The Seduction of Mrs Pendlebury

by Margaret Forster

  Mrs Pendlebury would like Jane. She would automatically approve of her because she was a nurse and hard-up and hard-working. Her excessive neatness and orderly behaviour would instantly recommend her, and the frigidity of her emotional responses would be labelled keeping herself to herself, and applauded. Jane would be quiet, modest in her needs, would speak when spoken to and not otherwise. Her insipid nature would be read as shyness and her apathy on every subject except dieting called gentleness. Jane, no matter which way one looked, was tailor-made for the Pendleburys. And it would be doing everyone such a favour. Jane would get cheap accommodation and the Pendleburys would get company, just enough to make the house feel lived in without intruding on their peace and quiet. It would also make them feel they were being public spirited and there was nothing Mrs P. liked better. Alice could already hear her saying they were just doing it to help out, housing being in the state it was. The fact that Jane would only be with them for two years, the length of time her diploma would take, would be an enormous asset – a short-term investment giving them a let-out should it all not work. She would go home to her mother in Chelmsford every weekend and do all her laundry there and not bother them at all.

  Alice could hardly wait to broach the subject and yet at the same time knew how important it was to do just that – wait.

  The negotiations were as delicate as those involving a multinational agreement and Alice proceeded with the finesse of a diplomat. Easily half an hour was spent on preliminaries, on working Mrs Pendlebury into a good mood. There were certain topics Alice knew produced a Pavlovian reflex and she introduced them one by one. Head of the list was a boring saga about Amy’s doings – Mrs P. could not get enough of them. It was the next best thing to having Amy on her lap. So Alice laboriously retold the incident of Amy locking herself in the bathroom and how Tony had had to be brought home from work and climbed the drainpipe and got in the window and all the time Amy sang songs through the keyhole but could on no account be prevailed on to go and look for the key which it later transpired she’d covered with soap, and thrown down the sink. Amy’s cuteness had to be admired, her mischievousness exclaimed over, her bravery acknowledged, then, as always, there was a parallel incident from Frank’s past to be dredged up and swopped.

  By the time all this had gone on, Mrs P. was on her second cup of tea and laughing a lot and her coat was undone. With great skill Alice moved nearer her prey.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘your grandson will be up to these kind of tricks now. He’ll keep you going when you get out there.’

  ‘I expect he will.’

  ‘Won’t it be exciting seeing him for the first time?’

  ‘Well, I’ve seen photographs, Frank’s kept us well supplied with those, but they aren’t the same, are they? Yes, I expect we’ll notice a difference.’

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘About September. Stanley hasn’t seen to it yet but he’ll have to get cracking soon. He’s so slow he makes me scream.’

  Alice smiled sympathetically. Mrs P. had only lately brought herself to criticize Stanley openly – it was part of their new intimacy.

  ‘How long will you stay?’ Another much-asked question begging another much-enjoyed answer.

  ‘A month I should think, mustn’t outstay our welcome. Of course, Stanley would stay for ever but as I said to him, quite apart from anything else there’s the house to consider.’ Alice held her breath and felt suddenly nervous. ‘It can’t be left indefinitely, nor the garden.’

  Alice knew any offer to help would be haughtily refused. Instead she said, ‘It is a worry.’

  ‘Yes, but he doesn’t see it is. It’s a worry anyway.’

  ‘So’s this one. Tony thinks we should let the two top rooms now we’re all straight. The rent would pay for the rates at least.’ She paused. Had she imagined it, or was there just a flicker of suspicion in Mrs P.’s eyes? But she had to go on, it was now or never. ‘Have you ever let any of your house?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I don’t fancy it either,’ Alice said, quickly, ‘but men don’t understand, do they?’

  ‘We thought about it after Frank left,’ Mrs Pendlebury said, quite relaxed, ‘but it would be such a lot of bother.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it,’ Alice said.

  ‘Mind you, it’s wicked us having all that room.’

  ‘I don’t see why. You’re entitled to it.’

  ‘That’s what Stanley says.’

  ‘Do you know anyone who does let rooms round here?’ Alice asked, knowing damn well Mrs P. knew nobody.

