Left alone by their elders the children drew together. They stood round Virginia.
“There’s nothing the matter with her, is there?” asked Lucia.
“She’s not ill; in a way she’s just the same as usual only she’s different.”
Peter stooped to play with Slipper’s ears.
“What sort of different?”
“I can’t explain but she is. She said Slipper had to be on a lead even in the wood because of Smith, but Smith never goes in the wood, it isn’t his garden. The bluebells have been trodden on in my glade and I told her so, and she looked at me in a funny way. Then she was sort of scolding to Daddie when he wanted to look at her car, and she’s never cross.”
Paul skipped with excitement.
“Black market! I read this was the sort of house where black marketeers hid things. I bet they’ve got Grannie in their clutches. That would explain. Of course, she doesn’t want anybody here. Let’s explore.”
Andrew used his B.B.C. thriller voice.
“And find the secret of the Caldwells.”
Peter felt he was too old for such silliness but he was drawn into the game.
“The net is closing in.”
They were startled by Virginia, who burst into tears.
“You’re hateful. Creeping about and looking for things when poor Grannie’s worried. You’re beasts!” Dragging Slipper behind her she ran out of the kitchen.
The boys and Helen made embarrassed faces at each other. Lucia thought them incredibly stupid.
“Virginia’s been awfully worried about Grannie. This was more home than her own house, which isn’t queer, for Uncle George and Aunt Felicity aren’t in much so she’s only got Miss Selby, who’s an awful wet. She’s planned and planned for to-day, to find what’s wrong and get back. Then you go and make everything silly by turning it into a tracking game.”
Peter was ashamed.
“It was only a joke. Come on, let’s go and find her.”
Andrew and Paul watched Helen, Lucia and Peter walk down the drive. Without discussion they divided what was left of the food. Paul spoke indistinctly through a mouth full of bun.
“I didn’t like us both being away from school the same day in case Uncle Tony turned up, but now I’m not sorry. Do you feel what I feel, Andrew?”
Andrew gave a shockingly accurate imitation of his headmaster.
“I think, Caldwell, we will find this a useful field for the inquiring mind.”
Anna watched the children, Carol and Margaret go into the kitchen. She knew Henry, Jane and Felicity were at the bottom of the garden and she saw Simon wander off to join them. She laid a hand on George’s arm.
“Come and look at my forsythia. It’s particularly beautiful this year.”
They stood before the forsythia. George, who knew nothing about flowers, trying to find something suitable to say. Anna spoke before he had thought of anything.
“I have a lot to thank you for, George dear.”
“Not really. Virginia’s idea. Thought you wouldn’t want us all barging in without warning.”
“Not for that telephone call. For a telephone call some years ago.” George moved as if to speak. “Until I heard your whispered message this morning I never suspected that other message came from you. How good you have been.”
George was horribly embarrassed.
“Do anything for Felicity. I heard from a reliable source what had happened before I came on leave. He was based near me. Couldn’t let poor old Felicity hear he had been killed; in front of me. She’s got the courage of a lion but that was a knock-out blow. Thought if you told her the night before she could get a grip on herself.”
“You know I didn’t get to her the night before. There was a railway accident, and you couldn’t hire cars at that time. I only reached her at the railway station a few minutes before your train got in.”
“Gathered something of the sort had happened.”
“What made you think I knew about him?”
“Didn’t. But you were the only chance. Thought she would take it better from you than any one.”
“She’s never forgiven me. She was always like that from a child. She resented interference in her private affairs. That I should have known and broken the news to her has made us strangers.”
George fumbled at his tie.
“It was a bad patch for everybody. Did what I could. Afraid she might kill herself.”
Suddenly conscious of the truth, Anna said:
“You knew about him when you married her.”
“That’s right. She married me because there was no chance of meeting him with me.”
“It was very wrong of her.”
“No. She didn’t know it but I knew what I was doing. Take her on any terms.”
“But they couldn’t keep apart?”
