“Never mind Lois. You’ve not told me how the holiday went off; did you all have a good time?”
“Oh — all right.” Her tone was a little offhand. “Jo got heat spots and her nose peeled; the pair of them wore out every rag they’ve got; and I’m broke! You know what summer holidays are like — and the prices were enough to make your head swim. Oh well ... What are you looking for?” she broke off to ask. Richard was staring rather vaguely about the room.
“Am I dreaming, or usen’t there to be a green cushion in that chair?”
“Well, if you’re not a caution!” But she was beaming, delighted by his memory. “I should think there was — a dreadful, bright green thing somebody gave me for a housewarming present. Fancy your remembering it.”
“But hasn’t it been there all the time? I mean, the last time I came to tea?”
“It’s been gone years!” And she had changed it for the expensive, mole-colored crushed velvet mainly on his account. She smothered another laugh. “You can’t say you’re very observant, can you? These covers will have to be done over again one day soon. You can’t cope with London dirt, you know; you’re at it every day with the vacuum, but it seems to eat into the stuff. Still, the room doesn’t look so bad, does it? It makes me laugh, to think what a bare little place it was the first time you came into it.”
“I’m glad my soapstone lady keeps her place.”
“Oh, Kay wouldn’t let anybody move that.” She bit her lip. She had not intended to mention Kay, and there, the name had slipped out. Her mind plunged clumsily for a change of subject, but he saved her the trouble.
“While I think of it — I’ve got seats for The Beggars’ Opera. It’s an evening performance, but it won’t matter, will it, for once? There was nothing to be had for the matinees until after the holidays.”
She said slowly, “It’s all right for Jo —”
“Hang it, Bell, at fifteen you don’t expect to be in bed every night at half past nine!”
But he had not been there for the scene, when the children were told that Susan was taking them for tea in Kensington Gardens.
“I don’t believe in coddling, as you know; but I’m going to stop Kay’s late nights for the rest of the holidays.” Her mouth set in its thin line of decision.
“What’s she been doing?” He schooled his voice to coolness.
Bell made an impatient movement.
“Oh, goodness knows what’s come over her. She’s so moody and excitable — it seems as if she doesn’t know what to be at next. And since she’s taken to lying awake at night I don’t know where we are. Susan insists on giving her her breakfast on a tray, but I don’t like it at all; I don’t believe in getting a girl of Kay’s age into slack habits.”
“Have you taken her to a doctor?”
“Oh, Remington says it’s just her age, and she’s growing too fast. Whatever it is, she’s a regular little pest these days,” said Bell with a maternal viciousness that reminded Richard of his Siamese queen, bored with her three-month-old kitten.
“Well, is Remington the fellow for her? I know he is supposed to be an ace as a neurologist, but I’ve not heard anything in particular about him in connection with adolescents. A cousin of mine took her children to Lovat Reid; she swears by him.”
“Oh, Remmy’s a very good fellow.” Although his eyes were averted, he could imagine her stiffening in her chair; he knew her hatred of anything verging on “interference” with her plans for the girls. And what was behind her dismissal of them this afternoon, which had disorganized the whole of his plans for campaign on Kay’s behalf?
He had come to the conclusion, after long and serious thought, that his best plan was to open the question of Kay’s future before the three — if necessary, the four of them. He had hoped, on meeting Susan at the door, to give her a hint to abstract Jo, after a suitable interval, and keep her occupied, for half an hour at any rate, in another room; if this failed one could only hope that Jo’s ebullience would not interrupt the general trend of the discussion. He had hoped to keep the discussion on amicable lines, and that Kay, given his support, would take her share in it. He was anxious, above all, not to give Bell the impression that Kay and he had leagued together, secretly, to defeat her intentions, since he felt sure that Kay would be made in some way to suffer if such an impression were given. Not that Bell was capable of malice, but, jealous as she was of her daughters — and particularly of Kay’s — loyalty, she would not be able to resist inflicting some of her own pain on the girl.