  ‘No, I don’t, not these days.’

  She would never ask why, that wasn’t in her code.

  ‘It’s Tony’s sister,’ Alice said. ‘She’s a nurse and she’s coming to London for two years to do a special diploma. She’ll be at U.C.H. and wants somewhere in this area, just a room, cheap – you know nurses get paid so little. We’ve said she can live here but she wants to be independent. She doesn’t want a flat – she’ll be going home every weekend – and she doesn’t want to share. I can’t think how she’s going to find anywhere.’

  Mrs P. was sipping tea in quick little sips, the cup effectively masking her expression.

  ‘So if you hear of anything,’ Alice finished, ‘you might let me know.’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ said Mrs P., vague as vague, which was a sign that the point had been taken.

  ‘I’ve been sewing,’ Alice said. It was time to leave well alone.

  She left it at that for another two weeks, but brought in mentions of Jane haphazardly. Each time she did, she saw Mrs P.’s face register the reference. How long before she dared tackle the subject again? It was so hard to know if the idea really had taken root. She could expect no open indication. But in this she was proved wrong. Another week later and Mrs P. came in – marched in – looking very perky and announced, ‘I’ve been thinking about that nurse.’

  ‘Jane?’

  ‘Yes, I believe you said she was called that. I was thinking we ought to take in somebody like a nurse in our house.’

  ‘What a good idea, I never thought of that.’

  ‘Well, I put two and. two together and I thought what are we doing with that flat of Frank’s when a nurse could be having it. Course, it might not be to her liking, it’s not smart, it’s shabby really –’

  ‘She’ll be thrilled,’ Alice said.

  ‘I don’t know about that, she’d have to see it.’

  ‘Of course, but I know she’ll be thrilled. What kind of rent were you thinking of?’

  ‘That would be between her and us,’ Mrs P. said, quite sharply. ‘We’d have to sort something out, that’s Stanley’s department.’

  Alice felt she’d won a great victory and sensed an elation too about Mrs P. Yet, as the morning wore on, she observed a change take place in her neighbour. She began to frown, to clutch at things anxiously, to bite her lip, and at last she blurted out, ‘It isn’t a flat, you know. You mustn’t tell her it’s a flat.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘It’s just two rooms and a kitchen, not even a proper kitchen, just two hot-plates and a plug for a kettle. Frank didn’t do any proper cooking, it was just for when he came in late and wanted to make himself something. I always said to him I’d be willing to get up any time and cook for him or he could always use my kitchen but he said he felt he was disturbing us and it made him feel happier, he’s very considerate, not like Stanley. So it isn’t really a kitchen.’

  ‘She eats at the hospital,’ Alice said, soothingly, ‘and the rest of the time she has snacks – apples and cheese – she’s always slimming.’

  ‘Oh well then.’ But a minute later – ‘There’s no bathroom you know, it wouldn’t be very suitable, being a nurse, would it, not having a bathroom, being a young lady. There’s only a sink and she’d have to share the bath and the other. When Frank was here we had an arrangement – he’d have the bathroom certain times before he went to work and we’d have it be
fore or after and then having the other downstairs – you know, where Stanley . . . having the other was a help. But a nurse –’

  ‘It sounds fine,’ Alice said cheerfully, but Mrs. P. was in full flood, getting more excited every minute.

  ‘The furniture isn’t up to much, it would need a proper going over, not that I’d mind that.’

  ‘Jane can clean it herself.’

  ‘Oh it’s clean, goodness me, it’s clean, I wouldn’t have dirt in my house anywhere –’

  ‘I only meant –’

  ‘It’s clean but it’s old and there isn’t much of it.’

  ‘We could lend her some things.’

  ‘I don’t know if Stanley would like that, he’s funny about borrowing.’

  Alice knew exactly who was funny about borrowing.

  ‘Well,’ she said patiently, ‘Jane might not think she needed to borrow anything.’ She tried to think of something comforting to say. ‘She’s a very tidy person, my sister-in-law, very quiet too. You’d like her.’

  ‘I don’t suppose we’d see much of her.’

