A Small Country

by Siân James

  ‘You just said they can’t. Your father couldn’t. You just said so. To tell you the truth, I don’t feel too confident about you. On the other hand, I think Catrin is quite capable of looking after herself.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Why can’t she just stay home till she gets married? What good will college or Art School do her? She’ll get married eventually. You can tell by looking at her that she’s not going to turn out a blue-stocking.’

  ‘Who is there for her to marry if you keep her here?’

  ‘There’s no shortage of young men here. What’s wrong with a farmer? I’d have no objection to any go-ahead young farmer as long as he was going to inherit sixty acres or so. And there’s a teachers’ training college at Llanfryn. According to Nano, those students keep things pretty lively around here. She was talking about the maids but I can’t see that Catrin need be left out. She went to evening classes at the college last year; History and Welsh literature, I think. What’s wrong with a teacher? Mother would help them along. Then there’s Doctor Andrews. He’s very attentive.’

  ‘Isn’t he married?’ Edward felt a sting of jealousy as he thought of the doctor’s dark good looks and assured manner.

  ‘He’s a widower. No children. Good practice.’

  ‘He’s much too old for her; he must be almost forty. I don’t like him either. I know I’ve only met him once, but I don’t like him.’

  ‘Why not? He’s a very clever chap. Very well thought of.’

  ‘He’s too smooth.’

  ‘Smooth? John Andrews? I’ve always considered him a pretty rugged sort of character. Anyway, Catrin likes him.’

  ‘Let her go to Art School. Her heart’s set on it. If she was keen on Doctor Andrews she wouldn’t want to go.’

  ‘What about me? What company would I have if she was away? She’s someone to argue with, if nothing else. Someone to tease.’

  ‘But in no time at all you’ll get married, see if you don’t. There’ll be no end of girls throwing themselves at you.’

  Edward had expected a smile, but even in the fading light he could see Tom’s look harden.

  ‘You were lucky, Ned,’ he said. ‘You were free to choose. I’ll have to marry for money. I saw Charles our solicitor this morning and he’s warned me that our financial position isn’t what it was. My father’s heart wasn’t in farming. It’s lucky that mine is. All the same, I’ll have to marry money. I can only think of one suitable candidate and she’s about thirty. It’s a daunting prospect.’

  ‘What will your father do, Tom? Have you any idea?’

  ‘Not really. I’ve written to ask him to meet me at The Sheaf in Llanfryn on Saturday evening to arrange a few things; getting his stuff to him, for instance, I don’t really know what he wants. Dick Charles had heard he was trying for a job in some farm in Cardiganshire. I suppose it’ll be better if he moves away from here. Did you hear that Catrin saw his little schoolteacher in the chemist’s this morning?’

  ‘Good heavens, no! What happened?’

  ‘Nothing, really. No confrontation. Catrin saw her, that’s all she said.’

  ‘It must have been terrible for her.’

  ‘No. I tell you, Catrin doesn’t feel it like I do.’

  In bed that night, Edward was too hot, too excited to sleep. Last year he had enjoyed a month’s working holiday at Hendre Ddu and had envied Tom’s carefree home life. Catrin, he’d considered a lovely bonus, the beautiful sister thirsting for the kind of talk he excelled at; classicism and romanticism in literature and art, absolute standards of criticism, the nature of God, ideas of immortality. She had flattered his ego and stimulated his senses. He had been drawn back, though Tom’s invitation hadn’t been pressing; he had suggested a walking holiday in Scotland at the end of September, had warned him that a second holiday in Hendre Ddu would be an anti-climax.

  Yet he had come. He wondered whether Catrin, even last year, had exerted a greater influence on him than he had cared to recognize. Whether it was she, in fact, who had brought him back.

