Mrs Roebuck said nothing; instead she felt her pulse and put her rough-skinned hand against Cassie’s flushed cheeks. Then turning to Grandmother who had followed her in, she laughed.
‘There’s nothing the matter with this child, Gloria,’ she announced, looking over to Cassie’s chair and to the clothes folded neatly on it. ‘Except, no doubt, the clothes you put her in.’
Grandmother’s mouth tightened and she glared at Cassie.
‘Come on, Cassie,’ Mrs Roebuck continued. ‘You jump out of that bed right now and we’ll go find you something pretty and cool to wear. How about this blue dress here?’
‘That’s far too skimpy,’ Grandmother said.
‘Nonsense, Gloria,’ sighed Mrs Roebuck. ‘The child will be fine in this. Why, the temperature’s well in the eighties now.’
Grandmother watched helplessly as Mrs Roebuck quickly dressed Cassie in her pale blue dress, and then turning her round she kissed her firmly on the cheek.
‘There, child, cool as a cucumber again, aren’t you?’
Cassie nodded, lost for words.
‘Where’s your overnight bag? Why there it is. Good. Now say goodbye to your grandmother and we’ll be off.’
‘Goodbye, Grandmother,’ said Cassie dutifully. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Her grandmother made no reply. She just looked at Cassie, her small green eyes staring at her, expressionless.
Cassie would never forget the feeling of freedom that day as she walked hand in hand with Mrs Roebuck down the stairs of Grandmother’s house and out of the door, through the front garden, past the petunias standing planted in military rows, across the road and along the street to where Mrs Roebuck’s house stood smiling a welcome, cats circulating round the steps, the smell of home-baked bread wafting gently out into the air and two small girls her own age running around the back yard without any clothes on playing with a hose.
Mrs Roebuck bent down and smiled at Cassie looking through the main hall and out towards this amazing sight. Cassie was never allowed to take all her clothes off, not even if she was undressing to take a shower. She had to remove each article discreetly, and only once Grandmother had left the room was she allowed to step into the shower without any clothes at all upon her person. It was a strict rule. Grandmother did not like bodies and said so frequently. She did not like Cassie’s body in particular. She told her that too, just in case, Cassie felt, that Cassie might be tempted to show Grandmother her whole body and cause her a great upset.
‘Do you want to take your clothes off like Gina and Maria?’ Mrs Roebuck asked. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want. But it is awful hot right now.’
‘Yes please,’ Cassie replied. ‘Except, can I keep my panties on?’
‘Course you can, child.’ Mrs Roebuck laughed. ‘You can keep your panties on, and anything else you want. Course you can.’
Cassie took all her clothes off, except her panties, then she walked into the yard. She smiled shyly at Gina and Maria who both looked at each other, then turned the hose on her. Cassie gasped and put her hands out in front of her; but even as she started to laugh with delight it seemed to her that Grandmother’s eyes were on her, and any minute now she would feel her hand on her shoulder, or on her ear, pulling her back to the house and up to Grandmother’s bedroom for a beating. But the spray of deliciously cold water didn’t stop, and there was no tug at her ear. And Cassie suddenly realised that there wasn’t going to be any punishment. Opening her arms and with her eyes still tightly shut, she let the water flow past her, and over her – it was wonderful.
‘You can join our club if you like,’ said Maria later. ‘She can, can’t she, Gina?’
Maria looked across at her elder sister for approval. Gina, who was lying on the grass, opened her large languid brown eyes a little wider and, looking at Cassie, nodded slowly.
‘Sure,’ she said, ‘why not?’
Maria and Cassie gazed at her adoringly. Gina was so beautiful. Maria turned back to Cassie.
‘It’s called the Cookie Club,’ she informed Cassie, lowering her voice. ‘We go up that tree and eat cookies.’
They all turned towards the tree in question. It dominated the back yard. Cassie couldn’t admit that she had never climbed a tree before. It looked a long way up from the ground to the nearest branch, such a long way that she couldn’t help hoping that Gina and Maria might reverse their decision to make her a member of the Cookie Club.
‘Let’s all go up there now and eat cookies,’ said Maria enthusiastically.
