Hungry Hill

by Daphne Du Maurier

  BOOK FIVE

  Hal, 1874–1895

  THE BEST PART ABOUT ETON, thought Hal, was that they left you alone, You could scrape along through your day, doing a minimum of work, and nobody bothered very much whether you lived or died. There were numberless rules and regulations, of course, and certain hours when you had to be in certain places, but in spite of these things there was a freedom that made for contentment.

  He could walk about alone, and no one would ask him what he was doing or where he was going. And he had a room to himself. That, perhaps, was the best of all. One or two of his own pictures hung upon the wall, signed with his initials in the corner, H. E. L.

  B. One of the fellows asked who had painted them, and he lied instantly, saying they had been painted by an uncle who had died. Somehow, he did not feel the paintings were good enough to acknowledge as his own. But when he was in the room alone, at night, he would take his candle and look at them closely with secret pride. They were his creation, the things he had made with his hands, and because he had made them himself he loved them. One day he would make paintings which he could show to everyone, but until that day came it was best to conceal what he did, in case people laughed and did not understand.

  Mamma had never laughed. She had always understood.

  And now that she was not with him any more he wanted his father to take her place, so that whatever he achieved might be an offering to him, a pride and a delight. And he would have the certainty of never failing because his father would have faith in him. The trouble was that he felt shy of his father. They might sit in the drawing-room of the London house together and neither speak a word, father reading the Times, and Hal staring at his boots. And when his father did speak it would be in a jovial, hearty manner, the manner grown-up people so often assumed to boys in the same way that they did to dogs. It was like the way a person patted a dog's coat and said "Good fellow," and then forgot him the moment afterwards. Sometimes his father would say, "Well, Hal, how's the painting?", making an effort to be interested, but because the effort was obvious and the question a hopeless one to answer, Hal would say, "All right, thank you," and then fall once more to silence, feeling gauche and dull.

  His father would wait a few minutes, expecting Hal to enlarge upon the subject, and then when nothing happened he would pick up his paper again, or talk about something else to the girls.

  The mid-term break, or long leave as they called it, came early in March, and would coincide with his father's return from France. He had been away from England nearly two months.

  "Father's coming home tonight," said Molly, who with Miss Frost, and Kitty, and the small Lizette, met Hal at the station, "and he's bringing someone with him, but he won't say who. All very mysterious. Even Miss Frost doesn't know.

  I think it's Grannie, but Frostie says it can't be, as father said in his last letter that she was ill."

  "Whoever it is must be very important," said Kitty, "because he or she is to have the large room next to father's. I wish it could be Uncle Tom or Aunt Harriet. It's such ages since we saw them last."

  "At any rate, I hope the creature won't stay long," said Molly, "as we shall have to make polite conversation at lunch and dinner. Hal, you have grown. You will have to wear tails. And you're thinner than ever."

  "It's because I haven't got Frostie to make me swallow apple dumplings," smiled Hal.

  "No one at Eton bothers whether you eat."

  "Perhaps not, but I don't suppose you hide the dumplings in your mouth and spit them out in the passage afterwards, as you do at home," said Miss Frost.

  "You have to behave yourself at Eton."

  "Indeed I don't. I do exactly as I please," said Hal.

  When they arrived at Lancaster Gate he paid for the cab in lordly fashion, although Miss Frost had the money ready in her purse.

  "Nonsense, Frostie," he said. "I'm not a child any longer."

  And he shouldered his suit-case and took it upstairs, aware, now that he was back again, that seven weeks at Eton had changed him In some indescribable fashion. He felt older, more responsible, and the girls too looked at him with new eyes, as though he had become someone of importance. They followed him to his room when he unpacked, little Lizette dragging one foot after the other.

  He had painted the head of a cat for her, which she seized with shrieks of delight, and there were sketches too for Molly and Kitty, one of his house, and one of the river.

  "Have you done anything for father?" asked Molly.

  Hal hesitated a moment, and then took a small parcel from the bottom of the suit-case.

