Collected Works of E M Delafield

by E M Delafield

  “Miss Fletcher’s gone to the pictures, then, miss?”

  “Yes. The Major wouldn’t take No for an answer,” said Ada proudly, although as a matter of fact the Major had been given no opportunity of taking anything but Yes for an answer.

  “Coo-er!” said Dolly.

  Ada laughed indulgently.

  The hot tea, the warm kitchen — she had made up the fire again the moment she had heard the door shut behind Mabel and the Major — combined to produce in her an agreeable sense of relaxation.

  Dolly was a nice girl — not one to take advantage — and it did one good to have a few cheerful words with somebody before going off to bed after a heavy day. Therefore she did not snub Dolly when Dolly remarked confidentially that it seemed as though the Major was regularly taken up with Miss Fletcher, like.

  “It does, really,” Ada agreed. “Well, it’s natural, Dolly. A gentlemen likes to have someone to talk to, all about his little ailments and one thing and another. And my sister’s always been a great one for the men. Popular, I mean. As a girl, she had them all after her. If you’d ever told me, in those days, that she’d get left — an old maid — well, there, I shouldn’t have believed you.”

  “Perhaps she won’t get left, after all,” said Dolly audaciously.

  “Dolly, whatever are you thinking of?” Ada demanded in tones of reproof. But she was not really vexed. It was actually encouraging to find that Dolly, also, had noticed what she had noticed, and was hoping what she was hoping.

  “Perhaps it isn’t my place to pass any remark, miss,” faltered Dolly, “but I’m sure I thought it was as good as settled. Really I did.”

  “Do you mean — ?”

  “Miss Fletcher and the Major, miss.”

  “Oh!” Ada couldn’t help wanting the conversation to go on, although she knew that Dolly was presuming, and ought to be checked.

  “Everyone in the Parade houses is talking about it, miss, really and truly they are,” urged Dolly, as though this afforded some excuse for her own indiscretion. “Why, I’ve been asked if the day is fixed, by more than one, too.”

  “Have you?” gasped Ada. And in her own mind she thought: “Then there must be something in it. If other people, who don’t even live in the house, are beginning to think things, it can’t be just us imagining.”

  “I’m sure, miss, no one couldn’t wish for a nicer gentleman than the Major, now could they?”

  “No, indeed, Dolly. So considerate always, and regular in his ways, and quite the gentleman.”

  “He must be ever so well off, too. If ever I run out to get any little thing for him, it’s always: ‘Keep the change, Dolly,’ and he never dreams of counting it.”

  “He can afford not to, he’s no one but himself to think about. Not that I don’t think it’s very generous, mind. I do.”

  (But Ada could not help also thinking that the Major would have to curb those lavish instincts if he ever really did marry Mabel.)

  “I suppose, miss, he’s got a house of his own somewhere?”

  “Not at present, Dolly. He’s spent a number of years abroad, of course, and I fancy he’s made a sort of a home with his sister, Mrs. Ransome, who’s a widow. But her family’s growing up, now, and I dare say the Major feels he’d like to make a change.”

  “They wouldn’t live in St. Bray, would they, miss?” Dolly enquired, her ideas several steps in advance of any that Ada had as yet permitted herself.

  “It’s early days to be talking of — of anything like that.” But the topic once started, had a fascination.

  “Of course, the Major likes town. So does my sister, for that matter. She’s always said she’d rather live in town than anywhere. And there’s ever such a lot of these little labour-saving houses, round about London, now.”

  Ada looked round her with startled eyes as another thought came into her mind.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what’d happen to all this. I suppose it would all be sold. The furniture’s good and this house is worth more than it was when Mabel bought it.”

  “Wouldn’t you keep it on, miss?”

  “No — no, I don’t think so,” said Ada, pretending to reflect, although she had no ownership whatever in the house or the furniture. “I’d rather go somewhere smaller — much smaller — and perhaps help things out a bit with running teas in the summer,” she said, voicing a vague ambition that had hovered somewhere in the background of her mind for years.

