Something quite serious, that she didn’t know about, must be the matter.
Grandmama turned from the window, and Julia walked quietly away to the far end of the garden. Chang came with her, and he was quite grave too, and didn’t jump up or run at all.
She felt sure that he understood.
Terry didn’t come to look for her, nor mummie, nor anybody. Julia spent the afternoon alternately playing with Chang and reading East Lynne.
She also ate a good many unripe mulberries.
At last Chang got up and trotted towards the house again.
“Intelligent darling!’ thought Julia ecstatically. “He knows it’s tea-time, and that it’s time for me to go in.”
Chang was right.
It was tea-time.
Terry, when he took his place at the tea-table, didn’t look at Julia or anybody. His face had that frightfully green look which meant that he was upset about something, and he knocked over a cup of tea almost at once.
The tea went all over the table, and onto Terry’s clothes, and onto the carpet, and when Julia sprang to mop it up with her handkerchief she was told by grandmama to sit still and not make things worse.
Grandmama was fearfully unjust.
“Will the Drummonds be coming to tea here these holidays?” Julia enquired, when the fuss about the spilt tea had quieted down.
She asked this partly so as to create a diversion, and partly because she wanted to see whether she was going to be scolded for what she’d said to Katherine. If Lady Sybil had really come up to complain about her, it seemed too unnatural that nothing at all should be said about it.
The moment after she’d spoken Julia saw, by the way mummie and grandmama looked quickly at one another, and then away again, that the whole thing was more serious than she’d supposed.
She felt rather frightened, and still more anxious.
“You see, Daphne,” said grandmama, in a very grim kind of voice.
Then she turned to Julia.
“My dear child, neither the Drummonds nor any other properly-brought-up children will come to tea with you in this house, until you’ve learned to behave yourself. I’m not saying anything to you about what happened, because I dare say mummie will do that now she’s here, but I may tell you that I’m both disappointed and very much ashamed. I can only suppose that you’ve picked up some very vulgar ideas at school, and if mummie takes my advice you won’t be sent back there.”
Julia, astounded and deeply mortified, felt herself turning scarlet.
And what had school got to do with it, anyway?
“I’ll talk to you after tea, Julia,” said mummie, sounding furious.
Grandpapa unexpectedly put out his hand and patted Julia’s.
“What about a piece of sponge-cake, eh?” he asked.
Julia shook her head, but she felt grateful to him all the same. She felt even more grateful when he began to talk about something that had been in the newspaper about Italy, turning everybody’s attention away from her.
Then Terry dropped his knife.
“My dear boy!” said grandmama.
Terry stooped to pick it up.
“Look out!” cried Julia — but she was just too late. He bumped his head violently against the corner of the tea-table as he came up again.
“Oh my God!” mummie cried, almost in a scream.
If only she hadn’t done that, it might have been all right. But of course that finished it.
Terry uttered one of his worst and loudest shrieks. It rang through the hall, and a dreadful echo seemed to come from the huge china bowls and vases on the mantelpiece, and to go on and on.
“Terence, if you’re going to behave like a baby you’d better go upstairs,” said grandpapa.
Terry pushed back his chair and rushed upstairs and the chair, after rocking madly, fell down with a clatter.
Mummie actually burst out laughing — but not at all as if she were amused. More as if she were going to cry.
“Daphne, Daphne!” said grandmama. “Dear, dear, dear! Poor little boy, I don’t blame him in the least. His nerves are completely on edge. It simply goes to show that George Drummond was absolutely right.”
“If you ask me,” mummie said violently, “it was great impertinence in him to offer his opinion at all. What does he know about Terry or whether he’s fit to go to a Public School or not? He’s scarcely seen the boy.”
“George and Sybil Drummond are amongst my oldest friends, and as for not knowing the boy, Daphne, he had him on his hands for several hours, practically in a state of nervous collapse, and he seems to have handled him most kindly and understandingly.”
“Terry ought never to have been allowed to go amongst those barbarous little brutes of children at all — it’s enough to send a sensitive, highly-strung child out of his mind to have seen that disgusting butchery. We don’t know what harm it may have done. That kind of shock may do the most frightful lasting damage to a boy like Terry.”
“Now, now, my dear child, don’t exaggerate. You’re upset — you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, father, I do. You don’t understand. Modern psychologists all think that it’s the things that happen in childhood—”
“Modern fiddlesticks!” cried grandmama, interrupting — a thing she was continually telling other people never to do. “Don’t talk to me about that wicked, new-fangled rubbish, Daphne. Simply putting disgusting ideas into the minds of innocent children. And besides, what do these psychoanalysts know that any sensible mother couldn’t have told them years ago? It doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to find out that what every child needs is to be taught the true meaning of religion and discipline, in a happy, settled home, with a stable background.”
“My dear, my dear!” said grandpapa.
Mummie, holding her handkerchief up to her face, got up and rushed quickly away.
Julia felt certain she was crying.
She herself felt definitely frightened as well as extremely miserable.
What were things coming to, when grown-up people themselves obviously didn’t know what to do next, and practically said so, right in front of one?