  "You know the photograph I have of mamma's portrait?" he said The girls nodded.

  "Well, I borrowed a magnifying glass from one of the fellows, and I've made a miniature from the head," he said. "Of course, it's not a patch on the original painting, but it's better than nothing."

  He unwrapped the paper and handed a small round frame to his sisters.

  "I found the frame in a shop in Eton," he said, "and it just fitted." Katherine's face looked upon her daughters; the dark hair, with the low knot in the nape of her neck, the grave, quiet eyes.

  "You see," said Hal, "I've often thought how dreadful it must be for father having the portrait at Clonmere, and never seeing it. If he has this it might make up for it in a small way."

  The girls considered it in silence.

  "It's very good," said Molly; "it's better than the photograph you have."

  "Do you really think so?" said Hal. "Will he be pleased?"

  "I wish it were mine," said Kitty. "I only have a wretched photograph that I don't like a bit."

  "Let me see mamma," said Lizette, and Molly took her on her knee and showed her the miniature.

  "It's dreadful that she never knew mamma," said Kitty. "It's like being told about someone in a story that isn't really true. Put it down, Lizette; you mustn't spoil it. Can we show it to Frostie?"

  "No," said Hal suddenly, "no, let's shut it up again. I don't know whether I shall give it to father or not."

  The miniature, now that he had looked at it again, had become more intimate, more personal, something very precious that he did sot want people to touch.

  They all had lunch upstairs in the schoolroom, and in the after noon went to Madame Tussaud's exhibition, going to the Marylebone Road in an omnibus, and returning home in time for tea.

  "We'll have tea in the dining-room," said Molly, "and give father a real welcome. It's a nuisance about the visitor, but it can't be helped."

  "I think," said Miss Frost, "I will have mine upstairs with nurse and Lizette. Your father will want you to himself."

  "Oh, Frostie, you're a coward," laughed Hal, "you don't want to put on company manners before a stranger. Don't be afraid, I'll look after you."

  But Miss Frost was firm. And at five o'clock Molly, Hal, and Kitty assembled by themselves in the drawing-room. Hal kept fingering the little parcel in his pocket. He could not make up his mind whether to give it to his father or not. He felt nervous and excited in turn. He wished that he too could be having tea upstairs with Frostie, Lizette, and the nurse. His father would question him about Eton, in front of this visitor, and he knew he would make the wrong sort of answers.

  "Here's the brougham," said Kitty, who had been gazing out of the window, "and a cab following as well, simply heaped with trunks. Surely father only took one and his hold-all, when he went to stay with Grannie?"

  "They must belong to the visitor," said Molly, looking over her shoulder. "Where on earth shall we put them all? Hal, don't run away. And do try to speak at tea, and don't look as if you have toothache… Father darling."

  She flung open the front door and ran down the steps to greet him, followed by Kitty. Hal hung back, his hands in his pockets. He was not sure whether his father would kiss him or not, now that he was at Eton. A smart-looking woman was getting out of the brougham, and shaking hands with the girls. She had a black hat with wings in it. A stranger, no one that they knew.
His heart sank a little. Somehow he had hoped that it might have been Uncle Tom from Doon-haven… He came forward slowly, smiling at his father, and without thinking held up his face to be kissed.

  "Where are your manners?" said Henry, seizing him by the shoulders, and turning him round. "Don't you know the rule ladies first? This is Hal, Adeline.

  You need a hair-cut, old boy. One of you send the servants to deal with this luggage. We both of us want our tea."

  They turned and went up the steps, the visitor talking briskly to his father. She seemed to know him very well. Hal made a face at Kitty behind his back. More than ever he wished he was having tea in the schoolroom. There was much talk and bustle and argument about the luggage. The visitor pointed to the things that she wanted upstairs.

  "The rest can go in the box-room," she was saying.

  "I shan't need the two large trunks, they're full of summer things."

  The housemaid, rather red in the face, was bending over a hold-all packed with walking-sticks and umbrellas.