All of these eminently wise plans were defeated by the absence of the children, which had given him a shock of disappointment he was at pains to conceal. Surely the holidays were not so long that Bell need grudge him one of his few pleasures? And they had been away for three weeks, which meant the interruption of the time-honored custom of Sunday lunch with Richard. It would have been a little easier if they could have talked of Kay, but Richard, keenly intuitive, had sensed constraint in the very crispness with which Bell informed him that she had sent the girls out for the afternoon. She gave no explanation, seeming to assume he would take it for granted; but the very coolness of her manner had made him wonder, for the first time, whether Bell was as candid as he had believed her to be. Then it occurred to him that she had, perhaps, something to discuss with him which she did not wish to speak of before the children; and he had waited patiently, increasingly mystified by the babble of small talk she produced for his entertainment, and finally convinced that there was nothing at the back of it apart from her unexplained intention of keeping his company to herself. Good friends as they were, Richard was at a loss to account for this unprecedented whim on the part of Bell.
Yet if he did not speak now he would be failing Kay. It was by no means certain that he would have another opportunity for conversation with Bell before the children went back to school; and since the rule was strict about letters, unless they came under cover from parents or near relations, he would not be able to write her the results of his efforts on her behalf. He could almost feel her standing by his shoulder, feel the faint brush of her hair against his cheek, the light touch of her hand on his shoulder, as, choosing his words carefully, he said:
“Do you think, perhaps, she may have something worrying her — something on her mind?”
She gave him a sharply antagonistic look.
“I suppose you mean this nonsense about stopping another year at school?”
“Just a minute, Bell. Are you sure it’s nonsense?”
Her face was red now with anger, which he saw her trying to control.
“Don’t let’s start an argument, Mr. Somervell. I know what I’ve done for the girls and what I can afford to do. Kay has picked up some ridiculous notion from one of the older girls and wants to be ‘in the swim’; that’s all there is about it. She knows I won’t listen to such rubbish, so I suppose she’s been working it off on you.”
“I heard nothing about it until these holidays,” said Richard coolly, “and I must say it struck me as not a bad idea.”
“Indeed! And on what grounds?” Haughty, Bell became a little ludicrous, and he had to repress a smile.
“Well, my dear girl, what are you going to do with her if you have her at home?”
“Spend a year in building up her health, and then she can do her fashion drawing or whatever it is,” said Bell tartly. She made it evident she would not stand for argument.
“But — is Kay interested in fashions?” Like Remington, he wondered where this idea had come from.
“Did you ever know an ordinary girl who wasn’t?” snapped Bell.
“I’m not sure I’d describe Kay as an ‘ordinary’ girl,” said Richard — indiscreetly.
“Of course she’s ordinary!” blazed Bell as indignantly as though she defended her daughter against some evil accusation. “All this bookish nonsense — bah! I’ve no patience with it. She wasn’t that sort of child at all, until I sent her to the Towers — and many a time I wish to g
oodness I hadn’t! A nice, simple, healthy home life was what she needed, and unluckily it was the one thing I couldn’t give her. Well, she’s going to have it, as soon as she’s got through this coming year; we’ll see if that won’t take the nonsense out of her —”
“There might be something in it — he strove to propitiate her — “if you were at home yourself. But, good as Susan is, do you think she’s quite the person to put in sole charge of an active-minded, quick-witted child like Kay? There’s such a thing, you know, Bell, as intellectual starvation; and in my experience it’s a good deal more dangerous than the other kind.”
She was staring at him with unfeigned astonishment.
“Well! ‘Active-minded’ is about the last word I’d apply to Kathleen! Do you know she spends half the day mooning around, behaving as if she doesn’t know if she’s on her head or her heels, not answering, nine times out of ten, when one speaks to her? No, no: you’ve got the wrong idea there! Not that it surprises me; she seems to have plenty to say for herself when you’re about. No, Mr. Somervell, I know you mean kindly, and I can’t be too grateful for the interest you take in the children; but Kathleen’s my girl, and you’ve got to let mothers know best.”