And what was all that about Terry not being fit to go to a Public School? He couldn’t stay on at a Prep. School for ever. He didn’t even like being there. Julia had always felt sure he’d be happier at a Public School than at a Prep. School because everybody said boys had more freedom at their Public Schools, and were left to themselves more.
If they weren’t going to let poor Terry go to a Public School like any other boy, what on earth were they going to do with him?
Julia felt that in another minute she’d have to scream herself.
In order to prevent this from happening, she suddenly hurled herself from her chair and threw herself on Chang, at the same time hissing through her teeth in the way that made him bark. Chang instantly understood, and broke out into noisy barking.
The uproar that followed — grandpapa shouting to Chang to be quiet, and grandmama ordering Julia to get up, and Julia herself shrieking at Chang, and Chang madly barking — was a great relief.
It ended in Chang’s being put outside the front door, which seemed rather unjust — but that couldn’t be helped, and after all, there were plenty of things to amuse him in the garden.
Grandmama wasn’t nearly as much annoyed as she might have been. She took Julia into her own sitting-room and said she’d read to her, and what would she like?
Julia chose the Arabian Nights, and would have enjoyed the History of Agib — most of which she knew by heart — very much indeed if she hadn’t been worried about Terry.
She could only hope that he was with mummie.
Grandmama read for a long while. That was the best of her. She was never in a hurry, as mummie was, and the people at school, and almost everybody else that Julia knew. Grandmama could always go on doing the same thing, whatever it was, for simply ages at a time.
At last, however, she stopped.
“Poor little thing,” said grandmama, looking at her in rather a melancholy way.
Julia, feeling a little bit embarrassed, looked solemnly back again.
“Is Terry really not going to any Public School at all, grandmama?”
“I don’t know, my darling. Poor Terry isn’t very strong, in some ways, and perhaps it might be better to let him wait a little. Though he doesn’t really care very much about his present school, does he?”
“I don’t know,” said Julia, not feeling sure what Terry would like her to say.
“Julia, dear, why didn’t you tell us about going down to see the rabbits being — got rid of — in the Drummonds’ field?”
Julia’s mouth opened, all of its own accord, in her surprise and annoyance at being asked such a question.
“I forgot,” she said at last.
Well — it was a lie. No use to pretend it wasn’t. But she just felt she couldn’t help telling it. She simply couldn’t answer grandmama’s question in any other way.
To her enormous relief, grandmama didn’t press the point.
“You see, children who live in the country get used to certain things that may seem a little bit cruel but that are really necessary. Rabbits, for instance, have to be got rid of, otherwise they’d over-run everything and do a terrible amount of damage. But I dare say you’d never actually seen one killed before?”
“No,” said Julia.
“I’m very sorry you saw it at all. Of course it was quite natural that the little Drummonds shouldn’t think twice about taking you down there — they didn’t realize that you and Terry hadn’t seen anything of that sort before. But I’m afraid it upset poor Terry most dreadfully.”
“Did it?” said Julia, wriggling.
“Darling, you know it did. Luckily, Lady Sybil and her husband are very kind people, and they took all the trouble to come up here and explain just what had happened. They were only sorry that Terry should have minded so much.”
“The more fuss there is, the more he’ll go on minding,” muttered Julia, taking care to say the words so that grandmama wouldn’t quite hear them.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, grandmama.”
Grandmama sighed and shook her head.
In another minute she might easily begin about Julia’s having quarrelled with Katherine and said the word “adultery.” The pig Katherine had repeated it to her mother, and Lady Sybil had come up to tell grandmama about it.
“Please will you excuse me a minute, grandmama?” said Julia rapidly.
“Yes, certainly. You can use the downstairs one if you like,” said grandmama very kindly.
Julia thankfully made her escape.
She didn’t see Terry again till supper-time and then he was very quiet and miserable.
Julia tried everything she could think of, to cheer him up.
She said “Now, chinthen!” just like Lady Sybil in the most amusing way, and tried to get Terry interested by questions about the imaginary people in their private game, and by telling him about Chang’s cleverness in knowing just when it was time to go in to tea — but it wasn’t any of it much good. Then mummie suddenly came in, wearing a black evening frock with lace sleeves. She talked for a little while, and it appeared that she was thinking of taking Terry and Julia back to “Rosslyn” with her.
“Gosh!” cried Julia, astonished. “When?”
“The day after tomorrow. You’d like to come, wouldn’t you?”
Julia glanced at Terry.
He nodded vehemently.
“Yes,” said Julia. But she added: “Will grand-mama mind?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. You’ll be paying her another visit quite soon, anyway.”
“But not these holidays, shall we? I don’t mean I want to. I think we’ve moved about quite enough.”
“It couldn’t be helped, as I’ve told you already. No, not these holidays. There won’t be time. It isn’t really so very long before you go back to school, and your clothes have got to be seen to, and you must go to the dentist, both of you.”