  This year, she disturbed him so much that he was forced to re-examine all his assumptions about love and marriage. He desired Catrin, ached for her, couldn’t stop thinking of making love to her. He couldn’t look at her face without imagining her strange green eyes opening wide in surprise against the passion of his kiss. The buttons on her blouse, the frill of her skirt, her small feet, even in the clogs she wore on the farmyard, excited him so much that he had to look away. Feelings he had previously only experienced at the music hall or when seeing girls he would have been ashamed to talk to, now troubled him every minute, and though his first impulse was to leave Hendre Ddu as quickly as possible and return to London, to Rose whom he loved without embarrassment, the disaster of Mr and Mrs Evans’s marriage seemed to serve as a warning that sex was not to be so easily dismissed.

  Doctor Andrews had shown no surprise at the fact that Josi Evans had a mistress and child, only that he was leaving home for them. Was marriage, then, as frail an institution as it had been in Victorian times, when the wife was worshipped and the husband’s lust satisfied in the brothel, or in an alternative establishment if he were rich enough? Wouldn’t he himself be heading in that direction if he married Rose whom he loved, yes, but who had never excited him as Catrin did? He had often thought longingly of marriage with Rose, their close domesticity, but he had never imagined undressing her, seeing her white and naked under his hands.

  Wasn’t it possible to find love and passion in one woman? Catrin, he felt sure, was as tender and warm as she was intelligent and beautiful. Tender and warm. Why should he try to deceive himself; she looked like someone who would love passionately, that’s what he meant. Dear God, he was mad for her.

  The right thing to do, surely, was to break off his engagement to Rose, however much distress it would cause them both and their families, and to choose again where his body worshipped as well as his mind. ‘With my body I thee worship. With my body I thee worship.’ He repeated the words like a spell. ‘With my body.’

  He got out of bed and went to the window. It seemed so simple. What could prevent it? He would break off his engagement to Rose – it would mean less suffering in the long view – and return a free man, and ask Mrs Evans, Mr Evans if he could be contacted, for their permission to court Catrin, to begin his life again, to be re-born.

  That’s what he would do, God help him, that’s what he would do. He opened his window wide to the smell of the orange blossom. He could hardly bear to go back to bed.

  He slept at last, and when he woke it was some time after eight; Tom would have been out for hours, he liked to mow while it was cool, while there was still dew on the grass. He got dressed and went downstairs, the excitement and ardour of the previous night still persisting.

  ‘I was just coming up to call you, Mr Turncliffe,’ Miss Rees said as he opened the morning-room door. ‘There’s a telegram come for you, look.’ She held the yellow envelope a good distance from her stout, wholesome body as though fearing contamination from it.

  ‘And I hope it’s not bad news,’ she added, as he took it from her and opened it.

  Please come home. Rose in trouble. Mother.

  ‘I have to return to London at once, Miss Rees.’

  ‘Not illness is it, I do hope?’

  ‘Not illness, no. Just some tedious family trouble.’

  ‘There’s a lot of that about this year, yes indeed. You’ll go by train I suppose, Mr Turncliffe?’

  ‘Yes, by train.’

  ‘That will be the ten-fifteen, then. I’ll cook your breakfast now and make you some sandwiches and Miss Catrin will take you to the station in the trap. What a pity Doctor Andrews isn’t coming this morning, he’d have you there in no time. Poor old Bella is past her prime now. I do hope Mr Tom will buy a big shiny motor-car soon, then we’ll all go to chapel in style, isn’t it. Will they take your bicycle on the train, say?’

  ‘They would, but I think I’ll leave it here for the time being
.’

  ‘Well, that’s good. It’s a champion old bicycle. Glyn and Daniel ride it around the clos, I hope you don’t mind. Miss Catrin said you wouldn’t mind. We’re only young once, aren’t we. And not always once in these parts. “A man at eight”, my father used to say.’

  ‘I don’t mind in the least, Miss Rees. They’re welcome to borrow it. Is Miss Catrin out getting the eggs?’

  ‘Finished, Mr Turncliffe. She’s upstairs with Mrs Evans now but she’ll be down soon, I dare say. Miss Catrin is getting a very pretty girl, have you noticed it, now?’

  ‘I have indeed. Very beautiful.’

  ‘It’s a pity for a beautiful girl to go away to college, don’t you think so, Mr Turncliffe?’

  ‘No. It’ll be just the thing for her, I think.’