Her complaisance so infuriated him that for several seconds he was too angry to speak.
“Well,” he said at last, forcing his voice to moderation, “in my opinion, Bell, you’re making a very grave mistake; not only on Kay’s account but on your own. You already have more irons in the fire than you can handle, and you propose to add another to them; you know you’ll never be satisfied to leave Kay to Susan when you get her home. You talk about building up her health ...” What was the use of talking to Bell about a nature like Kay’s, that responded with destructive ardor to every influence that crossed her path? “Do, Bell, at least think it over; remember what open-air games and the regular routine of a good country school mean to a girl of Kay’s age.”
It’s just turned out the way I meant it not to, she was thinking. Her face felt hot and uncomfortable, her eyelids prickled, and she blinked them rapidly to get rid of the disagreeable sensation. I meant us to have a nice, quiet talk — without Kathleen chipping in and monopolizing the conversation, the way she kept doing last time: behaving as if “Mr. Dick,” as she called him, came to see her and nobody else! That child wants putting in her place: nobody seems to remember that children should be seen and not heard, in these days. I wanted to hear if there was any news about Geneva, and about the country place at Vemey, and what his plans are for the autumn — and it’s all been Kay, Kay, Kay!
The hand she gave him in farewell was hard and cool, and there was no conviction in her, “We’ll be seeing you soon,” or in his formal thanks for her hospitality.
Well, that was that. Why should she feel sore and disappointed, like a silly girl cheated of a sentimental hour with an admirer? As if there had ever been anything sentimental between her and Richard Somervell! The truth (she told herself) was that he had hurt her by his perfectly plain suggestion that she did not understand Kathleen; even that she was proposing to sacrifice the child’s interests to her own carefully considered plans for Kay’s future. People had no right to say these things — even to hint them. My God, if they knew how I’ve slaved and battled to do the best for Kathleen and Jo! Bell touched her eyes quickly with her handkerchief. She was not given to self-pity, and she resented it.
She had counted on this peaceful hour with Richard to get her over the shock of the extraordinary scene with Kay. Neither sensitive nor nervous, Bell had been shaken by that scene with her elder daughter. It was as disconcerting as if a small extinct volcano had burst open and volleyed flames and rock into the air. Coming at the end of a morning when Kay had been particularly quiet and absent-minded, it had shocked everyone; even Susan, whom, normally, anything from fire to earthquake left undisturbed, leaned back in her chair, her lips falling slightly open at Kay’s outburst.
“You mean you’re sending us out so we won’t see him?”
“Now, Kathleen, don’t be silly. You see plenty of Mr. Somervell, and it’s my turn today. Grown-up people don’t want children hanging round all the time; he’s had quite enough of you lately.”
“That’s not true! We haven’t seen him for three Sundays. We’ve only seen him six — no, five times these holidays. You can see him as often as you like when we’re away.”
“That’ll do. Go and get your hat on.”
“I’m not going to. You can’t go on treating me as if I was Jo’s age, and pushing me out of the way when it suits you. Mr. Dick’s just as much my friend as yours; we’re interested in all sorts of things you don’t even know about —”
“Do you know who you’re speaking to?”
Bell was very angry. She stood up to face her daughter. It struck her sharply that Kay’s head was on a level with hers; the little white face, the eyes darkened with what Bell called “temper,” were no longer below her own. Her instinct to give Kay a smart box on the ear — a thing she had never done to either of the children, although she had once or twice smacked Jo — was checked; she realized, aghast, that it would be “unsuitable.”
“Do you know what’s the matter with you, my girl?” She forced herself to speak quietly. “You need somebody to keep you in order. Your schooling’s gone to your head — see? You’re so conceited and above yourself that, I tell you candidly, you’re hardly fit to live with.”
She paused for this to sink in; Kay said nothing, but her thin hands opened and clenched themselves again; the tip of her tongue moistened her dry lips.
