Our Spoons Came from Woolworths

by Barbara Comyns

  Rollo shut him in a cupboard where brushes lived. Then we couldn’t open the door to get one to clean the carpet in case he escaped, and he said he would do it when we had gone. I couldn’t help feeling he would be awfully glad when we left him in peace and safety, although he was very charming about all the disgraceful things we had caused to happen.

  He showed me the painting which was almost finished and it was a strong vigorous kind of painting, full of light and colour. I could see he had used his palette knife frequently and it was most effective. I was surprised when he told me he had not done much landscape painting before, but had felt his work was growing dreary and stale and it would do him good to work in the country for a time. He mostly painted portraits and seemed to be quite successful.

  While we were looking at the painting a vase of daffodils on the window-sill upset and the water started to splash on to a lovely old spinet. We looked at the window and there was an awful old brown mat trying to get in. I’d quite forgotten the poodle, and there she was, so I let her in through the door and she ran round welcoming us and caused a great disturbance. Rollo went and got a cloth to dry the spinet. When he had mopped up the water he asked us to stay to tea, but I rather felt we had outstayed our welcome and took the dirty fox out of the cupboard which he’d made a bit smelly and left quite quickly.

  On the way home I let Foxy walk through the long grass to get clean, although I expect they were saving it up for hay. I felt sad; the animals had behaved so badly. Clouds had come in the sky and were going about very fast. They went over the sun so quickly the light was changing all the time and rolling shadows came across the fields and sunlight was sliding about all over the hills. When we came home I went upstairs and sat by the looking glass and looked at myself to see what had happened to my face since I’d been living with the Redheads. In a way it had improved. My skin was very clear and my eyes large and bright; but there were some lines round my mouth and eyes that didn’t use to be there; at least, I couldn’t remember them. My hair was still dark and curly. It only grew as far as my shoulders, so I never had it cut. In my ears were the little gold rings I always wore to stop the holes filling up. My clothes were dull, a washed-out cellular blue shirt, a rust-coloured Shetland jumper with darns on the elbows, and an old tweed skirt I’d made from one of Rose’s cast-offs. I stood regretting very much I wasn’t glamorous. Then I went down and got tea.

  35

  For three days it rained and I spent my spare time making a blue-spotted summer frock with stiff, white muslin, puffed sleeves. I was determined not to wait till May was out before I wore it, because it really suited me very well indeed.

  Sandro hadn’t been able to meet Rollo since the animals disgraced themselves. It had been much too dark and wet for landscape-painting, then as soon as the weather changed he had to return to school; but if Rollo wanted to finish the painting he could always do it on a fine weekend. We had not heard anything about him lately and I began to wonder if he had returned to London already.

  The first of May came and it was so warm and sunny my bedroom was simply stiff with sun as soon as I woke up, and I thought, ‘I’ll wear my new frock this afternoon.’ Everyone seemed to be happy now the sun had come back. May came in to the kitchen and asked me to make a chocolate cake because some people were coming to tea, and I was glad, because since Rose had gone she was too much alone and worked frightfully hard on the farm and had no pleasures at all. This morning she washed her golden hair and let it dry in the sun while she mowed the lawn for the first time that year, and I opened the kitchen window to smell the new-cut grass.

  Mr Redhead came into the kitchen with a great bundle of rhubarb in his arms. He said he wanted me to make it into jam — he was mad on rhubarb jam. I saw my afternoon in the sun disappearing, so I said I couldn’t make it to-day, because we had no lemons in the house, but he said, ‘You must make it to-day while the rhubarb is fresh; it makes all the difference. Let me see, I seem to remember seeing one in the kitchen this morning when I made my early tea,’ and he started looking around. I knew where several lemons were, but I didn’t say anything. He looked towards the dresser, which was usually rather loaded with odds and ends. ‘Ah! there it is,’ and he pounced on a lemon mixed up with the eggs on the rack and put it on the great mound of rhubarb with triumph, and I had to pretend I thought he was awfully clever, although I wanted to throw the lemon at his fussy face and burn the rhubarb on the range. I was glad when I returned to the kitchen after going upstairs to make the beds to see the pile of rhubarb had dwindled away considerably. Auntie was very fond of it.

