“What are you thinking of, Elfrida Jane?” asked Ronnie after a protracted silence.
“I was thinking how queer it is the way Time gets jumbled about.”
Ronnie understood at once. One of the nice things about him was his “understandingness”; there was no need to arrange your thoughts before uttering them aloud. “Yes,” said Ronnie. “Something that happened months ago seems like yesterday.”
“It’s the other way round with me,” she told him. “Something that happened ten days ago seems as if it had happened last year.”
He looked at her and saw that her face was very thoughtful; he would have given a great deal to know her thoughts. Perhaps if he told her what he had been thinking it would encourage her to speak. “It seems only yesterday—or at the most last week—that we came to Mountain Cross together,” said Ronnie. “I remember everything we said and did so clearly that I can scarcely believe it’s three whole months . . . and yet, when I first arrived here on Saturday and saw you on the beach, I felt as if I hadn’t seen you for years. That’s a jumble if you like!”
“Yes,” said Elfrida, but still she did not tell him her thoughts.
“You haven’t been lonely here, have you?” asked Ronnie.
“Not a bit,” she replied. “There’s so much to do that I haven’t time to feel lonely . . . and even if I hadn’t a lot to do I don’t believe I should feel lonely at Mountain Cross. It gives me a warm, safe feeling.”
Ronnie nodded. “I’ve felt it, too—that warm, safe feeling. You don’t get that feeling in a modern house, like Mother’s villa, because contemporary houses have been built by men who were paid by the hour; they knocked off work when the clock struck and went home and took their wives to the pictures and forgot all about the job until next morning. Mountain Cross wasn’t built like that. The men who built it were interested in the job and proud of it, they put their best work into it.”
Elfrida nodded.
“The family who lived in the house loved it,” continued Ronnie. “Their children were born in the house and grew up and ran about the place and got to know every yard of it, so when in time it came into their possession it was dear and familiar.”
“It has always been a home,” said Elfrida.
“Yes, for hundreds of years. That’s what makes Mountain Cross feel warm and safe.”
“It’s a warm, safe home to me; I feel as if I had lived here all my life,” said Elfrida. She added, “Sometimes I’m quite frightened, when I think of the chances that brought me here.”
Ronnie wanted to know about the “chances” so she told him: it was chance that Miss Martineau had happened to see the advertisement and had persuaded Elfrida to go and see Mr. Sandford; it was chance that she had met him at the bottom of the steps when she was hesitating whether or not to go in; it was chance that Glen had failed to ring her up until she had left Miss Martineau’s. Any of these curious little chances, had they happened differently, might have prevented Elfrida from coming to Mountain Cross.
“It’s quite frightening, isn’t it?” added Elfrida.
“Yes, if you think of it in that way.”
“What other way is there?”
“Perhaps you were meant to come to Mountain Cross.”
“Oh, yes!” she cried. “That’s a much nicer idea! Thank you, Ronnie.”
There was quite a long silence. Obviously Elfrida Jane was thinking about the “much nicer idea” so the author of the idea did not disturb her.
Presently she said, “You’re right, of course. Unless we believe that there’s some Power with a Great Purpose behind everything, life doesn’t make sense and we’re all floundering about in the dark; that’s a dreadful thought.”
“But you didn’t really think it, did you?”
“Not really,” she replied doubtfully. “I’m afraid my brain is rather a rag-bag. I must try to think more clearly, especially now that I’ve been given such a big responsibility.”
“You mean Patrick, of course.”
“Yes, God has given him to me to take care of. I do feel that very strongly. I shall do my best to take care of him and make him happy.”
“I shouldn’t worry too much; he needs love, that’s all, and you’re giving him love.”
She nodded, “I’ve become very, very fond of Patrick.”
“You’ll be sorry to part with him when his father wants him back.”
“He won’t,” said Elfrida without hesitation.