  "I'll show you everything after tea," said Henry, "and if there's anything you don't like we'll have it changed. What about you children? Are you having tea upstairs?"

  "No," said Molly swiftly, "we've got it in the dining-room, with you. The silver tea-set and everything."

  Henry laughed, and glanced across at the visitor.

  "Very appropriate welcome," he said. "Come and sit down."

  The visitor was glancing at the pictures on the wall in a critical way.

  "You didn't tell me you admired the Italian primitives, Henry," she said. "Those languid Madonnas. I can't bear 'em. They always look as if they need a plate of roast beef and a jolly good walk, to put some life into them."

  Henry laughed. He seemed to laugh at whatever the visitor said. And to the astonishment of all of them the visitor went and sat in Molly's place at the end of the table, in front of the silver tea-set.

  Molly went scarlet, and Hal turned away because it hurt him to see his sister distressed. He knew how she had looked forward to pouring out and playing hostess. He sat down and stared hard at his plate. His father did not seem to notice that anything was wrong, and the visitor began to pour out the tea.

  "Well, what have you all been doing?" said Henry. "French, German, dancing classes, music, all the usual things? You wouldn't believe, Adeline, what I spend on these girls' education."

  "Let's hope they will make use of it," said the visitor, and turning to Kitty, she asked her a question in French.

  Now it was Kitty's turn to be embarrassed.

  She flashed a glance of appeal at Molly.

  "I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't understand."

  The visitor laughed.

  "I thought you told me they were fluent," she said to Henry. "I'm afraid you were boasting. Are you going to pass me a scone, Hal, or do you want to eat them all yourself?"

  Her eyes were bright and blue, and she smiled, showing white teeth. Hal mumbled an apology, and pushed the plate across the table.

  "Dreaming as usual," said his father. "I tell you what it is, Adeline, the boy is studying your face, in order to paint your portrait. I've told you he was the artistic member of the family."

  Hal felt the colour mount into his face. It was coming, the conversation he dreaded, baiting him with questions.

  "I had a brother who painted as a small boy," said the visitor, "but he forgot all about it when he went to school. You don't have much time for that sort of thing at Eton, do you, Hal?"

  "Yes, he does," said Kitty impulsively; "he's done two lovely pictures for Molly and me, and something very special for father."

  "Has he, by gosh?" said Henry. "Come on, Hal, what is it?"

  "It's nothing," said Hal, "it's not good enough.

  I don't think you'd like it."

  Nervously he jerked his tea-cup, and the tea spilt over the tablecloth, spreading over the white surface.

  "Quick, a plate, Molly," said the visitor, "or it will stain the mahogany. Call one of the servants for a cloth. What a mess! If you want to be an artist, Hal, you'll have to have a steadier hand than that."

  Hal stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do, hating her and hating his own clumsiness.

  "All right, sit down," said his father impatiently. "Don't stand gaping, like a dazed sheep. Tell me about Eton. Who are your friends?"

  "I haven't any," said Hal desperately.

  "Oh, come," said Henry, "you must know some of the fellows in the house."

  At last Hal admitted that there was someone called Brown he rather liked.

  "Brown? What Brown? I don't remember anyone of that name in my time. What does he do?

  What are his games?"

  "I don't think he does anything."

  "Sounds an interesting fellow," said Henry.

  "Come on, tell us some more."

  The visitor was laughing, and winking at his father across the table. Hal dug his nails into his hands. It was no use. He would not answer any more questions.

  "I'm afraid my family are not showing off as well as I hoped," said Henry. "Molly looks sulky, Kitty can't speak a word of French, and my son and heir spills his tea all over the table-cloth and can give no account of his first half at Eton except that he admires a boy named Brown who possesses no accomplishments.

  Adeline, I grovel. I take back all I told you in Nice."

  The children stared at their plates. This jocular, joking manner of their father's was embarrassing. Why did he have to be so in with this person called Adeline, who stared at each one of them with critical blue eyes, and did not like the Italian pictures on the walls?