  “Wouldn’t that be lovely!” Dolly exclaimed with youthful enthusiasm. “The charas don’t often get scones and cakes like yours, miss. And if you’d a bit of a garden, it’d be ever so nice, tea out of doors, and home-made jams and everything.”

  Her optimism was infectious.

  “I’d want a younger pair of legs to help me, you know, Dolly. I’d have to be in my kitchen, keeping the kettle going and all that. You’d have to run about with the plates and trays.”

  “Coo-er, I’d love it!”

  “Would you really?”

  “Truly I would, miss. It’s the stairs that get me so tired here and polishing all that oilcloth. And besides—”

  Ada knew very well what And besides was. Mabel was hard on the girl, and shouted at her unnecessarily, besides keeping a very sharp eye open to see that she did the maximum of work on the minimum of food, recreation, and sleep.

  At this last thought, Ada started and looked at the clock. “Well, I never, it’s long after nine. Go along up, Dolly. I’ll see to the things. Hurry up, there’s a good girl.”

  Dolly obediently went to seek the narrow, unventilated slip of attic in which there was room for scarcely anything at all excepting her camp-bed, her tin box, and an enamel jug and basin that had to stand upon the window-ledge.

  Ada, although fully intending to do as she had said she would and “see to the things,” leant back again in her creaky chair, and allowed drowsy, fantastic ideas to take possession of her.

  Supposing the Major really did — and Mabel got married after all — and married so comfortably, too! Perhaps the Major would want to furnish his house himself — he’d said something about having things in store. Mabel might be so well off that she’d let Ada take some of the No. 6 furniture away at a bargain price. Old things, that would look shabby in the new house.

  And one or two things really did belong to Ada. If her eldest brother would help a bit — and he was doing well in business — she might really set up that little tea-garden, somewhere just outside St. Bray. Fancy Dolly saying she’d like to come with her! Of course it wouldn’t be nearly such a hard place for the girl as this one was. Ada wouldn’t drive her, morning, noon, and night, as Mabel did. She liked Dolly, one could almost make a companion of her, really. And there’d be nobody to make a fuss, if the girl did get down ten minutes late on a winter’s morning. Now that one came to think of it, there’d no longer be any necessity for Ada herself to yawn and groan her way out of bed at the sound of Mabel’s inexorable alarm-clock every morning.

  Ada was half asleep by the time Mabel came in and started up guiltily at her sister’s entrance.

  Mabel, however, was not angry.

  She was excited and voluble, and explained that the Major had insisted on treating her to a fish-and-chips supper after the cinema.

  “Fancy, Ada, he kept on wanting to know why I hadn’t married, and saying that he wished he’d met me years ago! If it wasn’t such ridiculous nonsense, one might really think..

  Mabel’s voice died away and she did not finish the sentence.

  2

  From the very moment that she opened the door and took in the telegram, Ada felt that it meant trouble.

  Something, she declared afterwards, seemed to tell her so.

  She showed it to Dolly, who was half-way up the stairs rubbing the banisters and bade her take the telegram in to Major Trimmer, quietly eating his midday chop with mashed potatoes in the front sitting-room.

  When she went down the basement stairs again Mabel, her head tied up in
a handkerchief, popped out of their sitting-room and asked:

  “What was that bell?”

  “A telegram for the Major. Dolly’s taking it in to him.”

  “Oh!” said Miss Fletcher sharply. And a moment later she added:

  “That’s the Major’s bell. Here, give me the tray — I’ll take up his second course. The girl’s got all behind-hand this morning — fancy doing her stairs at this hour!”

  Mabel snatched up the tray, with its rice pudding in a frilled pie-dish, and went off with it.

  When she came down again, her face was a deep, fiery red.

  “Whatever do you think, Ada — the Major’s sister, that Mrs. Ransome or whatever her name is — wants to motor over here for lunch to-morrow. He says she’s staying in the neighbourhood with friends.”

  “How many of them will there be?” enquired Ada practically, her mind at once flying to the question of a joint of meat sufficiently large.

  “Just herself, from what he said, and perhaps one of the nieces. I must say, it seems a bit funny, not giving any more notice than that. Why, he might have been going out for the day himself, or anything. As it is, I’m sure I don’t know how we shall manage with an extra couple of places to lay and all the rest of it, with that nursery party on the top floor.”

