”
Ronnie did not answer, but his silence did not worry Helen. She had the easy self-confidence of a girl who has been used to admiration all her life. She sat down in the empty chair and went on talking. She helped herself to a scone.
“Rosalie and Ronnie walked up to the spring,” I said, trying to draw Rosalie into the conversation. “They saw a heron —”
“Did you really?” asked Helen. “They’re very rare, aren’t they? I saw a big bird with long legs standing on a rock in the middle of the burn. Could it have been a heron?”
By this time Ronnie was recovering and was able to reply; they began to talk about the bird Helen had seen and to discuss whether it had been a heron or some other kind of bird. Quite soon the two of them were talking and laughing as if they had known each other all their lives.
Rosalie sat with her eyes on her plate and said nothing. Her face was as white as a sheet. I looked at Mother — but even Mother seemed to have nothing to say.
For a few moments I was so angry with Ronnie that I could have shaken him — and then my rage subsided. It was not Ronnie’s fault; Ronnie was not to blame; Ronnie had no idea what was happening, and even if he had known he could not have helped matters at all. Rosalie was completely silent, she was making no effort to join in the conversation, and Helen was making every effort to put him at his ease … and of course she was enchanting (even I saw that).
I was sorry for Ronnie; I was sorry for Rosalie. In a way I was sorry for Helen too. She was not using her charm consciously, she was just being her natural self. Here was a shy young man, sitting at her mother’s table, and she was drawing him out and entertaining him. Probably she would not have bothered so much if he had not been an attractive young man — but you could hardly blame her for that.
You could not blame anybody, that was the trouble; they were all acting their parts according to their different characters. The thing that was happening before my eyes had the inevitability of a Greek tragedy.
After tea they all three went out to look at Ronnie’s car while I helped Mother to wash the dishes. When I peeped out of the window the bonnet was open and Ronnie and Helen were looking at the engine while Rosalie stood by. Helen was really interested in cars (it was not ‘put on’) and she was taking in all that Ronnie told her and asking intelligent questions.
Ronnie had said he would take Rosalie out for a little spin before he went back to Edinburgh but apparently he had forgotten or changed his mind.
Presently Helen came in for a bucket and some cloths. “We’re going to wash Ronnie’s car,” she said. “We’ll just have time before he goes back to Edinburgh. Can I borrow the shammy?”
“He promised to take Rosalie for a drive,” objected Mother.
“Oh, Rosalie doesn’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” asked Mother. “Helen listen —”
“Of course I’m sure,” she declared. “Ronnie asked her and she said she didn’t mind at all. Besides there isn’t time.” She took the chamois leather and added, “He says he’ll give me a lift to Edinburgh, it will be far nicer than that horrid old bus.”
“But Helen —”
“And it will save the fare,” she added, clinching the matter.
Mother hesitated. “Helen,” she began — but Helen was filling the bucket and did not listen.
“It’s a marvellous little car,” she declared. “He bought it second hand, quite cheap, and he’s done it up and fitted a new carburettor and now it goes like the wind. He was showing me the engine — it was frightfully interesting.”
She went out with the bucket and they proceeded to wash the car. There was a great deal of talk and laughter and ‘ragging’ over the business. Helen and Ronnie both seized the chamois leather at the same moment and this resulted in a tug of war.
“I want it!” cried Helen, laughing and pulling with all her might. “I want it for the windscreen!”
“I want it for the lamps!” declared Ronnie, pretending to pull.
“The windscreen is much more important. We want to see out of it, don’t we? Do let me have it, you horribly strong creature.”
Presently Rosalie came in and went straight upstairs to her bedroom and I honestly believe that the others never noticed she had gone.
“Mother, can’t we do something?” I said.
“No, Jane.”
“But you’re so good at — at doing things — and — and it’s desperate!”
“I know it’s desperate,” she said.
“Mother —”
“No, Jane, it wouldn’t be any use.”
*
It was six o’clock when the car was finished and they were ready to start. Mother and I went to the door to see them off.
“Where’s Rosalie?” asked Ronnie, looking round in a bewildered sort of way. “I haven’t said good-bye to Rosalie
“She had to go down to Ryddelton,” said Mother promptly.
“How odd!” exclaimed Helen. “But look, there’s the bicycle! She must have come back. We had better find her and say good-bye.”
“She walked,” I said quickly. “She hasn’t come back.”
“Oh well, perhaps we’ll see her on the road,” said Helen. “If not, be sure to give her my love.”
“Mine, too,” said Ronnie cheerfully.
They got into the car and drove off.
When they had gone we turned and looked at each other. “You had better go to her,” said Mother. “Yes, it had better be you.”
I went up to her room. She was lying face downwards on the bed crying into her pillow.
“Rosalie!” I said.
She held out her hand and I took it and sat down beside her. The hand was hot and wet and limp.
“They’ve gone,” I told her.
“I know,” she said in a hoarse voice, broken by weeping. “I heard them. I heard
every word. Oh Jane, I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it! He did like me — he did — he did! Oh Jane, he’s so sweet and good — and kind. It isn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. It’s her fault, Jane! I hate her! Oh, I know it’s wicked to hate her — but Ronnie was mine — my friend. What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do!”
“He’s still your friend —”
“No, she’s taken him. He never even said good-bye!”
“He said to give you his love —”
“Yes, I heard,” she sobbed. “He said ‘mine, too’. That’s worth a lot, isn’t it?”
I gave the limp hand a little squeeze.
“Oh Jane, I’ve never had a friend before — not like Ronnie. She’s got lots of friends — he’s just one of the crowd to her. I love Ronnie — it’s awful but I can’t help it — and he — liked me. He did really —”
“Of course he likes you —”
“Not now. He never looked at me after she came in.”
“Why did you let her?” I said. I was almost crying myself. “Oh Rosalie, why didn’t you — do something — say something —”
“I don’t know — I couldn’t — what was the use! He never even noticed I was there. He liked me — before — at Ayr. He did, really. He talked to me in the garden and we had fun together — with Deb and Sally — but now — he doesn’t like me — any more —”
“Yes, he does,” I said desperately. “It’s only temporary — it will pass — it’s only temporary.”
She did not listen. “Oh Jane!” she cried. “Oh Jane, did you see his face — when he looked at her? He never looked at me — like that!”
I had seen his face. It was no use saying that I hadn’t. “It’s temporary,” I repeated. “Honestly it is. It’s a sort of magic like the poppy dust in Midsummer Nights Dream!”
“It isn’t. You don’t really think so. You’re just — saying it.”
“You know what she’s like —”
“Oh yes, I know what she’s like!” cried Rosalie wildly. “She’ll take him and — and break his heart — and — and throw him away! Like she did to Basil — like she does to them all. Oh Jane, I can’t bear it! If she does that to Ronnie — I shall die!”
Anna and Her Daughters Page 11