  ‘But don’t you think she’ll find herself a very good husband if she’s as beautiful as you say.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time for that.’

  ‘But is a college education necessary for being a good wife and mother?’

  ‘It’s not necessary, Miss Rees, not at all. It’s like that orange sauce you make with the baked ham, it’s not necessary because your ham is the best in the world without it. But it’s good all the same.’

  Miss Rees was silent for a moment, standing with her arms folded demurely over her snowy white apron.

  ‘I’ve noticed that you think Miss Catrin is very beautiful.’

  ‘I haven’t made any secret of it.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing against secrets, mind, nothing at all. Anyway I like a man who appreciates his food, I will say that, and I don’t mind a bit of a secret now and again. You shall have some of my best fruit-cake after your ham and eggs this morning, the one I keep for Lady Harris, it will last you the day, that will. Mrs Evans will be very sorry to hear that you’re going back. She was worried that you weren’t sleeping so well last night; she heard you opening the window and walking about. But I said, Mrs Evans bach, he’s the age for sitting at the window in the moonlight and what harm will it do him, he’ll sleep the sweeter in the morning. Pity the old telegram had to come. Yes indeed.’

  At last Miss Rees left him and he stood at the window alone, pressing his forehead on to the cool glass, listening to the sadness of the ring-doves in the trees encircling the house.

  He wondered whether the telegram would affect the resolve he’d made the previous night. What sort of trouble was Rose in? Was she in prison, being denied bail? Had she been injured in a skirmish with the police? It was an effort to think of such things.

  He’d always considered himself old for his years. An only child, he had spent most of his childhood in the company of adults. At fourteen he had had meningitis and had lost two years of school, which was the reason he was still at university at twenty-three. Yet, that morning, he felt very immature; much too young to be of any help to Rose – why did they ask it of him? When all he wanted was a summer of being eighteen with Catrin.

  Tom came in for breakfast. He’d already heard the news from Miss Rees. Edward handed him the telegram and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I hope to get back before the end of summer,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll be very welcome,’ Tom said. ‘Write and let me know if there’s anything I can do. I wish you didn’t have to go.’

  They sat down to breakfast. Catrin didn’t join them; as usual taking hers upstairs with her mother.

  Immediately after breakfast, Edward went to his room to do his packing. He carried down his rucksack and the trunk which had been sent by train, left them in the hall, and went to the kitchen to find Miss Rees. He asked her whether he might go back upstairs to say goodbye to Mrs Evans; he dreaded that she should be feeling worse, so that Catrin wouldn’t be able to drive him to the station.

  ‘Mrs Evans is coming down now,’ Miss Rees said. ‘And I’ve packed you a dozen eggs and a pound of butter, look. For your mother. And you can tell her that you collected the eggs yourself.’

  She pushed the brown paper parcel into his hands; her eyes were mischievous slits in her large, old face.

  Rachel Evans and Catrin were already in the morning-room when he got back from the kitchen. Mrs Evans took his outstretched hand and motioned him to the chair at her side. ‘You’ll have to harness the pony, Catrin,’ she told her daughter. ‘Even Davy is out this morning.’

  ‘Mr Turncliffe,’ she said as Catrin left them, ‘you do my son a power of good and we all hope to see you again soon.’

  Edward thanked her and said he would be back before the end of the summer.

  ‘Have you heard that Tom isn’t returning to Oxford?’

  ‘He mentioned it. I wasn’t sure that it was definite.’

  ‘I believe it is. Do you think he’s made the right decision?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll give the matter plenty of thought and reach the right decision.’

  ‘If Tom remains at home, then I shall have no objection to Catrin going away to college. She tells me that Miss Fletcher, your fiancée, has offered to keep an eye on her if she should manage to get to that Chelsea College of Art she talks so much about.’

  Edward was taken aback so that his only response was a slight bow. After a few seconds, though, he was able to say, ‘It’s an excellent school, I believe. One of the best in the country.’

  Mrs Evans turned and looked full into his eyes. ‘Oh, Mr Turncliffe, I used to think London was a terrible place, a wicked place, but now I know that this place and every place is terrible and wicked too, so why should I try to keep her here.’