  For the remainder of the day, Mabel dashed about more energetically even than usual. Everything in the house was rubbed, and dusted and brushed, and polished, and scrubbed, the children on the top floor front were sharply spoken to about bringing nasty, dirty seaweed upstairs, to the great indignation of their governess who already hated Miss Fletcher — and at a quarter to six next morning, Mabel personally hunted Dolly out of her bed and into the kitchen.

  It was a warm, moist day, and Ada, panting over the gas-oven, suggested that everyone would prefer a cold midday dinner. But Mabel would not hear of it.

  “Yes, I dare say, and have this Mrs. What’s-her-name saying that we can’t even send up a hot meal in the middle of the day. Have a cold sweet if you like, Ada, but you’ll just kindly roast that meat and serve it up hot, complete with gravy and a dish of potatoes and another of veg. And that’s that.”

  That was that — as Ada knew only too well it would be, when she heard that particular tone in her sister’s voice. Soon after twelve o’clock, a car drew up at the front doorstep of No. 6 — a step scoured to dazzling point by Dolly that morning, at Mabel’s command.

  Ada, as quickly as her feet, that always swelled in the spring, would permit, hurried to the window.

  “Come back,” hissed Mabel fiercely, behind her. “Don’t be so undignified.”

  “Aren’t you going to receive her, Mabel?” said Ada, as she obediently drew back, and loosed her clutch of the Nottingham lace curtain.

  “Not without I’m asked for. Whyever should I go up, I should like to know, just because a permanent let has a visitor to see him?”

  Nevertheless, Ada saw that Mabel had newly done her hair, and put on her Sunday skirt and new green silk jumper. And every time a bell rang she jumped nervously, although it was Dolly’s business to answer all the bells that rang from upstairs. The Major’s bell, however, did not ring, and at one o’clock Dolly carried up dinner to his sitting-room. She came down again, looking very pink and excited.

  “The Major’s compliments, Miss Fletcher, and he’ll be very pleased if you’d come up and drink a cup of coffee after dinner, and meet Mrs. Ransome.”

  And in quite a different manner — a less official manner, so to speak — Dolly added, to Ada:

  “Major Trimmer’ll be ever so much obliged, miss, if you’ll send up coffee for them after dinner, and he’s sorry he forgot to mention it earlier.”

  “Tell him it’s no trouble,” said Ada, almost automatically. “And reach me that bottle of Camp from off of the sideboard, Dolly, before you go. Thanks.” She hardly dared look at her sister, it was all so exciting and agitating.

  His wanting Mabel to meet his sister, like that, surely meant business?

  “How about your dinner, Mabel?” she ventured. “I’ll keep it hot between two plates, shall I?”

  The Misses Fletcher never had their own meal until after their lodgers had finished.

  “I don’t want anything. You can keep back one of those jam tartlets for me, that’ll be sufficient.”

  Mabel stalked out of the room, only looking back to tell Dolly not to dawdle, but get on with the trays for upstairs.

  Nevertheless, Dolly sucked in her underlip and opened her eyes expressively at Ada, before she went.

  And a brief vision of the little tea-garden, and Dolly and herself drinking cups of strong tea after a busy, successful afternoon, danced before Ada’s hot and weary eyes, as she dished up vegetables, and Yorkshire pudding, and jam tartlets.

  It was three o’clock before the washing-up was finished, and Dolly, whose afternoon out it was, dismissed by Ada.

  “Perhaps you’ll have some news for me when I gets in to-night,” carolled Dolly in her impudent young voice.

  Ada pretended not to hear.

  She was somehow feeling vaguely worried and uneasy.

  Mabel was still upstairs and when Ada stood in the hall and listened as intently as she could, she heard the voice of the strange woman, Mrs. Ransome, talking hard. But she was not able to distinguish any words through the closed door.

  Perceiving that she was wasting her time Ada moved away as quietly as she could and returned downstairs to brew herself a cup of tea.

  While she was still waiting for the kettle to boil she heard Mabel coming down, and looked up anxiously.