“It’s been left a bit late, hasn’t it?” said Julia, who knew that the dentist was always extra busy in the holidays. She really hadn’t meant to be interfering, but she wasn’t wholly surprised when mummie made a rather impatient sound and said something about leaving that to her and it was time Julia learnt to mind her own business.
Julia thought for a moment of sulking, but decided that she’d really better be good. What with one thing and another, she might at any moment find herself in serious disgrace, and she could see that mummie wasn’t at all in the mood for standing any nonsense.
“Chang will miss us, won’t he?” said Terry. “Oh, couldn’t he come?” Julia cried. “We could take him for walks on the Common.”
Mummie shook her head.
“It isn’t our own house, Julia, or even our furniture. And he wouldn’t really be happy there, especially once you’ve gone back to school.”
“We are going back, then? I mean, to the same old schools?” said Julia.
She was thinking of how grandmama had said at tea that if mummie took her advice, Julia wouldn’t be sent back to school at all.
“Don’t you want to go back?” mummie asked.
Julia and Terry looked at one another.
She knew that he was feeling, as she was, that this was the sort of question one simply couldn’t answer.
Whatever one said, it wouldn’t be true.
Julia took refuge in giggling.
“Well,” said mummie in a helpless kind of way, and getting up as she spoke, “you’re both of you quite old enough to know that it isn’t always very easy to know what’s the best thing to do. God knows I take enough trouble to make you happy, whatever daddy may say.”
Good gracious, one had almost forgotten about daddy!
“I suppose we shall see him again before the end of the holidays, if we’re going to London?” Julia asked.
“I suppose so,” mummie said.
Julia felt positive from the way she said it that mummie didn’t really want them to see daddy at all.
If it was because of Petah, she could understand it — and still more if it was because of Mrs. Capper. But if it was because of daddy himself, then it was unjust and horrible.
XIII
THEY would have to travel by train as mummie hadn’t got a car. Their old car, which Julia had once supposed to belong to the whole family, had evidently been only daddy’s, since he’d taken it away with him.
When it came to the point she was quite sorry to leave the Plás — and fearfully sorry to leave Chang. He looked so sad, too, when Terry and Julia kissed and petted him, and said goodbye to him over and over again.
Grandmama and grandpapa stood at the hall-door to see them off and Julia heard grandmama say:
“Remember Daphne, I’m here, when you want me. But it’s on one condition only — I must have complete charge, and absolute authority in your absence. Otherwise I won’t take the responsibility.”
And mummie answered: “Oh, mother, I know you mean to be kind but you do make things so difficult. Anyway, I must see what Mark says. And probably we shan’t go for ages yet — if at all.”
Was mummie going to change her plans again? She couldn’t surely mean that they weren’t going back to London, with the car at the door and all the luggage on it?
Evidently she didn’t, for everybody began to say goodbye, and Tucker opened the door of the car and they got in and were driven off to the station.
In the train mummie suddenly began to talk about uncle Tom — making Julia realize that she’d not mentioned him once, at the Plás — and said how pleased he’d be to see them all again.
“Why? Has he changed?” Julia enquired, with terrific sarcasm.
Terry began to laugh, but stopped quickly when mummie gave Julia a shattering lecture all about being pert, and mistaking rudeness for wit, and it was
no wonder grandmama thought that school was doing her more harm than good. And what was more, said mummie, she’d a very good mind to write to Miss Kendal about Julia and say that she was far from satisfied with her manners. At that Julia felt quite sick with apprehension.
Being scolded at home didn’t matter very much one way or the other — but to be sent for by Miss Kendal was a very different thing. Besides, it would be so frightfully humiliating. All the people in authority thought well of her, at school, and if she did get into trouble it was always for some rather dashing deed that one didn’t a bit mind one’s friends knowing about — on the contrary.
Julia didn’t recover her spirits at all until Terry, in the most angelic way, handed her his Daily Mirror without speaking, but smiling at her very kindly and pointing to a funny picture.
They weren’t met at the station. Julia had half hoped to see the splendid car there. But mummie didn’t seem to have expected it at all. Later on, she said that uncle Tom was at The Barracks and wouldn’t be home till late.
“Rosslyn” looked much the same as ever, and Norah opened the door to them but didn’t seem specially pleased to see them. Mrs. Strang, however, when Julia went to the kitchen, was very friendly and kissed her and gave her a handful of sultanas.
Julia and Terry were sharing the sultanas in front of the house when, unexpectedly, the Captain’s big car turned in at the gate and rushed up the drive.
“Gosh! he’s come!” said Julia.
They stood back against the laurel bushes and watched the Captain — who hadn’t seen them — draw up at the front door and switch off his engine.
“His head is still too small for his body,” whispered Julia.
“Did you think it might have grown?” asked Terry — and they both began to laugh. The Captain heard them as he was getting out of the car, and turned round, so they had to go forward.
He said “How-d’y-do?” quite pleasantly and shook hands with both of them.
Then he shouted out: “Daphne!”
There was no answer and he shouted again.
Julia restrained an impulse to run into the house and look for mummie. She thought the Captain ought to go and find her, not yell like that.
Collected Works of E M Delafield Page 459