  Although it was such a warm day I had to cook a great, stuffy lunch of greasy mutton and roast potatoes — even with the window open the kitchen became stifling. Then, after lunch, there was all the sordid washing up to face, and when that was finished there was the wretched jam. I lit the oil stove, because jam always burnt if we made it on the range. It smelt awful; it always did. I prepared the rhubarb and cut it up into small pieces, and put it in the large brass pan, and after a time a great smell of hot jam joined the other smells. I stood over the oil stove, stirring away and every now and then trying it in a saucer to see if it would set. A cuckoo flew over the house and settled in a tree. Then I heard the yard dog barking and saw the cowman fetch the cows from the field and knew it must be milking time and the afternoon nearly over. The door-bell rang and May went and welcomed her friends. There was a lot of talk in the hall and I heard her say, ‘We will have tea in the garden.’ Then there were sounds of deck chairs being taken out. I put the tea-things on a tray. The scones and chocolate cake I’d made that morning looked delicious. I left it all ready for May to fetch. They usually got their own tea. I went back to my jam-stirring. The visitors seemed to be coming into the kitchen to help May carry the tea-things. I felt ashamed for them to see me all hot and sticky; there was even jam on my ears, and I’d cried a bit and gone all blotchy.

  The visitors came into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a girl in a fresh linen dress. I knew her slightly, because she came quite often to the house, usually on a horse, and once she had ridden it right into the kitchen and it had eaten the apples I’d put in a dish all ready to bake, and I had to lead it round the table to get it the right way for going out of the door again. She didn’t have a horse with her, but a man. I didn’t look at him, but when I heard him say, ‘Let me carry that tray, Miss Redhead,’ I knew it was Rollo. When he saw me bent over the disgusting jam, he said, ‘Good afternoon. How are you?’ and the girls seemed surprised he knew me. I hunched myself up and murmured, ‘I’m feeling beastly, thank you,’ and great puffs of jammy steam came in my face. May said, ‘That jam smells as if it’s burning.’ Then they went out of the kitchen. She was quite right. When I emptied the jam into the jars the bottom of the brass pan was all burnt and I had to spend about an hour cleaning it.

  When Sandro came home from school he saw the tea-party on the lawn, and when he recognised Rollo he wanted to climb out of the window to speak to him, but I wouldn’t let him. We had our tea on a tray by the back door. I couldn’t bear to see that tea-party and I felt terribly tired of being a cook.

  After tea I remembered Foxy had not been out all day. He had been shut in the bathroom all the afternoon and had scratched the door rather badly and made a mess. We took him down to the willow brook and Sandro played houses in the split old willow trees. Some were all black inside because they had been struck by lightning, but they were still alive. Foxy skipped around breaking down the tender young nettles, which smelt delightful, and we both forgot we had been prisoners all day.

  The following morning there was a letter for me — a thing which seldom happened. It had a local postmark and was addressed in rather square writing. I didn’t open it for several hours, because I liked to think it was something exciting and knew it would turn into a letter from Sandro’s school saying he must bring a pair of slippers to school if I opened it; but as long as it remained unopened it could be an inv
itation to a dance or a letter from an unknown admirer or something impossible. When I opened the letter it didn’t turn into something dreary, after all. It was a heavenly note from Rollo asking me which evening I would be free to have dinner with him at Bentley Hall — a hotel about four miles away.

  Bentley Hall was really a kind of road-house on the golf course, very bogus and imitation antique, but the only place of that sort for miles. Rose used to go there quite often and I used to envy her, and when I had to pass that way I always walked slowly to see all the rich, care-free people coming in and out. They had beautiful cars and trimmed poodles, and they always seemed to be young and good-looking; but once I heard two elegant people sitting in an open cream car talking, and the man was moaning about his overdraft and the woman seemed pretty miserable, too, and I was almost glad. Now I was going to go there, too. I wondered how we would get there, because Rollo didn’t appear to have a car.