“If any of us children had spoken to Mother as you’ve just spoken to me, Father would have had us across his knee. That’s what you want: a father, my girl. And I’ve a damn good mind to give you one, to see how you’d like it.”
She was usually scrupulous about her language before the children, but Kay’s white and scornful face put her in such a rage that she could have sworn full-bloodedly, for the sake of shocking her into her senses.
Kay gasped, “Go on; get married then! I don’t care — I don’t care what you do! I’ll go and live with” — her eyes flickered — “with George!” Bell got the impression that this was not what she had intended to say; she had thought better of something — of what? Her hard, bright eyes penetrated her daughter’s and saw them flinch. It was Kathleen’s old trick of evasion. Bell bit her lip. Oh dear, I thought they’d got rid of that at the Lodge.
Jo, up to this moment unwontedly silent, piped up.
“Oh, Kay, you can’t! You know you always say old Mrs. Glaize smells!” She appeared to have one of her brief moments of reflection. “If you go and live with anybody I should think it had better be Mr. Dick; you know how well you get on with Jenkins.”
“Hold your tongue, Jo!” Good gracious, thought Bell, Kathleen was turning positively green; she couldn’t be going to be sick?
Anxiety momentarily drove anger from Bell’s heart. Suppose the child was sickening for something? It wasn’t Kay’s way to be rude. Measles? Chicken pox? That would be a nice finish to the holidays — Kathleen in hospital, Jo in quarantine, and herself not able to go near cither of them because of the patients.
“Fetch me the thermometer,” she said to Susan, the silent spectator of this uncomfortable scene. “Run along, Jo; wash your hands and give your hair a good brush. Now, Kathleen,” she said when they were alone, “you may not be feeling very well, but you can’t talk to your mother like that. It’s rude and it’s hurtful. Good gracious, I thought you were too old for such babyish behavior!”
“Well, what do you expect, when I’m treated like a baby?” There were no signs of contrition in the set little face. “Even at school I’m not treated as you treat me at home! They don’t give me rubbishy books about The Heroine of the Fifth and Peggy the Guider — or make me stop reading because it’s bad for my eyes — or — or make me look silly by talking about my inside in front of people — or saying things about me and pretending I never lis
ten! I do listen, if there’s anything worth listening to!”
“Come on, Susan.” Bell took the thermometer and shook it down with an experienced hand. “Now then, open your mouth.”
And then, with a shocking gesture, Kay lifted her hand and slapped the thermometer out of her mother’s, down on the floor. The door slammed. Bell and Susan stared at each other.
“Well. What do you make of that?”
“I wouldn’t take too much notice of it, Mrs. Timson.” Susan was calmly picking up the splinters of glass. “It’s a difficult age. Whatever you say, they’re inclined to take it wrong.” She lifted her ruddy, Dutch, doll-like face, unperturbed. “Why, I believe you’re more upset than her!”
“And well I may be. The impudence of it!” Usually so neat and decided in her movements, her hands fumbled the cigarette box; she saw them actually trembling as she struck a light. Losing my temper like a fool! she told herself angrily as she tossed the match into the fireplace.
“I wouldn’t say impudence. It was something deeper than that,” Susan was saying.
“What on earth do you mean by ‘deeper’?”
Susan stood her ground.
“1 don’t know, I’m sure; Kathleen’s got a lot in her that I don’t understand, sometimes.”
“Well, I do. I often wish I hadn’t listened to Miss Cleveland’s advice about Kathleen; all schools are mad on examinations in these days; you’d think they wanted to make all the children into professors of something! That wasn’t why I sent my two to boarding school; I only wanted to have the pair of them looked after until they were old enough to look after themselves.”
“You never know the way the cat’s going to jump, Mrs. Timson,” said Susan wisely.
“It’s going to jump my way or I’ll know the reason why,” was the tart rejoinder.
“Well, time’ll show. Her father was a clever man, wasn’t he?” said Susan reflectively.
Bell Timson Page 19
