‘What have you chanced upon?’ Miss Bohun asked excitedly. ‘What are they? Oh! Irises! Such interesting flowers.’ She stared blindly at them for a moment, then swinging quickly round she all but trampled them under her feet. ‘I’ve all sorts of rare irises in the garden,’ she said. ‘A young botanist planted them here. He was caught in the Middle East at the outbreak of war. He’d been everywhere getting these bulbs – Mount Tabor, Djebel Druse, the Lebanon – I don’t know where not. He was going to Cairo to join up and he didn’t know what to do with all these valuable bulbs – so I offered him a home for them.’
‘Has he never been back for them?’ asked Mrs Ellis in a husky voice.
‘No – but he did write from Tunisia and ask me to dig them up and post them to him. As though I knew where they all were! Some people have no scruples at all about putting others to trouble. I didn’t reply and I hope I shall hear nothing more.’
‘Won’t he be sad about losing them?’ asked Felix.
‘No doubt – but I rather suspected he intended smuggling these bulbs into England and it’s forbidden, you know. They carry plant diseases.’
‘I didn’t know.’ Felix appreciated Miss Bohun’s scruples, but he could not help feeling sorry for the young man. Mrs Ellis, however, appeared indifferent to the story. Her face was turned aside and Felix, glancing furtively at her, noticed the even china-white of her skin and her delicate, regular features. Her hair, a light chestnut, was completely smooth. Felix had always regarded his mother’s blonde fluffy-haired prettiness as the ideal of feminine beauty, but now he looked at Mrs Ellis as though he were seeing beauty for the first time. Miss Bohun, also looking at her, said: ‘You’re admiring my potted plants, I see. I got them from an old Armenian woman down the road. She had them on a balcony and every time I passed I could see them wilting away. At last I knocked on her door and said: “Why don’t you water your plants?” She said they’d belonged to a lodger who had gone to Aleppo, so I said I’d take them and look after them. One day she came down the lane and saw how fine they’d grown and, if you can credit it, she asked for them back again.’
Mrs Ellis smiled, then, turning with a sudden, quick movement and seeing Felix watching her, her smile widened and she said: ‘I like your cat.’
‘She’s called “Faro”.’ Felix blushed again, this time with pure pleasure.
He lifted Faro down from his shoulder and held her in his hands thinking Mrs Ellis might want to take her, but Mrs Ellis merely put out a white, claw-thin hand and gave her a chuck under the chin. Felix realised that, to her, Faro, who for weeks had been his companion, talking, feeling and thinking exactly as Felix did himself, was only a little animal. Felix, looking into Faro’s eyes, seemed to see them blank and unthinking and, as he watched her, she turned her gaze entranced upon the movements of a fly. Of course she was not a human being like Mrs Ellis, but a cat whose reactions were to warmth, mice, birds and flies. As this thought passed through his mind, Faro wriggled and jumped to the ground, where she lifted one of her front paws so that she could stab at her creamy front with her pink, darting tongue.
When Felix looked up he found that Miss Bohun was watching him; she looked cross and, catching his eye, said:
‘As a matter of fact she’s my cat.’
‘She’s a beauty,’ said Mrs Ellis politely.
Miss Bohun made a movement as though offering to conduct Mrs Ellis away, but instead she walked off, saying: ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know one another while I order luncheon.’
As Miss Bohun disappeared into the house, Mrs Ellis gave a laugh: ‘She’s a joke, isn’t she?’
Felix looked in surprise towards the door, then laughed himself. Suddenly it seemed that that was, of course, the explanation of Miss Bohun. She was a joke.
‘But she’s quite clever, really,’ he said quickly, ‘she teaches English.’
‘Oh, she’s all right.’ Mrs Ellis paused, her hands in her pockets, looking down at her feet, then she added in an aside and in a tone different from any she had used before: ‘She rang me up and said she wanted to offer me a home. I should be grateful. It’s more than anyone else has done.’
‘She offered me a home, too,’ said Felix, ‘I had nowhere else to go.’
‘Haven’t you any relations out here?’
