Gently with Love

by Alan Hunter

  ‘Let’s get out into the air. I’m beginning to find this place close.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ve recovered?’

  ‘I never felt better. I know, we’ll take a stroll in St Cuthbert Gardens.’

  She rose determinedly, so I paid for the tea and followed her into the street. St Cuthbert Gardens was a pleasant spot near one of Blockford’s churches. It was surrounded by tall limes, through which peered the grave tower of the church, and its several walks wound through shrubberies of rhododendrons and azaleas, now in bloom. Anne found a bench in view of the church and with a prospect of the riotous blossoms. We sat and for some moments she stared in silence at the brilliant display. Then she sighed.

  ‘Last night. You wanted to talk about Daddy, didn’t you?’

  I hid my surprise. ‘It perhaps wasn’t the time to dwell on a painful subject.’

  ‘It isn’t painful to me. I like to talk about him. It seems to make him still alive. I don’t think that people ever die really, not people like Daddy. He isn’t dead to me.’ There was a quiver in her voice.

  ‘People stay alive in those who loved them.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said eagerly. ‘That’s true. Daddy is still alive in me. Then he will keep staying alive in the people I am loved by. Death isn’t real at all. It just doesn’t make any difference.’

  ‘I used to know your father well.’

  ‘Oh please. Tell me about him.’

  I smiled. ‘I was rather hoping that I would hear about him from you.’

  ‘But you knew him when he was younger. He must have been a wonderful person then. And that’s the part I can never know, it’s just some old photographs in an album.’

  ‘Well,’ I paused. ‘He was very like you.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘You could guess where he came from before he spoke. He had an air, half shy and half friendly. You felt his sincerity was absolute.’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘He didn’t change. That’s Daddy as I always knew him. And he had a special laugh, do you remember that? The way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled?’

  ‘He had the driest sense of humour.’

  ‘Oh yes!’

  ‘I have never known him out of temper. He was a kindly man who enjoyed helping people. I’m sure he would have approved of Earle.’

  She nodded but said nothing, and her eyes sank to her lap. I could see her hands creep together and suddenly clasp tight.

  ‘I haven’t known Earle for long,’ I said. ‘But I’m supposed to be a professional at assessing character. And if you were my daughter I would give you my blessing. I think you two are lucky to have found each other.’

  She gave me a quick, grateful look, but then resumed the study of her lap.

  ‘Of course, he comes from another country,’ I continued. ‘And that may present a problem one day. He may grow homesick, or his career may make it necessary for him to return. Then you will have a decision to make. But I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out. Verna will be the difficulty. You must give her plenty of time to get used to the idea.’

  I hesitated. The knuckles of Anne’s hands showed white. There was something at once tense and yet oddly forlorn about her droop-headed figure.

  ‘You do love him, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’

  ‘You don’t feel that you’re being rushed into this thing?’

  She shook her head, facing me now. ‘I love him and I always shall.’

  ‘But you’re upset.’

  ‘It’s because you’re so kind. You’re talking to me like Daddy would. And I don’t deserve it, really – I don’t deserve any of this!’ She began to sob. ‘We quarrelled,’ she said. ‘Oh, it’s over and done with now. But about that. Him going back to Canada. And he changed his plans all because of me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Please, it isn’t your fault,’ she sobbed.

  ‘If he changed his plans it proves he loves you.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ She sobbed bitterly.

  I glanced round the Gardens. This certainly did seem my afternoon for awkward moments. Fortunately, nobody was in our immediate vicinity, and Anne was sobbing quite quietly. I produced my rejected handkerchief again and this time she made use of it. I let her cry. At least, I understood that she had emotions that needed this vent.

  Eventually the sobs grew less frequent and then she blew her nose with vigour. I had lit my pipe, and I continued to smoke silently while she administered a few last dabs. She sniffed once or twice.

  ‘I’m ashamed of myself.’

  I shrugged and blew a ring.

  ‘Everyone is so kind. I don’t know what ails me. All I have to do is be happy.’

  ‘Getting married is an emotional time.’

  ‘I know, but usually I’m so phlegmatic. Earle would never believe I’d blubbered in public, it just isn’t like me at all.’

  ‘Are you quite sure that you don’t have a problem?’

  ‘I—’ She hesitated, frowning at the flowers. ‘You see, I’ve missed having someone like you to talk to, someone older. Like Daddy.’

  ‘You know you can talk to me in confidence.’

  She nodded. ‘I wish . . . I wish I’d met you earlier. But it’s been good for me, just talking like this. I feel it’s helped me to see things straighter.’

  ‘You love each other. Nothing else matters.’

  She gave me a forced little smile. ‘No. I’ll hang on to that. It’s the only real religion for women.’ She rose hastily. ‘I must fly, or Verna will wonder where I’ve got to.’ She checked. ‘You won’t come back with me, will you? There’s just Verna and me. The boys are in town.’

  ‘I can’t. I have an evening lecture.’

  ‘That’s a pity.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m very grateful, George. Please remember that. I think I needed to run into you just now.’