  ‘She does work hard and long hours.’

  ‘These nurses do, it’s a scandal.’

  Alice knew she was winning, but then another panic.

  ‘All the same, they like to enjoy themselves when they can, I’ve seen that, she has to have her leisure moments, she wants to be with people her own age doesn’t she, what about entertaining?’

  The last word was a screech. Patiently, Alice said, ‘Jane doesn’t entertain. She can’t afford it. I’ve never ever known her have a party or even a group of friends home. She sometimes goes out to the pictures or for a meal but that’s about all.’

  ‘Oh, well.’

  ‘But if it worries you, perhaps it would be better if I didn’t mention it to her?’

  ‘It’s up to her, isn’t it?’

  Alice wanted to say no, it’s up to you, but restrained herself.

  ‘She’s coming over this Sunday. Could she pop in then, just to see if you liked her?’

  ‘I don’t need to like her.’

  ‘No, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘I don’t know about Sunday, Sunday’s difficult.’

  ‘Never mind, then, some other time.’ Alice felt it was important, even though she didn’t want to put pressure at this moment, to get an unequivocal answer. ‘Shall I mention it to Jane?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, if you like,’ Mrs P. said, grandly, offhand, ‘no harm in mentioning it.’

  ‘It’s just I wouldn’t like to raise her hopes if –’

  ‘If what?’

  ‘Well, if you might change your mind.’

  ‘I won’t change my mind.’

  ‘Oh, good. I’ll send her in then, the next time she comes, but not this Sunday, if it isn’t convenient.’

  There was a pause. They were both exhausted. Alice searched around for a subject that would reduce the emotional pressure.

  ‘It looks as if we’re in for a lovely spring,’ she said at last.

  ‘Yes, yes, it does. A man on the wireless was saying it would be a good summer too, but I can’t see it happening, not after the scorcher we had last year.’

  ‘We’ve got daffodils out in our garden. Would you like to come and see them?’

  They went out into the garden. Against the wall of the kitchen the sun was hot.

  ‘That’s better,’ Mrs P. said. ‘You get stifled indoors.’

  They wandered round the garden as though it were a sizeable estate with Mrs P. bending down to look at flowers and shrubs and to poke at weeds. She kept turning and lifting her face to the sun and sniffing and smiling, with her eyes closed. Alice noticed how very white her skin was, a real parchment pallor made worse by the dull white-grey of her hair straggling from underneath the eternal hat. She really didn’t look well, whereas Stanley was nut-brown and bright-faced. But to pass any comment on Mrs P.’s appearance was strictly taboo. She didn’t like to be told she didn’t look well or that she was drawn or haggard.

  They were still examining the borders when Charlotte walked into the garden, round the side entrance. She smiled her hard, impersonal smile and said wasn’t the weather lovely and then in a voice that set Alice’s teeth on edge she said she was longing to show her garden off to Mrs P. and to ask her advice. Alice expected Mrs P. to refuse abruptly or to take refuge in vagueness, to start mumbling excuses and find she had to get back to Stanley. But not a bit of it – Mrs P. was all laughs and charm and shall I come now and off they both went leaving Alice also smiling and nodding like a clockwork toy, alone in her garden.

  She went inside and watched. Charlotte’s house was right at the end of the road, a dozen houses away but at an angle. She could see the two of them walking round the much larger garden over there and presently, as they stood talking, the au pair girl brought a tray out and put it on a garden table and Charlotte and Mrs P. sat on a wooden seat under a tree and drank from the china cups. Both of them smiled all the time. Charlotte’s cat came to the table and Mrs P. took hold of it and cradled it in her lap and stroked it and the cat was quite happy, curled up and slept. Alice turned away, unaccountably depressed. It was good of Charlotte to bother – it was nice for Mrs P. to have another friend – but she felt sad and excluded. Charlotte had specifically asked her to come too, had even consulted her about whether she thought Mrs P. would come, this feeling of hers was too silly to analyse. But she knew she was worried. Mrs P. was her responsibility. She was the one who had nurtured and cared for her, she was the one who had endured the downs as well as the ups, she was the one who had extended love and friendship to Mrs P. Did Charlotte know what she was doing? But wasn’t that what she had been working towards? Hadn’t she been trying to bring Mrs P. into fellowship with others? Why then did she tremble at her own success? Why should she behave like an anxious lover?