‘Only Miss Bohun, and she isn’t really a relation. You see, when she was a little girl she was an orphan. Well, not an ordinary orphan; she had some money left her, but she hadn’t a mother or a father. My grandfather gave her a home, the same as she’s given me. But his wife died and he got married again and he had some real children – I mean, they belonged to him, and, of course, Miss Bohun didn’t, and she was a lot older by that time. My mother thinks she wasn’t happy and it made her funny. My mother said: “It’s given her an inferiority thing” – do you know what that means?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Mrs Ellis laughed in at herself.
‘But I don’t think she feels inferior.’
‘Neither do I. Rather the reverse.’
They stood silent a moment; then she jerked her hand nervously, her bracelets rattled, and she said: ‘I must go and unpack.’ Without glancing at him again, she returned to the house.
Felix wandered around, troubled, the garden and the spring no longer beautiful in themselves but somehow now oddly related to his own disturbance. He disliked this disturbance and when he saw Faro sitting alone on the garden seat, he was swept with remorse that put everything else from his mind. He crossed to her and started to stroke her, but she turned her head and bit his hand with quiet decision. The bite did not hurt; it was no more than a warning; not understanding, he tried to lift her and in one instantaneous movement she caught his wrist between her paws and bit him sharply. He drew his hand away with a cry, and she stared at him with a sort of defiance. Looking into her eyes he seemed to see her retreat into cold, animal independence, but behind this there was resentment.
‘Faro,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry,’ but as he put out his hand again she backed from him, and as he rose she ran up the mulberry tree out of his reach.
He stood under the tree thinking Mrs Ellis must be noticing him from her window, but when he caught a glimpse of her through the glass she was absorbed in putting her frocks into the wardrobe. With a pang such as he had never felt before in his life, he knew she had not seen him at all.
Miss Bohun, sitting with a piece of cold meat before her, kept one hand on the bell that she had now rung twice. She glanced towards the stairs as though she could better hear Mrs Ellis’s descent if she looked in that direction, but there was no sound. She clicked her tongue.
‘Dear me,’ she said, ‘I hope we’re not going to have this sort of thing. I don’t like to ring three times. I don’t want her to think I’m annoyed,’ but she gave the bell a little shake and at once, as though as a result, Mrs Ellis’s door could be heard opening and Miss Bohun at once became quite cheerful.
‘Ah, here you are,’ she said as Mrs Ellis appeared, ‘I always like to get the luncheon over in good time. I never know when one of my pupils may turn up early. They’re so eager, you know, and I don’t think it does to have food on the table when they arrive.’
Mrs Ellis smiled as she sat down, obviously not relating Miss Bohun’s ideas to herself.
Miss Bohun, as she sliced the meat, talked loudly and with a wild gaiety. Felix could not keep his eyes off her. He had never seen her so animated, so – yes, happy. He realised that Miss Bohun was happy. Little pink patches glowed on her cheek-bones; her eyes were not half-shut now but open and shining.
Felix glanced at Mrs Ellis to see if she were as surprised as he was, but Mrs Ellis, staring over his shoulder at the garden behind his head, was obviously far away in her own thoughts. And why, after all, should she be surprised? She did not know Miss Bohun.
As Miss Bohun sliced the meat, her voice rose higher and higher in a sort of exaltation of gaiety: ‘I do hope you’ll be comfortable in my room. It gets the morning sun whic
h I always enjoyed so much, but you must not worry about me. I shall be very happy in the attic. Very happy. The carpenters have done a wonderful job, and – this is important – I shall be nicely tucked away up there. I shall have quiet. I cannot tell you what that means to me! You must realise, when I’m seeking inspiration for my sermons – the voice is so thin, the thread that carries it so very, very thin, and the birth-pangs so terrific, that the slightest sound can disturb it; the slightest jar.’ She touched Mrs Ellis’s arm confidentially causing her to turn in a startled way: ‘I must tell you about that one day.’
‘About what?’ Mrs Ellis asked.
‘My religion. It is something only for chosen spirits, but I shall tell you.’
Felix looked up to see if he were included, but Miss Bohun was looking only at Mrs Ellis. Mrs Ellis, lifting her last scrap of meat to her mouth, murmured a vague interest.
‘Will you have another piece of meat, Mrs Ellis?’ Miss Bohun asked, almost eagerly.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Nor I. I find I am happier and healthier, and my brain is clearer, on vegetables.’ Miss Bohun rang the bell, then noticed Felix: ‘Oh, what about you, Felix? You’re always hungry.’