“Won’t want him back!” exclaimed Ronnie incredulously. “I can scarcely believe a man wouldn’t want his son—even a man like Siddons. I thought he had just dumped the child on you temporarily because he had nowhere else to leave him.”
“I thought so at first,” admitted Elfrida. “I thought Glen had just gone off suddenly, because . . . because he was upset about something; but now that I’ve had time to think about it I’ve come to the conclusion that it was all a well-thought-out plan. When he discovered that Mrs. Landor wouldn’t keep Patrick any longer Glen remembered that I lived at Mountain Cross and came here with the deliberate intention of leaving the child with me.”
“Good heavens, what makes you think that?”
“I don’t know,” she said vaguely. “It’s just when I look back and remember some of the things he said . . . and did. I may be quite wrong, of course. You can’t tell with Glen, because he isn’t real.”
“Isn’t real?”
“Nothing he says or does is real,” explained Elfrida.
Ronnie was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “All the same I can’t understand how a man could abandon his son.”
“Of course you can’t,” declared Elfrida, turning her head and smiling at Ronnie. “You could never understand Glen Siddons because you’re absolutely different in every way.”
“I’m real?” asked Ronnie. This seemed the logical conclusion.
“You’re real,” agreed Elfrida. She hesitated and then added, “I want you to understand that I’ve got Patrick ‘for keeps’.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Perfectly certain. You see, Patrick is a nuisance to Glen. Poor Patrick has been a nuisance to everyone all his life . . . but the little ship has come safely into harbour.”
“A nice, warm, comfortable harbour,” said Ronnie smiling at her. He added, “Lucky little Patrick.”
*
34
Patrick and Elfrida were standing at the door, saying good-bye to Ronnie; he had expressed his thanks to his hostess and was in his car, ready to start, but he lingered, putting off the evil moment.
“I really must go,” said Ronnie at last.
“Come back soon,” said his hostess hospitably.
“Junior partners are supposed to work for their livings.”
“Don’t junior partners ever get proper holidays?”
“They have to take their holidays when it suits their seniors. As a matter of fact Uncle Bob said I could have ten days next month . . . but I don’t want to sponge on you, Elfrida Jane.”
“Sponge is a horrid word!”
“It’s a horrid word for a horrid thing.”
“It isn’t a word to be used between friends,” she told him. “You like Mountain Cross, don’t you? So if you have nothing better to do just let me know.”
“Mother is going to Nice with a party, so perhaps——”
“That would be fun for you!”
“It wouldn’t be fun,” replied Ronnie. “I was going to tell you that Mother is going to Nice with a party, so perhaps I needn’t go with her. You see, Mother doesn’t like travelling alone but if she’s with a party she’ll be quite happy. I’d much rather come to Mountain Cross if you’re sure I wouldn’t be a nuisance.”
“Come,” said Elfrida, nodding.
“I’ll come,” declared Ronnie. “I’ll get out of the party somehow. Good-bye, Elfrida Jane . . . and thank you again.”
“Good-bye, Ronnie. Take care of yourself and don’t drive too fast.”
“Make the Wisp go like the wind!” cried Patrick.
Ronnie smiled and let in the clutch.
The car had begun to move off down the avenue when Chowne came running round the corner of the house with a parcel under his arm. He shouted to Ronnie to stop and opening the left-hand door of the car put the parcel on the passenger’s seat.
“What is it, Chowne?” asked Ronnie.
Chowne pointed to the parcel.
“Oh, yes, I see,” nodded Ronnie.
Chowne took Ronnie’s left hand and placed it upon the parcel.
“All right! I’ll give it to him safely. Stand back, Chowne, I’m off!”
Elfrida had seen the parcel put into the car and was smiling to herself; obviously Ronnie had forgotten to pack some of his belongings . . . it was just as well Emma had found it, whatever it was, and had sent Chowne after him!
She watched the little car speed down the avenue and turn the corner, throwing up a spurt of gravel. Ronnie’s hand was waving out of the window . . . he shouldn’t do that, it wasn’t safe!