Again both the younger girls turned towards Gina and waited for a decision. To Cassie’s relief Gina merely lay back, stretching out her lithe brown body in front of them.
‘I don’t feel like a cookie just now,’ Gina announced.
Cassie gazed at her in admiration. Gina had long black glossy hair, which looked lovely against the green of the grass, thick black eyelashes and a tip-tilted nose. Cassie knew that Gina must be what her grandmother called a ‘beauty’.
There was a long silence as Maria too lay back against the grass, and Cassie, anxious to conform, followed her example. She pretended to shut her eyes but in reality kept them half open, watching to see if either of the other two made some quick movement that she might miss. Sure enough Gina sat up suddenly. Maria and Cassie immediately did the same.
‘Let’s play weddings,’ Gina said.
‘Yes, let’s,’ Maria agreed. ‘Who’ll be the bride?’
Maria and Cassie both looked at Gina. They both knew that there could only be one ‘bride’.
‘I’ll be the groom, and then I can wear those old horse-riding boots Grandma has in the closet,’ said Maria with satisfaction.
Both girls got to their feet, and Cassie scrambled to hers, her heart beating uncomfortably. There was no mention of her role at the wedding. Wildly her mind raced ahead to the actual ceremony. Perhaps she could be the priest? They would surely need a priest? She followed them into the house and up to the attic. Instinct told her that if she mentioned herself in anyway it would only invite ridicule. If she kept quiet and said nothing Gina might turn round and suggest something that she could be.
Mrs Roebuck kept a great chest of old clothes for her grandchildren to dress up in on rainy days. Gina opened it slowly and carefully, and as the smell of old lavender filled the air, Cassie watched Gina carefully removing old shawls and evening dresses, patchwork spreads and lace veils, and then, at last, Mrs Roebuck’s wedding dress. The tissue paper fell from around it, and both girls looked at Gina with their mouths open in unbridled admiration as she held it against her and then walked to the mirror to gaze at her beautiful image. They all knew that this was how Gina would look one day on her wedding day.
‘You’re so beautiful, Gina,’ sighed Maria, as Cassie nodded silently. ‘Shall we help you get dressed?’
‘Yes, you may dress me,’ Gina replied, turning slowly from the mirror. ‘And then we’ll find some bridegroom’s clothes.’
Cassie held the wedding dress and helped Maria to do up all the tiny covered buttons at the back, then she trotted after Maria as they tried to find her some boy’s clothes from the trunk. They eventually unearthed a pair of old-fashioned short trousers, then an old silk shirt with lace at the wrists and throat, then Mr Roebuck’s old horse-riding boots, which came so far up to the top of Maria’s legs that not much of the trousers showed, but Maria didn’t mind. It was just so good to be wearing riding boots, she told Cassie, as she walked up and down in front of the mirror, rapidly developing a boyish walk.
Cassie was still in just her panties. She shivered and looked longingly towards the dressing-up clothes. She knew there was enough still left in there for her to become a bridesmaid, or a funny kind of priest, but still nothing was said. She followed the sisters down the stairs and out into the yard again, where Gina pointed to the big tree.
‘Let’s be married under this tree,’ she announced, tossing back her head of long dark hair. Maria clumped after her across
the yard, with Cassie following at a discreet distance. They both knelt beneath the Cookie Club tree.
‘You have to take my hand,’ Gina said, ‘and put a ring on it.’
‘We haven’t got a ring,’ Maria hissed, turning to Cassie.
Cassie looked round and, plucking a piece of coarse grass, she quickly made it into a circle and handed it to Maria, who put it on Gina’s finger. Kneeling behind them in her panties Cassie closed her eyes. She was a mother at the wedding, a mother in a pretend pretty hat. Gina and Maria stood up.
Mrs Roebuck came out of the house. She appeared not to notice Gina and Maria in their fine clothes, or the closing moments of the marriage ceremony. She held a yellow dress in her hand.
‘Cassie?’ she called.
Cassie went over to her.
‘Bridesmaid’s dress,’ Mrs Roebuck announced. ‘They can’t get married without a bridesmaid.’
Cassie stared up into Mrs Roebuck’s worn smiling face and swallowed hard. She knew that Mrs Roebuck was being kind – but why did people being kind make her sad?
