‘All right! But what of the fate of this unfortunate kitten? Even though your attitude is one of complete indifference to me, surely you’re not hard-hearted enough to condemn it to the fate that Mrs. Clarke has in store for it?’
‘What fate?’ I asked cautiously.
‘Do you realize, my dear girl, that this kitten is one of a large family of similar monstrosities?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Rodney put in solemnly. ‘There’s lots more up at the farm.’
‘Exactly. And do you know that Mrs. Clarke hates kittens, especially marmalade ones? If you return this animal its fate is definitely sealed.’
At this dire information Rodney burst into loud sobs and clutched the kitten closer so that it squawked indignantly.
‘Surely, Esther, you’re not so utterly heartless as to condemn this helpless creature?’
He was at his usual occupation of mocking me, I realized, and my first reaction was to insist that Rodney return the kitten immediately and show him that I was not to be so easily bamboozled.
‘Oh, Aunt Esther, do let me keep him!’ Rodney’s pudgy face gazed at me anxiously.
‘But what will your mother say when she returns and finds that we have an addition to the household?’ I protested weakly.
‘Oh, she won’t even notice it,’ Rodney put in eagerly, with childish perspicacity. It was true, of course. Unless the kitten actually got in her way and caused her inconvenience, Averil probably would not mind.
‘All right, then! But you’ll have to take care of it yourself,’ I added severely to save face.
Radiant, Rodney was about to go into the house when, turning, he said magnanimously to Vance, ‘You must come to my birthday party. Mrs. McAlister is making a cake with my name on top and we’re having jellies and ices.’ Then, continuing his headlong dash towards the house, he left me alone with Vance.
‘What’s this about a party? Don’t tell me you’re actually going to have a hooley?’
‘It’s for Rodney’s birthday. He’s going to ask a few of his friends from school to it.’
‘Indeed? Then, no doubt, should I accept his gracious invitation, not being quite in the same age group, I should feel rather out of things.’
‘I should imagine so,’ I said dryly.
‘All the same perhaps I could contribute something towards the general jollification. We have some Chinese lanterns at the house. They were strung amongst the bushes at one of Mother’s do’s and by all accounts it was a smashing success.’
‘If you like,’ I said doubtfully. ‘But where exactly do you intend to string them here?’
‘Through the orchard, of course. I imagine they’ll look pretty effective shining through the blossoms, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Rodney’d like that,’ I agreed grudgingly.
‘Good. Then I’ll make arrangements for the great day if you’ll let me know in advance.’
He turned and left me with the quick, lithe steps that were somehow typical of the man.
Feeling rather let down at the swiftness of his departure, I walked slowly back to the cottage, conscious of a strange unease that I found difficult to fling off, or even, for that matter, to pinpoint. It had something vaguely to do with the sudden flash of fight in the woods and the knowledge that we had been spied on. Eric, curious and malign, had been sitting up there, his sticks placed beside him, sweeping his powerful binoculars over the surrounding countryside, intent on feeding his frustration by witnessing something that might give him the opportunity to exert a subtle blackmail on his victims. The fact that he had seen me in Vance’s arms was of no importance. After all, I had simply stumbled: it had been an accident. I had nothing whatever to worry about, as far as he was concerned, I told myself.
It was as well for my peace of mind that I didn’t realize the capital Eric was to make out of the meaningless incident and that he was already planning to bring a swift end to my idyllic days at Cherry Cottage.
Shortly before Rodney’s birthday I received a letter from my mother and, to my surprise, instead of querulously complaining how difficult life was without me and all the insurmountable problems that my absence caused, she seemed actually to be in good spirits.
‘You will be surprised to hear that your cousin George has gone abroad and that Aunt Mavis is joining me until she makes plans for the future. I must say that we get on splendidly together and I do hope she will stay on indefinitely, for she understands all my little foibles and is so agreeable in all sorts of ways. There is no reason why we shouldn’t settle down comfortably together.