  Then the door opened, and Lizette came into the room, changed into a white frock for the occasion, her hair tied with two white bows. She was shy. She stood by the door, a finger in her mouth.

  "Well, baby, what's wrong? I shan't bite you," said the visitor.

  Lizette looked at Kitty. Nobody in the house ever called her baby.

  "She generally has a piece of sugar at tea-time," said Molly. "Come here, darling.

  Molly will give you one."

  The child limped to the table. Hal saw the visitor gaze with curiosity at the heavy foot, in its high boot.

  "She ought to do special exercises," she said to Henry. "I knew of someone who was lame from birth, and it worked wonders. But you have to keep at it.

  Special exercises, for an hour a day, supervised by a trained expert. I'll find out about it."

  Lizette stared at the stranger, as she ate her sugar. She knew her foot was being discussed, and she did not like it.

  "Will the lady go soon?" she said to Molly.

  Everyone pretended not to hear. Molly bent down and whispered in her ear.

  Hal, still staring at his plate, wondered if his father was looking at Lizette in the strange, regretful, half-shamefaced fashion that he sometimes did. Hal knew now that if Lizette had not been born his mother would not have died. But this was something that he did not care to think about. People having children was an uncomfortable subject, especially when it was to do with one's own father, one's own mother…

  The visitor was getting up, and pushing back her chair.

  "Now what about inspecting the house?" she said briskly.

  "Where do you want to start?" smiled Henry.

  "The most important place of all, the kitchen," she answered.

  Molly hesitated, and glanced at her father.

  "I don't think they will have finished tea," she said; "we never do invade the basement at this time of day. I'm afraid Mrs. Lester might not like it."

  "Mrs. Lester will have to put up with it," said Henry. "Go ahead, Adeline, you take command from now on. I wash my hands of everything."

  He laughed, as though it were a great joke.

  "While you are in the kitchen I had better go and pay my respects to Miss Frost and the nurse, and break the news," he added.

  He ran up the stairs whistling, and Molly and the visitor disappeared down the hall to t
he door leading to the basement. Hal and Kitty looked at each other across the dining-room table.

  "What does he mean?" said Kitty. "What is he going to tell nurse and Miss Frost?"

  "I don't know," said Hal. "It's queer."

  "Perhaps we're all going home to Clonmere, and this person is going to take the house from us. That's why she has to be shown all over it, and to see the kitchen. Oh, Hal, how lovely! Do you think it could be so?"

  "Perhaps," said Hal, "it might be. Perhaps we're all going back there for Easter, and the Boles are giving it up."

  A wild hope surged in the heart of each of them. Kitty ran upstairs after her father. Hal went into the drawing-room. He pulled the miniature out of his pocket and looked at it once again. If they were going home he would be able to compare it with the original at Clonmere. What a fool he must have seemed at tea, jolting the teacup, and talking about that fellow Brown, whom he had gone for a walk with once, on a Sunday. Perhaps if he gave the miniature it would make up for it in some way. His father would know that there was something he could do, and it would show too that he knew his father was often lonely and unhappy without mamma.

  He decided to make a secret of it, to put it somewhere where his father would find it at an odd moment.

  Hal went over to the desk and wrote on a piece of paper "Father-from his loving son, Hal," and taking the miniature out of his pocket, he wrapped the paper round it, and put it just inside the desk. Then he went and sat down by the fire, and thought about going back home to Clonmere. Kitty must be right. That was the explanation of the whole business and why the Adeline person had brought so many trunks.

  Clonmere again, the room in the tower, the horses, the dogs, old Tim, the woods and the creek, Uncle Tom and Aunt Harriet. Life would fall into pattern again, even if mamma could not be with them.

  Life would have meaning. He would sail a boat in the creek. He would shoot hares on Doon Island.

  He would make a painting of Hungry Hill Kitty came into the room, round-eyed, mysterious.

  "Frostie's upset," she said. "What can father have said to her? And she's gone into the spare room to talk to that woman, with her tight-lipped face on, you know, the one she has when she's worried. Surely Frostie would want to go back home."