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘No one decent gets married without a bridesmaid,’ Mrs Roebuck muttered, pulling the dress over Cassie’s head. It was made of stiff brocade with crisp organdie over the top.
‘This was Gina’s mother’s dress when she was a bridesmaid,’ she told Cassie. ‘I had it made by Madame Celestine. She made all the bridal gowns and the bridesmaids’ dresses round here in those days. She was a lovely woman. Didn’t mind what she did for anyone.’
Mrs Roebuck stood back and put her hand under Cassie’s chin.
‘You’re a very pretty child,’ she went on, ‘I always did love thick brown shining hair. Reminds me of my mother. She had thick brown shining hair. She brushed it one hundred times every night. Even when she was sick, she never forgot.’
Then she put a firm hand in the small of Cassie’s back and steered Cassie back towards the Cookie tree where the newly married Gina and Maria were waiting for her.
They looked her up and down.
‘Wedding’s over,’ Maria said.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Cassie replied, ‘I don’t really mind.’
‘I suppose you could hold my train,’ said Gina graciously. ‘I haven’t walked down the aisle yet.’
Cassie held the train. But the aisle was very short, because it was time to eat.
Lunch was a blissful affair. With their chins barely clearing the scrubbed pine table, the three of them waited for the freshly baked bread to be put on their plates. To Cassie’s astonishment Gina and Maria’s knives were allowed to dart in and out of the great slab of butter put in front of them. There was no food shortage in this house. The butter melted instantly into the springy speckled-brown surface of the warm doughy bread. Cassie felt that she could taste it before she even raised it to her lips. As they chewed silently on the hunks of bread Mrs Roebuck placed a large soup-plate in front of them, on to which she ladled her famous chicken and noodle bake – news of which had even reached Cassie’s young ears, so famous was it in the neighbourhood.
Cassie, Gina and Maria chewed in reverential silence. Mrs Roebuck didn’t seem to expect them to speak, and although she was a fervent churchgoer she had dispensed with grace before the meal – possibly because the bread had been at exactly the right temperature, possibly because the chicken and noodle bake had been at precisely the moment when it needed to be eaten. Whatever the reason, it was the first time Cassie had sat down to a meal without grace, at which she was encouraged to eat as much as she wanted.
‘Everyone got enough?’ asked Mrs Roebuck, turning from the stove every few minutes. ‘There’s plenty more.’
Her baked custard with fresh loganberries tasted as if it had been made in heaven, Cassie thought. Every spoonful melted in her mouth, and she had hardly begun before she found herself staring at an empty blue and white pattern on her plate.
‘There’s plenty more,’ said Mrs Roebuck. ‘You just pass me up those plates.’
The plates were piled up once again with fresh loganberries, their sugar-coated backs white against the creamy custard. Cassie looked at Mrs Roebuck with adoration. She must like children; and she must know what children liked, too.
‘Thank you,’ Cassie said. ‘That was lovely.’
‘Yes, but have you had enough, girls?’ Mrs Roebuck said, smiling down at her.
The three girls looked at each other and then at Mrs Roebuck. They all nodded, then giggled and patted their small round stomachs.
‘Rest time,’ announced Mrs Roebuck as she undid the back of Gina’s dress and lifted it carefully over her head.
‘Off with those boots, Maria Rossetti,’ she ordered. ‘You’re all going to have a rest in the hammocks while I do the dishes.’
At home Cassie helped with the dishes. Standing beside Delta the maid, cloth in hand, she would wait to polish each fork or each spoon until they shone. She was never allowed to touch the plates – Delta did those. But anything which didn’t break was hers to dry. She wanted to do the knives and forks for Mrs Roebuck, but Mrs Roebuck didn’t seem interested in anything except bedding them all down in hammocks under the Cookie tree.
‘Back home, after our midday meal,’ she told Cassie, ‘our mother never let us move until we’d lain down in our hammocks.’