‘I am quite reconciled now to your staying on at Cherry Cottage until Averil’s return. I must say it was providential under the circumstances that your cousin George decided to take a position abroad and has left his mother free to come to me, for, as you know, I rather dreaded being here on my own. But then young people now have so very little consideration for their elders, so that it’s hardly likely my point of view would have made any difference. As long as Averil was enjoying herself she wouldn’t .give a thought to the inconvenience she was causing me by selfishly rushing off on a cruise. However, as I said, perhaps good may come out of it in the end, for she definitely needs the steadying influence of a husband and, who knows, she may meet someone suitable abroad, for it’s hardly likely she will in a small provincial town like Warefield—’
I folded the letter and replaced it in its envelope, thinking how ironic it was that it was here in despised, provincial Warefield that Averil had selected her husband. When my mother spoke of a prudent husband what she actually meant was an eligible one, and from her point of view, Vance Ashmore of the Ashmore Shipping Line would be an eminently suitable husband for Averil. Any transitory romances that Averil might indulge in abroad would be strictly limited by the termination of the cruise. She was fundamentally much too canny and hard-headed to make again the mistake of falling in love with a man like Clive, without ambition or initiative. In spite of the romantic tropic moon and the half-Spanish, half-Italian boy-friend, it would be Vance Ashmore and a future as mistress of the Ashmore mansion that would be in the forefront of her mind.
Well, at least until Averil’s return I would be spared being bombarded by my mother’s self-pitying letters, I thought with relief.
I had scarcely finished the rest of the letter which dealt mainly with my mother’s feud with her next-door neighbour when Mrs. McAlister bustled into the sitting-room.
‘It’s about time we were thinking of getting things ready for the party,’ she announced. ‘And I won’t half be glad when it’s over and done with, for the bairn does nothing but plague me about it!’
Mrs. McAlister sounded severe, but I realized she was good-naturedly bent on making it a success and had already planned the sort of menu small boys delight in.
‘Yes, I expect we’d better do our shopping, I agreed. ‘After all, it will be the day after tomorrow, won’t it?’
‘Well, the cake’s all ready, but for the icing,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘And then there’s jellies and biscuits and lemonade and—’ here she produced from her pocket a long list that she had laboriously made out—‘paper hats and balloons and such like.’
Rodney interrupted, bursting into the room his face aglow. ‘And you will write “Happy Birthday Rodney” on the cake, won’t you, Mrs. McAlister?’ he asked earnestly.
Mrs. McAlister chuckled, ‘That I will, son, in pink icing. Now you’d better help Miss Esther to get the stuff up from the town, for I won’t have time, I can tell you that much.’
‘All right,’ I said in mock resignation as I went upstairs to fetch my coat. ‘We’ll set off now and see about supplies.’
It was a beautiful day and I revelled in the clear warm air as Rodney and I, carrying enormous baskets, walked leisurely down the lane. Primroses nestled in the budding hedgerows, their petals moon-yellow against their rough dimpled green leaves. There was at least another week before Averil was due to return and I determined to enjoy th
ese halcyon days to the full without looking beyond them and my return to Wentworth and Judd’s.
Our purchases included a mauve satin ribbon and bell to tie about Marmalade’s neck, as Rodney was determined he should take a prominent part in the birthday celebrations—just how prominent I was later to find out to my cost. However, at that time I had no inkling of what lay in store.
Our baskets laden, we went into a tea-shop for refreshments and had barely seated ourselves when Bob Pritchard drove up. He caught sight of us immediately as the tea-rooms had only a scattering of customers, and came up to our table. ‘May I join you? I’m in between cases and just shot in for some light refreshments—besides, it saves me having to go back to that dragon of a housekeeper of mine. She takes a dim view of snacks between meals.’
‘Of course,’ I said automatically, wondering curiously why he had endured that ‘dragon of a housekeeper’ so long, instead of marrying.
Had Rodney been childishly mistaken in the conversation he had overheard between Averil and Bob? Somehow Bob Pritchard appeared to me to be an eminently practical young man, unlikely to suffer long from unrequited love. Surely in the whole of Warefield he could find a suitable wife!