“Wouldn’t know about that. Never heard anything. Don’t want to worry, you know. It’s over now. She’s a bit better, bless her.” His tongue was used only to a slim selection of words. Awkwardly he searched for some new ones. With pleasure he found a simile to explain what he could not say. “He was angostura to her gin. No drink unless you’ve got the two.”
Anna said softly:
“Dear George. You are good.”
George thought the conversation had gone on long enough.
“What about us joining the others? Can’t take up too much of you or Jane’ll pin my ears back. Family day and all that.”
The dining-room buzzed with chatter. The children sat round the table methodically eating their way through every dish. The adults leaned over and speared what they wanted on to their plates, wandering back to their conversations and their glasses. The sight of so much comfort and good, American food, carried Margaret’s mind to her poorer, worst-housed patients. She saw the squalid Boswick home and Lily sobbing out her dreary little story. Anna was sitting at the far end of the room talking to Henry and Simon. Margaret raised her voice. She had to speak twice before Anna heard her. Anna lifted her head. She held up a hand.
“A little quieter, dears. Margaret is trying to tell me something.”
“It’s nothing much. But you know that folding cot in the old nursery. Could I have it? I want to take it to-morrow morning to one of my patients. She’s had a lot of trouble, poor little thing, and there is nowhere for her babies to sleep.”
One of Anna’s hands was lying on the arm of her chair. Without knowing it she gripped the woodwork. Her voice, however, showed no agitation.
“What a pity, dear. I’ve given it away.”
Her children looked at her. Henry in dismay. She must be breaking up if she had started getting rid of things. Something must be done about that. It hurt him to think of anything leaving the house; it was his mental retreat to think of it sitting there unaltered down to the last ornament. Jane’s eyes were angry. How often had she implored for this and that. When W.V.S. were appealing for anything and everything for those whose homes had been destroyed by flying bombs and rockets, Anna had refused to part with anything. Quietly she had said: “I’ll give you money, dear. There’s nothing very much which would be useful here, and what there is I like to have by me in case any of you need it.” Felicity’s eyes were amazed. Better than any of the others, because she had been closer to her, she knew that Anna kept her possessions, comic as many of them were, because they belonged to the time when her father was alive. How often had she wandered round Anna’s bedroom, laughing at the gilt clock, with its glass covering and dust preventive red worm. At the family joke bronze bull. The beaded footstool. The ghastly fly-walked engravings. The family photographs. The Lincoln imp doorstop and the rest of the harvest of holidays, anniversaries and wedding presents. “Darling, you must get rid of this ghastly box.” “I love it, dear. An old man—I can’t remember his name—gave it me that year you were born, wh
en we all went to Folkestone.”
A barrage of questions flew at Anna. To whom had the cot been given? How could she have forgotten? She must remember. It must have been somebody she cared a lot for to make her give it away.
Miss Doe came in with the coffee. Jane said:
“Perhaps Miss Doe knows. Who did Mrs. Caldwell give that folding cot in the old nursery to?”
Miss Doe beamed at Anna. What a lovely day the old dear was having!
“Nothing’s been given away since I’ve been here. I don’t remember a folding cot.”
“Oh, you must!” said Felicity. “Under that revolting picture of Little Miss Muffet.”
Miss Doe set out the coffee cups.
“I haven’t been in the nursery since Mrs. Conrad left.”
Anna raised her voice.
“Miss Doe is splendid, but she can’t do everything. I’ve closed the rooms we don’t use.”
Margaret thought that she understood.
“Don’t worry, Mother darling. I expect the cot’s still there. I’ll go up after lunch and have a look.”
Anna’s grip on her chair arm tightened.
“I don’t wish it, dear. The door’s locked and everything’s put away. Tell me, what are you children going to do this afternoon?”
Eyes caught eyes. Eyebrows were lifted in query and were answered by shrugs. Without a word said it was understood that this situation would be discussed later. Mother certainly was becoming a little odd.