‘No, thank you.’ Felix had lost his appetite, but Miss Bohun did not notice; she chattered on:
‘Now, don’t forget, Mrs Ellis, I want you to feel free to bring in a guest if you wish. There’s room at the table. I can always poke myself in the corner.’ Mrs Ellis looked up as though startled. ‘I’m just a little wisp of a thing,’ went on Miss Bohun, ‘no flesh on my bones, but you’re a hundred per cent feminine and fully-fashioned. I used to be so sorry for myself being so flat-chested, but now I know things like that don’t matter. I’m very wiry.’
‘Oh!’ Mrs Ellis made no attempt to appear interested. A long silence followed.
Maria had brought in the joint, but it was Frau Leszno who entered to take it away. Apparently she had come with a purpose, for, as she trudged round the table she fixed on the new lodger such an expression of suffering resentment, Mrs Ellis, suddenly seeing it, opened her mouth with surprise. Frau Leszno, going off with the meat dish, seemed satisfied.
‘Is she annoyed about something?’ Mrs Ellis asked.
Miss Bohun nodded darkly: ‘She’s under notice. She goes at the end of the week, but she has nothing to complain about. I’ve found her another position and I’m letting her son remain, although, goodness knows, he does little enough for his keep.’
‘Is that the handsome young man I saw in the yard?’
‘Handsome? I suppose he is handsome, although he hasn’t half his father’s looks. I’ve had to promise to let him have his mother’s room when she goes although it’s Maria’s by rights. Still, Maria is a good creature; she doesn’t complain, and after all, she’s never had much better than she’s got.’
The door opened again; Miss Bohun whispered: ‘This is Maria.’
Maria, coming in with a rice pudding, smiled in a pleasant, motherly way at Mrs Ellis, who smiled back. Miss Bohun seeing this exchange, smiled herself and gave her hands a clap of delight. ‘Isn’t this nice! I’m sure we’re going to be just one big happy family.’
Mrs Ellis looked a little startled, but Miss Bohun did not notice. ‘I know what we’ll do,’ she said in the manner of someone promising a treat to children, ‘to-morrow we’ll all go together and pay the rent.’ This time she did notice Mrs Ellis’s expression, and she explained: ‘Oh, perhaps you think that’s not amusing. Actually, it’s quite an expedition. The landlord is an Imam at the big mosque. I have to go early, when the mosque is open to Christians, and present my salaams and so on. Dear me, I do feel so sorry for landlords; they are not allowed to raise their rents, you know, and rents here are so small. This house, for instance, is controlled at £60 a year. My landlord would be much worse off if I had not voluntarily – voluntarily, mind you! – offered to pay him more.’
‘Oh, do you pay more now?’ exclaimed Felix.
‘Well, not at this very moment – but I’ve written to let him know that next quarter I intend to start paying £65 a year.’
Mrs Ellis yawned so that tears stood in her eyes. She refused coffee, saying she was going to lie down. ‘I could not get a sleeper on the train. The army had all of them,’ she explained as she went upstairs.
Felix when he went up himself could hear no sound of her. Faro was not lying as she usually was in the sunlight on his desk. It was clear to him that Mrs Ellis was not the sort of person to give much time to a schoolboy – or to Miss Bohun either, he was sure – yet for her sake he had upset Faro. Feeling foolish and deserted, he opened his desk. Almost at once he heard Faro jump from a mulberry branch on to the ledge above the door, then come along to his window-sill. Making no move that might discourage her, he pretended to be absorbed in his books. In a moment she was on his knee. He looked down at her and met her steady glance of reconciliation. He slid his hand round her silken neck and she licked him with a tongue as rough as emery paper.
6
At supper Mrs Ellis looked very tired; her pallor had a blue tinge; she wore no lipstick and her lips were as white as her face. She seemed to have nothing to say. Miss Bohun kept glancing at her, but received no answering glance. At the end of the meal Miss Bohun put her hand on Mrs Ellis’s arm and said as though on the spur of the moment: ‘Come up to my room for a chat!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Mrs Ellis, ‘but really I feel too tired to-night.’