“He’ll come back, won’t he?” asked Patrick anxiously.
“I expect so, when he gets his holiday,” she replied.
“He said ‘next month.’ That’s a long time, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s a long time,” said Elfrida.
*
Soon after Ronnie’s departure Lucius arrived in his car with the lily roots and Elfrida helped him to carry them down to the garden. She wanted to speak to Lucius in private so she had taken Emma into her confidence and Emma had agreed to “keep Pat out of the way.” This was a necessary precaution for Patrick followed Elfrida everywhere she went.
“Oh, you’ve cleaned out the pool!” exclaimed Lucius. “Why didn’t you wait for me to help you?”
“Ronnie Leighton helped me. He was here for the weekend; I wish you could have met him. We must arrange it next time he comes.”
“I think you said he was Mr. Sandford’s partner.”
“Yes, he was here on business,” explained Elfrida. She added, “I expect you heard I’ve got little Patrick Siddons staying with me.”
“Oh, yes, we heard,” admitted Lucius with a smile. “But it wasn’t the fish-boy this time. Mary heard about it at the Women’s Institute.”
“What were they saying?”
“They were saying that Glen Siddons is acting in a film in America and left his child with you.”
“Was that all, Lucius? I’d rather know the worst.”
“Not quite all,” replied Lucius uncomfortably. “They had a wild story that he left here in the middle of the night without troubling to say good-bye. Mary didn’t believe it; she said I was to ask you——”
“It’s true,” interrupted Elfrida. “There isn’t any point in denying it.”
“He must be mad!”
“Actors are rather temperamental,” explained Elfrida, without much conviction.
“It’s a curious world, isn’t it?” said Lucius. “I’ve sometimes thought it should be divided into two parts. People who are ‘temperamental’ have bad tempers and are slightly ‘mental’.” He added, “You worry too much about what people say. The grape-vine flourishes in country places; if you want to keep a secret you must live in a large town where your neighbours aren’t interested in you.”
“It isn’t exactly a secret; it’s because I don’t like the feeling that people are talking about me. I suppose I shall get used to it in time.”
“Yes, of course you will! What are you going to do with the child?”
“I shall keep him with me. Poor Patrick has had a very miserable life . . . and he’s perfectly happy here. He’s a dear little boy and a good companion; the Chownes will help me to look after him.”
“That sounds a good arrangement. You must bring him over to see us; Mary and I are very fond of children.”
“Yes, I’d like to bring him one day.”
“We must fix it up,” said Lucius, nodding. “By the way, Elfrida, you remember I told you about that man in the village who could come and repair your greenhouse? He’s out of a job at the moment, so——”
“I can’t afford it,” said Elfrida frankly.
“Oh, we’re all as poor as church-mice nowadays. The taxes are penal! But all the same it’s a pity to let things go to rack and ruin. The man I told you about wouldn’t charge very much to put your greenhouse in order . . . and there’s another thing, Elfrida. I really think you should get a little car; it would be useful to you, wouldn’t it? Chowne is good with cars, he could easily teach you to drive. You’re terribly isolated here without any means of transport. It wouldn’t be an extravagance,” added Lucius earnestly.
“I really can’t afford it,” she told him. “I simply haven’t the money to buy a car. I’m living from hand to mouth.”
“You’re living from hand to mouth?”
“Yes, literally,” replied Elfrida, nodding. “I don’t know how much income I shall have until Grandmother’s affairs have been settled; Mr. Sandford told me it wouldn’t be much.”
“But the Wares were very well off!”
“They must have lost money, somehow or other. Mr. Sandford said they were spending capital . . . and nearly all the fields belonging to Mountain Cross have been sold.”
“What!” exclaimed Lucius in dismay. “I can’t believe it! Elfrida, are you sure the fields have been sold? I mean are you sure they haven’t just been let for grazing?”