She piled comfortable old fringed cushions into the hammocks, and then helped the girls climb up into them. Well fed and already sleepy they did this with difficulty, laughing and swaying, and clutching on to each other, Mrs Roebuck and the sides of the hammocks. Gina stretched out on her own, a hammock to herself. Maria and Cassie lay looking up at the leaves of the trees with each other’s feet beside their heads. Cassie half-closed her eyes. The patterns of the leaves became blurred. She could hear the distant sounds of the small town, but they were far away. She imagined that she was a bird, and Maria was her friend and they were in a nest together. She imagined what life might be like if it was always like this day, and then she fell into the first happy sleep of her childhood.
‘I just thought I’d call by and see if Cassie’s fever is still in check.’
Cassie shrank nearer Gina and Maria. She could hear Grandmother’s sharp voice from the hall. Cassie prayed that Grandmother would not come through and see that they were listening to the wireless. That would be enough for her to insist that Cassie be taken home.
‘Cassie never had a fever, Gloria,’ she heard Mrs Roebuck reply. ‘I told you Cassie simply had on too many clothes.’
‘Did she function at two as she should?’ her grandmother demanded.
‘I have no idea, Gloria,’ Mrs Roebuck said. ‘But to my way of thinking if you don’t stop fussing the way you do, that child will grow up old before her time.’
‘You have no idea what a burden she is to me, Mirabelle Ann,’ her grandmother continued. ‘You can have no idea of the burden of bringing up a child at my age on my own.’
‘No, I have no idea, Gloria,’ Mrs Roebuck agreed. ‘But I have every idea that if you don’t go away and leave that poor child here to enjoy herself with someone else of her own age you’ll be making a rope to hang yourself. Too much attention is as bad as too little, Gloria. It makes a child feel unwanted. So now go back to your bridge and enjoy yourself in peace, and let me enjoy your grandchild in my peace.’
Cassie heard the front door shut, and she looked wildly round the room. The wireless was still on. The door was still firmly shut. Gina and Maria were laughing at the programme. There were no shadows; no one was coming in with the frown of an avenging angel. She felt like running up and down the room and shouting. Instead she fled to the bathroom.
To go to sleep in the same room as other children your own age, and to sit up all freshly washed in your nightclothes listening to Mrs Roebuck reading you a story, was yet another taste of heaven. Cassie sighed with happiness as she settled down into her bed and vowed that she would always remember this day as long as she lived. And when she was grown up
she would buy Mrs Roebuck a diamond brooch.
Mrs Roebuck leant down and kissed Cassie. She kissed her as if she had always kissed her, and as if Cassie had always been used to being kissed. Cassie closed her eyes as she did so, and pretended that Mrs Roebuck was her grandmother, and that Cassie had always lived with her.
The light was turned off, but a night light was left burning. Cassie stared towards it from her bed. Deer played, and birds flew across its pink shade. Gina and Maria were already half asleep, but Cassie watched the light, her eyes unmoving. Normally she went to sleep in the dark, her eyes tightly closed against the terrible things that might happen if Grandmother found her awake. Tonight they were open, staring at the plastic lamp.
Grandmother called for her while they were still breakfasting. Cassie must come at once, Mrs Roebuck was told. Mrs Roebuck was adamant in her refusal: Cassie would not be going anywhere until such time as she had finished her waffles and syrup.
Grandmother pushed past her.
‘She’ll come this minute,’ Cassie heard her say. ‘She’s late for her visit to the dentist.’
Grandmother in Mrs Roebuck’s kitchen was the wicked witch from the west. She looked strange and dark against all the brightly patterned china on the dresser, and the flowers arranged in the middle of the white cloth, and Gina and Maria’s red hair ribbons. By contrast Grandmother was a pool of darkness.
‘Finish that up,’ she said sharply to Cassie.
Gina and Maria stared up at Grandmother, and then looked over to Cassie. Gina’s large, languid brown eyes concentrated themselves on Cassie’s equally large blue-green ones. For the first time a look of real friendship passed between them.
‘Have another waffle,’ was all Gina said, but they both knew what she meant.
‘No thank you,’ said Cassie, hastily cramming the last of the syrupy confection in front of her into her mouth.
She smiled at Gina as she quickly said her grace, and got down. It was nice of her to encourage rebellion.
‘Grandma,’ Gina called. ‘Cassie’s not being allowed another waffle. I don’t think that’s fair.’
To Hear a Nightingale Page 3