Miss Bohun drew in her lips a moment, then said quietly: ‘Oh, I do sympathise. I often get so tired myself – so very tired,’ she broke off, studied Mrs Ellis’s face a moment, then added: ‘Get to bed early and have a nice, long sleep.’
Mrs Ellis shook her head: ‘I don’t sleep very well, but I’ll have a good read.’
‘In bed!’ Miss Bohun clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, dear, what a waste of electricity.’
Mrs Ellis, already on her way upstairs, said nothing but ‘Good-night.’
At breakfast it again seemed she was not going to appear.
‘Dear me,’ said Miss Bohun, ‘I do hope Mrs Ellis won’t make a habit of this. I don’t like to see food wasted – not that it will be wasted, of course.’
At that moment Mrs Ellis could be heard on the stairs and both Miss Bohun and Felix turned to look at her. Felix caught his breath, for now, rested after her journey, there was behind her pallor a glow of energy and health as though a pink globe were lighted within an alabaster vase.
Miss Bohun, her manner abruptly changing, sang out happily: ‘Come along now, we must start early for the mosque.’
‘Oh, yes, the mosque,’ Mrs Ellis sounded at once contrite and offhand. ‘I wish I could come, but I cannot. I have an appointment.’
‘Oh!’ Miss Bohun dropped her eyelids over her eyes, and asked: ‘Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?’
‘I wonder – could I have coffee?’
‘No,’ Miss Bohun spoke rather brusquely; ‘we can’t run to both tea and coffee for breakfast, so I’m afraid it has to be tea.’
Mrs Ellis did not ask why it had to be tea, but a slight frown ruffled for the first time the placidity of her expression. She took the cup of tea as though it were a little distasteful to her. Miss Bohun jumped up, jerking the table as she did so, and said to Felix in a very gay voice: ‘Now, Felix, off we go,’ and Felix, without courage to say he no longer wanted to go, was led off before Mrs Ellis had started to eat her very small piece of breakfast bacon.
It was a brilliant spring morning, but Miss Bohun did not mention it. As soon as they had shut the gate and were in Sulaiman Road, she said: ‘I must say, I’m afraid Mrs Ellis may prove rather a trying person to have in the house. She seems to me a bit of a poseur – you know what I mean – actressy. And those finger-nails! Dear me! I did so hope she would fit in and we’d be just a jolly little family.’ After a reflective pause, she said half to herself: ‘She is an odd girl.’
Felix’s heart thumped in apprehension that th
ese remarks should prove for Mrs Ellis what similar remarks had proved for Mr Jewel, but Miss Bohun made no threats and Felix reflected with relief that Mrs Ellis probably paid much more than Mr Jewel. When they turned into the main road, Miss Bohun, the question of Mrs Ellis apparently forgotten, said in a high, excited tone: ‘Let’s go in by the Damascus Gate. It’s much more fun.’
As they passed through the great medieval gate, around which lay a litter of paper and orange-peel, Felix threw off the first nervousness of his infatuation with Mrs Ellis and began to think the expedition was fun. The covered lane called ‘King Solomon’s Street’, made narrower by the display of fruit, vegetables, and sweetstuffs, and café chairs, was packed with people and donkeys. Almost as soon as they entered, a woman beggar, wrapped in black, touched Miss Bohun’s arm. Miss Bohun, looking at the oval where the face should be and seeing only the stretched black and white patterned veil that made its wearer seem faceless as a leper, cried: ‘Dear me! Poor creature. How disgusting!’ and shook her off.
Miss Bohun had not much to say, but she occasionally and with determination distracted Felix from something that interested him to show him something that did not.
‘There!’ she caught his shoulder as he was watching a sudden flare-up between two Arab tradesmen who, without actually touching one another, were producing all the uproar and excitement of a fight – ‘There!’ she made him face a heap of onions, ‘look at the price of those! Four piastres a kilo and I paid five in the Nablus Road.’
Felix murmured something, but by the time he could look round again at the fight, a third Arab, ostentatiously and with an eye on the audience, had come between the combatants and was making peace.
‘One has to pay so much for food,’ Miss Bohun said. ‘And the English are cheated all the time. Someone like Mrs Ellis, for instance, can have no idea how difficult it is. I am sure she was annoyed because we don’t have coffee for breakfast, but I prefer tea and you prefer tea.’
School for Love Page 10