  I asked May which evening I could have free, and she seemed quite startled, but said I could have the following Friday, so I wrote to Rollo and said I would be free on Friday evening. I looked at my clothes, and the only fresh-looking dress was the spotted one; but it didn’t look the sort of thing they would wear at Bentley Hall. In my tin cash-box there was eleven pounds seven and six. It had taken me three years to save that in case I got the sack and we had nowhere to go. I became overcome with temptation, and the next day caught the bus to Bedford. I had to do it in the afternoon and would only get about an hour there, but I knew exactly what I wanted. In that hour I found just the kind of dress I was looking for. It was real silk and had a most elegantly shaped bodice and a pleated skirt. It cost nine guineas. There was just enough money left to buy a pair of delicate sandals and some real silk stockings, so I bought them at a shop nearby. Then it was time to catch my bus home. I felt rather shy of bumping into the Redheads with my grand looking parcels. I managed to get into the house without meeting them and found Sandro sadly waiting for his tea in the kitchen. I felt very guilty when I saw him and remembered I’d spent all our money and hadn’t even bought him a toy, so I gave him a shilling to buy some sweets with; but I still felt guilty and could see ruin staring us in the face, but that wore off when it was time to go to bed and I went upstairs and tried all my new clothes on and the frock fitted perfectly, and the sandals were so light and dainty; even in the speckled, old looking glass I looked almost beautiful and I was glad I’d spent all our money.

  36

  Rollo ’phoned on Friday morning to say he would fetch me at seven o’clock. I was glad I’d answered the ’phone myself because I was shy for the Redheads to know I was having dinner with Rollo. I knew May would be so surprised if she knew.

  It was a heavenly day and I kept running outside to make sure there weren’t any clouds. If it was raining or cold, my new clothes would look so unsuitable. I knew it was dangerous to be too happy, because something always goes wrong, but I just couldn’t help being happy that day. I even felt I loved Auntie, and let her drink a bottle of Mr Redhead’s beer at lunch.

  In the afternoon I went to the woods with Foxy and lay in the sun, which came in an opening between the trees. Through my half-closed eyes I watched Foxy playing and digging small holes. A large fly came on my leg. I saw it had strange red eyes and a blue body. I’d always thought they were black before, but now I knew they were quite beautiful.

  The dreamy, happy day passed and at last it was time to put Sandro to bed, and then it was time to put on my new clothes. I had a bath and dressed very slowly, and before I put my dress on I gave my hair a great brushing. At last I was ready, and I felt so pleased with my reflection I just stood in front of the looking glass. It was the first time I’d worn a really lovely dress.

  Just as I was rolling a lipstick and powder-puff in a hanky so that I needn’t take my shabby bag with me, I heard May calling. I ran downstairs and when I reached the kitchen there was May coming in, still calling me. She looked rather red and put out. She said, ‘There is a friend of yours in the drawing-room.’ She gave a bewildered glance at my clothes, but before she could say anything else I hurried away. I felt scared to go into the drawing-room. I could hear Rollo and Mr Redhead talking. Mr Redhead would wonder what on earth I was doing, marching into the drawing-room and snaffling his guest away. When I put my nose round the door they were drinking sherry. Then Mr Redhead said, ‘Yes, Mrs Fairclough, what do you want?’ So Rollo explained I was having dinner with him, but it took some time for Mr Redhead to understand. Then he said, ‘Why go out to dinner? Stay here. I’m sure my daughter would be delighted to have you. She is lonely since Rose married.’ I felt pretty awful. It would have been so lovely if I’d been given a glass of sherry and Mr Redhead had forgotten I was a cook for a few minutes. But eventually Rollo got me out of the house and into the car, which he said he had borrowed from the girl friend who had a horse. I would have rather walked than used her car and I began to feel, ‘All this is the result of being too happy all day.’ Rollo talked away in his delightful voice, but I said nothing. I felt everything was going to be a disappointment, and hadn’t the heart to talk.