He surveyed the bulging baskets stacked on the window-ledge. ‘Well, what’s all this in aid of? You look as if you’ve been buying up the whole of Warefield.’
‘It’s for my birthday: I’m going to have a party,’ Rodney announced proudly.
‘Oh, you are, are you! Well, don’t, on any account, call me during the night if you get a tummy-ache, young man, for I should imagine there’s a large amount of indigestible comestibles m these baskets.
Rodney grinned, ‘Oh, I shan’t eat it all myself: I’m inviting some boys from school.’
Bob looked at me inquiringly. ‘I should have imagined Averil would have vetoed such a plan had she been on the spot.’
Was he quietly pointing out to me that I was deliberately ignoring Averil’s wishes? I wondered.
‘You seem to know a great deal about Averil,’ I said resentfully.
He nodded without rancour, then said quietly, ‘Yes, Averil and I were pretty friendly at one time.’
‘Then perhaps you feel that the party is a mistake on my part,’ I said challengingly.
He shook his head and regarded me levelly. ‘On the contrary, I think it an excellent idea. I could never see Averil’s point of view when it came to the local families. But then,’ he added without bitterness, ‘she could never see mine. She thought it extraordinary that I should see my future life set in Warefield, turning into “Old Doc Pritchard.” It used to amaze her that I could contemplate such a fate with equanimity. But strangely enough the prospect doesn’t fill me with horror. In fact, I rather look forward to spending my life here. I’ve never been a particularly brainy sort of chap and I realized early on that there was no brilliant future for me in medicine. I’d simply be following in my father’s footsteps. His practice was established here before I was born and I’m a bit old-fashioned, I expect, but I like the idea of continuing where he left off, as it were.’
If what Rodney had overheard had been interpreted correctly it was not surprising Averil had turned Bob down, I thought. Had he really imagined that beautiful, wilful Averil would settle down and turn into a staid and sober G.P.’s wife? But then when a man is in love it is natural for him to indulge in wishful thinking. But just how much had he been in love? And how much was his judgment of Vance Ashmore biased by his jealousy of the man who had won the girl he had naively thought would be willing to be his wife?
Afterwards the conversation turned to generalities and soon Bob hurried off. When he had consumed three cream cakes Rodney reluctantly agreed that it was time to return with the supplies to Mrs. McAlister.
To my relief Rodney’s birthday dawned bright and clear, without a hint of a cloud or suggestion of rain. I had planned to keep the boys outdoors as much as possible and later on, when it was dusk, to switch on the lanterns which workmen from the Ashmore estate had already set up. The prospect of six sturdy schoolboys in the small sitting-room should it rain made me quail.
While Rodney was at school I slipped down to town and bought him the roller-skates that he had set his heart on. Then Mrs. McAlister and I set to and prepared the room. When it was ready we stood back and surveyed our handiwork with satisfaction. From the dark rafters hung clusters of crimson, mauve and yellow balloons and gaily-coloured crackers were piled around an epergne on which was fruit, the whole topped with a spray of golden daffodils. Apart from the highly-coloured and indigestible fare that small boys delight in, there was Mrs. McAlister’s cake, a magnificent tiered confection in pink and white icing with ‘Happy Birthday, Rodney’ elegantly inscribed on the top.
‘It looks a fair treat, doesn’t it?’ Mrs. McAlister said with pride. ‘And nothing indigestible either, so they won’t be able to blame me if they feel poorly afterwards.’
‘If they don’t feel poorly after some of these I’ll be surprised!’ I pointed to the quivering jellies and trifles that dotted the table.
‘Here they come,’ Mrs. McAlister announced, glancing through the window, then added in an astounded voice, ‘And if he hasn’t that young scamp, Phillips, with him!’
‘Yes,’ I laughed. ‘I was under the impression when I first saw them locked in combat that Phillips was his worst enemy, but he insisted on inviting him. So you can never tell with small boys, can you?’