  Her sister went straight to the sitting-room, and banged the door.

  Ada’s heart sank.

  She did not dare go in for some time. When at last she did so, it was to find Mabel, still very much flushed, rapidly making up accounts at her desk. She signed imperatively for silence, and Ada sat down in the wicker armchair, scarcely daring to breathe.

  At last Mabel pushed her papers into a drawer, shut it with a push that made Ada start, and looked up.

  “That Mrs. Somebody — Major Trimmer’s sister — wants him to go over to those friends of hers — people on the other side of the bay — for the week-end.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Don’t ask me! How should I know?”

  “Is he going?”

  “Oh, of course he’s going. They’re sending the car over for him at eleven o’clock to-morrow, and he’ll be back in time for supper Monday night.”

  “What’s she like?” ventured Ada.

  Mabel gave a most unpleasant laugh.

  “Like a hyena in a mackintosh. If I had teeth like hers, I’d have ’em taken out and a new set put in, whatever it was going to cost me. I must say, I’d never have believed she was the Major’s sister — never. Why, she doesn’t even look like a lady!”

  ‘Wasn’t she nice to you, Mabel?”

  “Ada, you’re nothing but a fool. Do you suppose that I want a woman like that to be nice to me?” said Miss Fletcher furiously.

  And on Monday morning the blow fell.

  The Major, in a charming letter addressed to Mabel, informed her with immense regret that he would not be returning. His doctor was anxious to have him under his own eye for the present, in order to make the most of the great benefit that his health had received from the weeks spent at St. Bray.

  The Major would never forget the kindness of Miss Fletcher and her sister, and hoped not to lose sight of them altogether.

  He enclosed a cheque in lieu of a week’s notice, and would be most grateful if his belongings might be packed up and sent to his sister’s address in London, carriage forward.

  Enclosed was a small present (£2) for Miss Fletcher’s most capable and obliging little maid.

  It was all over.

  Somehow, the formidable sister had heard, or guessed, what was happening, and she had swooped down upon the Major and taken him off, as one might rescue, just in time, a victim....


  And there was poor Mabel, who had really begun to expect a magnificent release from her hard, grinding life of work — But it was almost impossible to go on feeling sorry for Mabel, who vented her bitterness in rage and abuse.

  Night after night, in the small room that they shared, she drove Ada to tears by her continual nagging and fault-finding.

  The dream of the little tea-garden faded, never to be revived again.

  As for Dolly, she was told of Major Trimmer’s present, but only five shillings of it came into her eager hands direct. Two pounds was a ridiculous sum for a girl in Dolly’s position and Miss Fletcher would take care of it for her until she needed it for something sensible. Dolly didn’t like it at all, but Miss Fletcher looked so furious and spoke so sharply that she dared not protest.

  But it did seem hard, Dolly thought, that she and poor Miss Ada should be the sufferers, just because a silly old maid had had a disappointment.

  THE OTHER POOR CHAP

  MR. NEWBERRY carefully replaced the telephone receiver and tiptoed away from the instrument as though from a sick-bed.

  He was not an imaginative man but he did, in truth, feel as though he must move quietly, just as the nurses and doctors were no doubt moving quietly round the smashed and ruined body of poor old Tom Kelly, lying on one of the beds in the Cottage Hospital.

  Poor chap, thought Mr. Newberry helplessly, poor chap! His own careless driving, too, as likely as not, had been responsible for the accident. Not that this was the moment to think anything of that sort about the poor chap, he rebuked himself.

  Mr. Newberry rang the bell and when the parlourmaid appeared, asked for a whisky and seltzer.

  “Yes sir,” said Edith.

  “The fact is,” Mr. Newberry told her, unable to restrain himself, “the fact is, I’ve had a bit of a shock. You remember Major Kelly, who comes here so often?”

  “Oh yes, sir.” accident. In fact, he’s in Cambling Cottage Hospital at this moment.”

  “Oh, sir! Oh, I am sorry! What happened, sir?”

  “A car smash. The other car was a very large one, and got off scot-free, but Major Kelly seems to have been flung some distance and terribly badly hurt.”