Simon, accustomed to the use of quiet summing-up glances at a jury, missed nothing: Henry was upset; Jane was angry, but also puzzled; Felicity amazed and Margaret disbelieving. Anna, outwardly calm, showed by a clenched hand she was nervous; but she was firm as a rock. Nobody was going in the old nursery and nobody would be told why. The matter, Anna’s voice had told him, was closed. Curious, thought Simon. First the garage; now the nursery. This business of living alone and roaming the countryside. The old girl looked all right. He would have sworn she was quite on the spot, if not more so than anybody in the room. Still, her behaviour was certainly queer.
Uneasiness spread through the dining-room. The children looked self-consciously at each other, aware of grown-up tension. Virginia knew what the fuss was about and could share it. She knew every inch of the house and what should be in it. She knew the folding cot under the picture of Miss Muffet. It had been there just before Christmas. No doors were ever locked at Grannie’s; nothing was packed away; things stood always in the same positions; that was one of the things that was so lovely. Lucia was sitting next to Virginia. She gave her a nudge to ask if Grannie was being queer, and Virginia made a face to say she would tell her afterwards.
Anna felt the atmosphere. She got up.
“If you children have no plans for the afternoon I’ve got a plan for now. Let’s all go outside and eat that beautiful fruit out of Felicity’s grand basket.”
The fruit eating eased the tension. It made talking easier. Simon, chewing grapes, stood by Anthea.
“Nip across when you like. I’ll get hold of you if you are missed.”
Virginia sat on the doorstep of the french window. She beckoned to Lucia to join her.
“Grannie doesn’t seem a bit ill, Lucia, or different really. She was sort of queer about the garage—and it was odd about the old nursery . . .”
“What was the fuss about that cot?”
“Aunt Margaret wanted it and Grannie said she’d given it away. She never gives things away. She’s always laughed about it. She used to say she was a miser, only she hoarded things not money. She said the old nursery was locked; nothing ever was locked.”
“Have you talked to her yet?”
“No. I’ve simply got to. Nannie’s sent her a letter.”
“Nannie has! But I thought Nannie didn’t like Grannie.”
“So did I. I was wrong. It was Miss Doe she didn’t like. I can’t think why, because she’s awfully nice. Nannie thinks I haven’t order in my home. That I twist Miss Selby round my finger.”
“Which you do.”
“Not really. We don’t interfere with each other much. She says I don’t sit in the drawing-room in the evening with Daddie and Mummie.” Virginia stopped and lifted Slipper’s face to hers. “That I ought to go to dancing classes although they bore this poor boy stiff. And I don’t go to church. That I ought to have regular hours. She says it all adds up to loose ends, which I didn’t have when I stayed with Grannie. She’s written to her about it.”
“You haven’t got to catch an early train like we have. You ought to get a chance to talk to her when we’ve gone.”
“I think it will be easier while you’re here. I thought you could help, and Daddie’s promised to. Could you get everybody away? Could you take your mother for a walk?”
Lucia licked the stone of a plum she had eaten.
“I’d rather take Dad than Mother. I’m not in her good books, because I wore the wrong clothes. Actually I can bear with any kind of despising to-day, because the most marvellous thing’s happened. Dad, though he couldn’t see how awful I looked, has promised to ask Aunt Carol to get me teen-age styles from America. Imagine the glory!” They looked across the lawn at Helen, who was talking to Carol. The same thought struck them both. “I know,” Lucia agreed, “I won’t ever, ever look like that even if millions were spent on me. Still, I pray every night about bulging less. They say prayers work miracles.”
Virginia’s eyes were straying round the family group.
“If only a few of them would move I’d get my chance.”
“Anthea’s moving now. She’s pretending to go for a walk, but she’s going to Mr. Gnome Pickering’s to see Jim.”
“Aunt Margaret’s moving; she’s talking to Peter.”
Lucia dug her elbow into Virginia.
“Look, Mother’s making for Uncle Henry. She’s got her ‘sense of duty’ face on. She’s going to talk to him about Grannie.”