Mrs. McAlister pursed her lips as she went towards the door looking extremely disapproving. ‘All the same, he’s a right little demon and not at all the type that should be playing with Rodney. His mother’s a widow, a real gadabout, and lets the boy run wild. You mark my words, there’ll be trouble before the day’s out.’
I laughed, ‘Oh, don’t be such a pessimist, Mrs. McAlister. Surely he can’t be such a little monster. Anyway, I’ll keep them busy after the party. I’ll arrange games in the orchard: that should work off their energy and keep them out of trouble.’
But Mrs. McAlister shook her head and muttering dire warnings of trouble to come, opened the door.
Rodney marched in proudly followed by six sheepish, freshly-scrubbed boys and soon afterwards Mrs. McAlister departed.
To my relief Phillips looked comparatively mild. I discounted Mrs. McAlister’s grim warnings: no doubt his snub nose and pugilistic expression had given her a bad impression. The meal passed without incident and when they had pulled the last cracker and demolished the last jelly, the boys eagerly trooped after me into the orchard where I kept them occupied in a series of energetic games. However, after a while, to my dismay, the sky began to darken and some drops heralded an approaching rain storm. As I hustled them indoors, I was thinking that six small boys, still full of unexpended energy, were far too many for the small sitting-room to contain comfortably.
Marmalade, complete with mauve ribbon and bell, had been dozing comfortably in front of the fire after partaking of a dish of custard in honour of Rodney’s birthday and he now sprang to his feet nervously as the boys clattered in.
Almost immediately I noticed a change come over Rodney and his guests. Phillips, a paper pirate hat atop his red hair, commandeered Rodney’s birthday skates and began to career around the table. It was obvious that he was a born leader, for soon the others became infected by his recklessness and dashed about in a wild game of tag, scattering the chairs and making the glass and china in the delicately carved display cabinet tinkle ominously.
I made an attempt to control them, but I had underestimated the power Phillips seemed to have over his companions and with a feeling of despair I saw Rodney’s party disintegrate into a wild orgy of destruction that I was powerless to halt. I looked on with mounting horror as Phillips with a whoop sped across the floor. No doubt he intended to swoop past the china cabinet, but at that moment Marmalade, with a squawk, his bell tinkling wildly, scuttled across the floor and Phillips, in an effort to avoid him, careered headlong into the cabinet. There was
the appalling sound of rending wood and crashing china and glass as the fragile piece of furniture disintegrated.
A silence fell on the room as the children, frightened and sobered by the disaster, gazed wide-eyed on the resulting chaos. Slowly Phillips got to his feet, his usually ruddy face pale with shock, his pirate crown askew, and I could see he was on the verge of tears. For once he was at a loss for words, and I was on the point of opening my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of him when the door opened and Averil stood on the threshold.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR a moment she gazed at the paper-hatted boys, the untidy table still bearing the debris of the meal; the half-eaten trifles, the broken straws and the general chaos that results from a children’s party. Then her gaze moved to the floor, its glossy patina rowled with the marks of roller-skates, and finally to the delicate cabinet and its shattered contents. Gradually, as realization dawned, I saw her face darken with rage.
‘So this is what goes on as soon as my back is turned! Get these children out of here immediately!’
Miserably I began to organize their departure. The children themselves seemed anxious to escape as quickly as possible from this angry adult with the blazing eyes.
She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Vance, would you like to see the havoc my dear sister has made of your quaint old-world cottage while I was away?’
To add to my dismay I saw Vance’s tall figure come into view behind her shoulder. He surveyed the scene impassively as I hurried out the subdued children. Rodney, sobbing despairingly at the fiasco of his birthday party, scuttled upstairs.
When the last child had departed, Averil flung off her coat and swung on me angrily. ‘You invited these wretched children behind my back, although you know how I object to them as playmates for Rodney. They’re not at all the type I want him to mix with especially that ghastly Phillips boy.’
Sister of the Bride Page 10