“No, they’ve been sold.”
“It’s incredible,” he declared. “Old Roger Ware was quite crazy about Mountain Cross; he loved every stone of the house and every yard of the land! His family has been here for generations and he regarded the place as a sacred trust. He often spoke to me about it. I should have said he was the last man on earth to whittle away his property . . . and, quite apart from sentiment, you can’t run a farm and make it pay without good fields.”
“I know,” said Elfrida sadly.
“What are you going to do?”
Elfrida did not reply. She had wanted to explain her financial position to Lucius because she was finding things rather difficult. She was unable to subscribe to local charities; she could not hire men to put the garden in order; she could not afford to run a car, nor to make any return for the hospitality of her friends. Everyone complained of being badly off (Elfrida had heard one of her neighbours announce that she was “penniless”); but despite their lamentable condition they all had cars and most of them went abroad for their holidays.
“What are you going to do?” repeated Lucius. “You can’t live here on half nothing.”
Elfrida smiled at his worried face. “I can live quite comfortably on very little. I’m not complaining, Lucius; I just wanted you and Mary to know about it. That’s why I’ve told you. Things are a bit difficult, you see. For instance the other day when Mary was collecting for the Red Cross I could see she was surprised when I gave her five shillings. I don’t want people to think I’m mean.”
“Nobody thinks that,” declared Lucius hastily. “Mary just thought it was all you had at the moment.”
“It was all I had,” admitted Elfrida. “I’ve got some more money now—just a little to go on with—from Mr. Sandford, but most of it will be used to pay the butcher’s bill.”
“I could easily lend you some money.”
“It’s very kind of you but I don’t want to get into debt. I can just make ends meet if I’m careful.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t see how you’re going to manage.”
“Don’t worry about me; I’m quite happy,” she told him.
It was no good saying any more . . . but Lucius continued to look thoughtful and worried as he unpacked the small hamper which contained the lilies. He had planted the roots in wicker baskets and already they had begun to sprout.
“I’ve found this the most satisfactory way of growing them,
” explained Lucius as he bedded down the baskets in the mud at the bottom of the pond. “It gives the lilies a solid bed and the roots aren’t disturbed when the pool is filled with water. Would you like some goldfish, Elfrida? I could get some for you at the pet-shop in Cherleigh.”
“Thank you, Lucius, but I don’t think I want goldfish,” she replied. She had a feeling that Lucius would not approve of frogs so she did not mention Mr. Jeremy Fisher.
*
Thursday was very wet; Elfrida was quite pleased to see the rain for everything in the garden had been dried up by the hot sun. She spent the day polishing furniture, a task which she enjoyed. To-day, however, it seemed less enjoyable than usual and she found herself sitting, duster in hand, and not getting on with the work. The house was very quiet.
At tea-time Patrick asked if he might go out.
“It’s still raining,” said Elfrida. “I don’t think——”
“But not very hard! You said the rain would make things grow, didn’t you? I can put on my waterproof and my rubber boots. If I do that it will be all right, won’t it?”
“You mustn’t go near the cliff.”
“No, just up to the wood.”
He looked so eager that she agreed. He had been indoors all day; it was boring for him.
Elfrida saw him off at the door. As she turned back into the house the telephone bell rang so she went into the dining-room and lifted the receiver.
A voice said, “Is that you, Elfrida Jane?”
“Ronnie!” she exclaimed in surprise. She was surprised for several reasons: this was “office hours” and Ronnie never rang her up from the office except on business . . . and if he were ringing up from the office he would not call her Elfrida Jane. All this went through her mind in a moment and there was scarcely a pause before she added, “Is something the matter?”
“Something the matter?”
“I wondered if you were ringing up from the office.”
“Oh, I see what you mean! I’m ringing up from Uncle Bob’s room; he’s talking to Mr. Riggs. Could you bear to see me to-morrow?”
The House on the Cliff Page 22