Virginia got up.
“I’ll get Daddie to shift Uncle Simon.”
“What about your mother? Shall I talk to her?”
Virginia squeezed Lucia’s arm.
“Please. Talk to her somewhere where you can see me and Grannie and if anybody comes near us do something to head them off. Oh, Lucia, if only, only Grannie would explain wouldn’t it be gorgeous? I’d feel all different all over.”
Paul and Andrew, with a large supply of fruit, had wandered to the bottom of the garden. Andrew once more imitated his headmaster.
“You noticed, I hope, Caldwell, the implication.”
Paul leant against a tree and chewed an apple.
“She must be in the hands of a terrible gang. I bet if we could get into the old nursery we’d find thousands of pounds worth of loot. Where shall we start?”
“In the garden. Footprints and all that.” Andrew broke off. “Tell you what, let’s try and borrow Slipper. That sort of dog ought to be a marvellous tracker.”
Paul spat out his apple core and began to chew grapes.
“He can’t come off his lead.”
“Who wants him to? A bloodhound’s always held, I’ve seen photographs of them.”
“Good. I vote we start him at the bottom of the wood. You’ll have to borrow him. If I go up on the lawn again Mother’ll want to talk to me.”
Andrew’s voice was Virginia’s, clogged with sobs.
“How can you think I’d lend you Slipper? I won’t have the angel boy tracking in darling Grannie’s garden.”
“Go and try. Mother’s talking to Helen. If she doesn’t see me she might take Helen for a walk. Virginia’s sitting on the step talking to Lucia.”
Andrew nodded.
“I saw them. Do you know, those two ring each other up every day and still they find lots to talk about. I do think girls are queer.”
And
rew stood in front of Lucia and Virginia. He stared at them; his glasses gave him a solemn look. His face wore an expression well known to his family: an innocent-little-boy look which meant he was planning something.
“Could Paul and I take Slipper for a little walk? We never get a chance to take a dog out at school, and I had a tooth out yesterday. It bled and bled.”
Lucia knew all about yesterday’s deception and that the mention of the tooth was dragged in, not merely to arouse sympathy but, since Andrew knew she knew how little actual suffering there had been, it was a call for family aid. She wondered what he was up to. Still that tracking nonsense, probably. Loyal as Lucia was to her brothers and sister, Virginia took first place in her heart. If Virginia was to be upset again at a game being made of whatever was wrong with Grandmother, she would have defended Virginia. But there were advantages in Paul and Andrew having Slipper. She pressed her elbow into Virginia’s side.
“They could take him a little walk, couldn’t they, as long as they absolutely swore not to let him off the lead?”
Virginia hated Slipper out of her sight, but she saw what Lucia meant. She handed over Slipper’s lead.
“Only a little one, then.”
Andrew pulled Slipper towards him.
“Only down to the bottom of the garden. Come on, Slipper old boy. Come on.”
Carol watched the family wandering off in couples. She watched Paul and Andrew running down the garden with Virginia’s dog. That was nice. She would join them later. It was just lovely in this peaceful garden. What a pity the children had to leave so early. She put her arm round Helen’s shoulders.
“Let’s go and sit in the car. I’ve got a box of candy and that new American Vogue. There’s just the darlingest frock I want you to see.”
Margaret found Peter heavy going. His conversation was all “Yes” or “No.” She felt perhaps that he was shy of talking to any one while his mother could see him. That he was fearful of “What was Aunt Margaret talking to you about?” She suggested the car. Would he like a little run round? They might go and see if there was any cherry blossom out yet on the fruit farm on the top of the hill. It was not even then easy to get through his shyness. He sat stiffly beside her. She spared him the strain of talking, hoping he would relax and talk to her if she first talked to him. She told him stories of her patients and presently he grew easier and asked a few questions, and, by the time they reached the fruit farm, he was chattering happily though parrying any conversational thrust that could turn the subject to himself.
Mothering Sunday Page 23