  When we reached Bentley Hall there were masses of cars outside and I began to feel more cheerful. We went inside and sat in a large lounge with beams and stags’ heads all over the place; but it was very comfortable and there were bowls and bowls of tulips all around. A waiter brought some cocktails. I wasn’t sure if you eat the cherry or not — it was such a long time since I’d had one. Rollo ate his, so I did, too. I became happy again, but was too shy to say much. I just listened to Rollo talking, and sometimes asked him questions.

  I asked how he had discovered this village, and he said the people who lent him the car this evening were old friends of his and had taken the cottage by the church for him. I was happy to hear him say he expected to be there for at least another month. I couldn’t bear to think of him going away for ever. He told me his father was an architect; at least, had been one until recently. He was dead now, and his mother was dead, too. He told me about his father’s house in St John’s Wood. It was rather large and had a garden full of apple and pear trees and flowering cherry trees, too. It was beautiful in the spring with all the blossom, not like being in London at all. He didn’t live in the house himself, because he already had a studio, but was thinking of letting it furnished until he had made up his mind what to do with it. He thought there were toy railways and all kinds of things in one of the attics that he had when he was a boy and he promised he would hunt them out and give them to Sandro.

  Then we went into the dining-room and had a heavenly dinner, the first time I had eaten a meal that I hadn’t cooked myself for over three years. We drank wine and I began to talk. I didn’t feel shy any more and an awful lot of words came pouring out. I told him about my married life with Charles and a little about Peregrine — but I didn’t mention Fanny; and I told him about Ann and my brother, and our life in the country when my parents were alive, and the batty old governesses we used to have before we went to boarding-school, and the three deaf white cats I used to have — they all had odd eyes, one yellow and one blue — and about my father eating a wasp in the jam when we were having tea in the garden under the trees, and how he swallowed the wasp and it stung him as it went down and he was dead in twenty-four hours. I told him a lot of things and he seemed to be interested. It was such a relief to talk to a real person, not just the people I worked for. I was always afraid of upsetting them and making them think I wasn’t a suitable person to have in the house.

  We went back to the lounge and stags and coffee. Everyone looked at us when we came into the room, because Rollo was so tall and handsome, and I felt so proud to be with such a distinguished man. He was wearing a beautiful silver-grey suit with rather high lapels, and it suited him well. While we were having coffee, Rollo said he had met Charles about a year ago and had actually visited his studio. He said he thought his paintings very good, but they varied a lot. He was always trying new methods of pain
ting and destroying his previous work. He believed he had gone to live in Paris now; but what really interested me was that he said Charles had a prehistoric-looking object in a bowl of water and it sounded as if he had kept Great Warty all these years and my heart quite warmed to Charles.

  After our coffee we walked in the gardens, which looked more interesting than they really were in the half light. There were still people bathing, and their voices echoed and were strange. There was an early owl sitting on a fence. We walked carefully until we could almost touch it; it was still too light for it to be able to see us, and we looked into its puss-like face before it flew away on moth wings. We went to the bathing-pool. Someone had recently dived and the board was still quivering. The bathers looked queerly beautiful in the dim light and dark water, but made us feel cold, so we wandered back to the garden, and Rollo held my arm and I was glad my dress had short sleeves so that I could feel his hand against my arm.

  It was time to go home, because the Redheads always went to bed early and I would have to ring the bell and bring Mr Redhead down in his nightshirt if I was late. So Rollo drove me home and we were back so soon, but the house was all locked up. Rollo tried all the doors with me. None of them would open. He wanted to ring the bell, but I was terrified of the idea of Mr Redhead snarling in his nightshirt. We went to the back of the house again. Then I remembered there were some ladders in the yard and we fetched one and it just reached my window, and I started to go up the ladder, but Rollo called me down. He said he wanted to paint a portrait of me and could I start sitting for it to-morrow, and I said I would come to the cottage to-morrow afternoon. Then he kissed me good night and I don’t know how I got up the ladder after that, but I did, and he took it and put it back in the yard, and the Redheads knew nothing about it.