  After the sudden outburst, she sat up straight again and drew a deep breath. Then she consulted the little gold watch she wore on a chain around her neck.

  ‘I mustn’t delay you,’ she said. ‘Come again if you can put up with us.’

  Edward took her hand, pressed it, and left the room. He was surprised and also moved that she had so fully exposed the raw edges of her suffering.

  Catrin was already sitting in the trap when he went out to the yard. He put his luggage in the back and went to join her on the seat at the front. She was wearing a cream, lacy blouse and a dark skirt. She looked different; older, more self-assured. Edward wished she was in one of her usual bright print dresses.

  Miss Rees and the two maids were at the back door to wave them away.

  They drove up the narrow, tree-lined drive into the tree-lined road.

  ‘You’re a ruthless one, and no mistake,’ Edward said at last, breaking the green silence of the morning. ‘What’s all this about Rose promising to keep an eye on you?’

  ‘I have to get away, Edward, I must. I don’t do my mother any good. It’s only Tom and Nano she wants. It’ll be worse than ever now that Father’s left home; we’ll live in a sort of half-mourning all our lives. I suppose I could escape by getting married, but I don’t want to be a little black wife here in the country. You don’t know what it’s like, you’ve only been here on holiday. Nobody does anything interesting. Nobody seems to want to do anything but go to chapel and the weekly chapel meetings. The singing festival and the local eisteddfod are the social highlights of the year. The ploughing contest is what we lose sleep over; they think I’m unnatural because I don’t get excited about it. Our minister was publicly reprimanded because he took his seven-year-old son to the circus; it’s the only thing I’ve ever respected him for, it’s not that I approve of circuses, but at least it’s better than taking a child to a prayer meeting. But what is there for me to do? I’m not living, I’m existing. I’ve got to break out, I’ve got to, or I’ll go mad.’

  ‘And yet you can’t forgive your father,’ Edward said, realizing even as he said it that he had made a monumental blunder.

  And indeed Catrin stared at him unbelievingly for a second and then struck him hard on the cheek. She reined in the pony. ‘You can get out and walk,’ she said. ‘You’ll have time if you hurry. I’ll send the trunk after you.’

  Edward had been so looking forward to the drive, and was so thrown by this turn of event
s, that he, too, lost control of himself. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Only a moment she resisted, then her lips opened for his kiss and she was kissing him back. Their eyes were open and amazed as they went on kissing each other without a word. Soon his hands were opening the buttons which had so enchanted him and pulling aside skirt and petticoat.

  ‘Let’s go into the field,’ he said, his voice parched and rough.

  ‘No.’ She was crying now and re-arranging her clothes. ‘No.’

  ‘You must go,’ she said. ‘Take Bella and leave her outside the station with Mr Thomas. Say I felt faint. I do feel faint. I do. I’ll walk on later. Please go. Please.’

  Edward, too, was horrified by what had happened. All he had dared hope for was to sit near her for the duration of the journey and to hold her hand and perhaps kiss her cheek at parting.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured over and over again. ‘Dearest, I’m sorry. Don’t make me go. Don’t make me leave you. Tell me you forgive me. Oh my dear, say you forgive me.’

  ‘We both need forgiveness,’ Catrin said at last. Suddenly she seemed calmer than he. She shook the reins and drove on letting the tears dry on her face.

  ‘I love you, Catrin, I’ve known it since the moment I arrived. I think I knew it last year. I shall break off my engagement to Rose. When you come to London, I shall visit you every weekend and take you to art galleries and museums. Will you be my sweetheart, Catrin? Oh, promise me that you will.’

  His voice had taken on a hypnotic quality, pleading and tender, but somehow sure of success.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t know what will happen.’

  They drove on in silence until they could see the little town spread out before them. The morning was cloudless.

  Catrin turned into the narrow side road leading to the station. Edward took his watch from his pocket. ‘We’ve still got half an hour,’ he told her.

  But Catrin refused to wait with him in spite of all his pleading. She gave him her hand for an instant, then turned and left him without a backward glance.