  When the doorbell rang Alice was lying on her bed at the back of the house waiting for Amy to wake up and trying to control her own unworthy feelings. She almost didn’t answer it.

  Mrs P. was standing on the doorstep.

  ‘I think I forgot my gloves,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘I had them in the garden.’

  ‘Let’s look then.’

  There was an embarrassment between them. Neither spoke as they went back into the garden. The gloves were lying on the path. Alice picked them up and handed them to Mrs P. Her face felt red.

  ‘There you are.’

  ‘Thank you. They’re only an old pair but they fit well. I’d have been sorry to lose them. Well, I’d best get back, Stanley will be wondering where I’ve got to.’

  But she went on standing there, searching for something to say.

  ‘I like your garden better than hers,’ Mrs P. blurted out, ‘it’s cosier somehow, more friendly.’

  ‘A mess, though. Charlotte really looks after hers. I’m ashamed of ours.’

  ‘Oh, but she has a gardener and plenty of time to work in it herself with that au pair to do the house.’

  ‘Still.’

  ‘It’s not my sort of garden, hers, too formal, too laid out. I shouldn’t feel comfortable in it. I’ve often looked at it from our windows and thought well, she can keep it. Ours are smaller but they’re nicer.’

  ‘Perhaps. Her house is lovely.’

  ‘Yes, very nice. She asked me in to look round but I didn’t have time.’

  ‘You should have looked, it’s beautiful, it’s like my sister Laura’s, all architect-designed.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your own.’

  ‘Oh, it’s all anyhow.’

  ‘I think it’s lovely, you’ve done wonders with it, what do you want to run it down for?’

  ‘I don’t really, it’s just – I don’t know.’

  ‘Here, are you all right? You seem a bit low. I thought that last week. I said to Stanley, Alice seems off colour, excuse me mentioning it.’

  ‘I’m having another baby.’


  ‘Ooh!’ It was exactly that sound. ‘Oooh! How lovely! Oooh! Isn’t that nice. When’s the happy event?’

  ‘The beginning of September.’

  ‘And you’re not showing at all, you’d never guess. Well then, that is nice. It’ll be a boy, I’m never wrong.’

  Everything was fine again. They parted glowing and Alice sang as she ran up the stairs to get Amy. Only a small part of her registered with unease the fact that her happiness these days seemed dependent on Mrs. P.’s approval.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ROSE KNITTED A great many things for Alice’s new baby. She sat all summer in the garden knitting away, pleased to be doing something both useful and enjoyable. All her garments were blue, a soft sky-blue that nobody could help but like, bonnets and jackets and leggings. She edged many of them with satin ribbon and bought tiny pearl buttons that were the devil to sew on. As she finished each article she washed it and dried it and pressed it and folded it and wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in a box. Amy loved to peep in this box but was never allowed to take the contents out so that it became a game of great excitement just lifting the lid and peeping between the folds of rustling paper. To please her, Rose also knitted some clothes for her doll, in blue, and wrapped these up and gave them to her and Amy positively shivered with pleasure.

  Sometimes, Alice came and sat with her but more often she went and sat with Alice. It was more suitable, in the circumstances, for her to do that. They’d built a stile over the wall at the bottom – a makeshift affair of boxes and bricks – which she could get over quite easily but which might have been dangerous for Alice to attempt in her condition. Amy soon learnt how to negotiate it and came over on her own whenever she liked. She did it when Elsie was visiting and Rose showed off about it no end. She laughed when Elsie suggested her life wasn’t her own with a two-year-old popping over whenever she felt like it and wrecking the place. ‘Who wants their life to be their own,’ she said, and laughed again at Elsie’s expression. She was so proud when, in front of Elsie, Amy climbed on to her lap and cuddled her and gave her a kiss and afterwards wouldn’t even look at Elsie.