  As she hurried away I remembered the picture. but it was too late to call her back. She disappeared, half-running, among the rhododendrons: I found myself involuntarily shaking my head.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I BOUGHT THE picture. When I got it back to my room I unwrapped it and propped it up on my dressing table. It introduced a note of reproachful nostalgia to that spare and impersonal lodging. In 1820 God was in his heaven. People knew how to paint and what to think. They thought in terms of Improvement rather than of Progress and they were content to cultivate what they had. They produced houses like Verna’s and pictures like this, which opened silent windows on a dreaming peace, and they viewed the world as an inexhaustible mystery beyond which was a universe fitting only for speculation. So I mused as I sat looking at the picture that I had bought in the antique shop at Blockford, the shop opposite the red-brick building from which I had seen Anne emerge. Of course I had glanced at its brass plate: the red-brick building was a doctor’s surgery. But the reasons are many for visiting doctors’ surgeries in these, our more dynamic, more progressive times.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE NEXT DAY was Friday (the course had begun in mid-week), and I knew that Earle and Alex would be down in the evening. Whether it affronted the conventions or not, Earle was spending his last bachelor night under Verna’s roof. The wedding was to take place at eleven the next morning, followed by the reception at a hotel; then the young couple were driving to Folkestone to catch the hover-ferry to Calais. During the dull morning session my thoughts kept straying to the house by the river. I could picture the two women surrounded by Anne’s trousseau, which they would be packing in brand-new suitcases. No doubt Anne was nervous; she might cry again. I imagined that Verna would deal with her briskly. And the packing, that would go slowly and reverently, with now and then a break to phone a last-minute message. Then, at the other end, I could picture Earle going about his business with suppressed impatience, longing to get that day over and to launch his new Pontiac towards Blockford. They would be ribbing him and drinking healths; he would probably hav
e a call booked to his father; that in turn would lead to his ringing Anne and to one more interruption of the packing. Ah, young love! I caught Commander Stapleton staring at me oddly on a couple of occasions. I suspect that my face wore a stupid simper that didn’t quite go with executive aspirations.

  At lunchtime I thought I would ring Verna and add my own contribution to the countdown. There was a pay-box in the hall and I inserted a coin and dialled her number.

  ‘Hello, Verna. George.’

  ‘Oh!’ She sounded less than enchanted. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you, George. I thought it might be Anne.’

  ‘Isn’t she with you?’

  ‘No, she isn’t, and I don’t know where she’s got to. Apparently she went out when I was having my bath, and we haven’t set eyes on her since. It’s too bad.’ There was a slight inflection of hysteria in Verna’s voice. ‘Earle has just rung up and I didn’t know what in the world to tell him.’

  ‘But didn’t she leave a message?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Haven’t you spoken to her this morning?’

  ‘How could I have done? She had gone before I came down to breakfast. Madge, that’s the help, made her some tea, and then she must have gone out straight away. And with so much to do – oh, it’s irresponsible! That girl needs a good shake.’

  I was silenced. This was a long way from the happy idyll I had been contemplating! And I could tell from Verna’s voice that she was more worried than she cared to admit. I remembered yesterday. I had persuaded myself to write that off as pre-nuptial nerves; but now I wondered guiltily if I had not been too eager to accept the most convenient explanation.

  ‘How was she last night?’

  ‘Absolutely normal. We were ironing some undies she’s taking with her. Then Earle rang, and Alex rang me. Afterwards we watched a play on TV.’

  ‘She didn’t mention any problems?’

  ‘What problems?’

  I shrugged to myself. ‘It’s an emotional time. She might be feeling run down, have some anxieties about her health.’

  Verna snorted. ‘She’s as healthy as a horse. Alex is the one who has ailments. Anne takes after Colin. She has never been ill in her life.’

  ‘Didn’t she have malaria?’

  ‘Not her. You can put those ideas out of your head.’

  ‘Well, I met her yesterday, as she will have told you, and she seemed a little off-colour then.’

  Verna paused. ‘But she didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Not that she met me in town?’

  ‘No. She said she was going to the library to hand in her books.’

  ‘She may have done that too. We met by accident.’

  This time Verna’s pause was longer. ‘I don’t like it. Why didn’t she tell me that she had met you – what was so unusual about that?’

  ‘Nothing, probably.’

  ‘She isn’t usually secretive.’

  ‘I expect she has a lot on her mind just now. She certainly seemed nervous. It may be just that she feels a need to be alone for a while.’

  ‘Then why couldn’t she have said so?’

  ‘If she works like Colin she is liable to do a thing on impulse.’

  ‘But suppose she isn’t back by this evening, what in heaven’s name shall I say to Earle?’

  We were interrupted by the pips. I sorted out another coin while Verna lamented peevishly. I fed it in. At the other end I could hear her breathing impatiently.

  ‘Look, George, I’m really worried. I’ve been sitting here getting all sorts of ideas. I was on the point of ringing the police when you called. I was sure it was going to be Anne.’

  I clicked my tongue sympathetically. ‘That’s understandable. But I don’t think I would bother the police just yet, Verna. I’m pretty certain that Anne will turn up before long and she wouldn’t thank you for setting the police on her.’

  ‘Well, she deserves it, that’s all I can say. She must have known how it would upset me. And I really can’t face Earle if she isn’t here. George, you’ll have to come over and help me.’

  I hesitated: this had all the makings of a family row. There was an edge in Verna’s voice that suggested she would not be restrained by any deference to tomorrow’s occasion. Anne had acted rashly: she was going to pay for it. She had betrayed a streak of her father’s nature. Perhaps I owed it to him and to her to be an emotional buffer-stop that evening.

  ‘She loves Earle, you know.’

  ‘What has that got to do with it?’

  ‘I don’t think she’ll be missing when he arrives. And no doubt some time on her own will be good for her. Perhaps we should indulge her for this once.’

  Verna made impatient noises. ‘Can I rely on you or not?’

  ‘I’ll come over as soon as I can.’

  ‘Good,’ she said. And hung up.

  I hung up too, but I lingered a few moments to digest what Verna had told me. I tried to fathom why Anne should have lied to me about having had malaria and fits of weakness. When I had come across her she had been in shock, I had no doubt of that now, and from my observation of her I didn’t think it was because she had just learned some serious news about her health. About that I could hazard a simple conjecture, but it scarcely fitted a state of shock. What I had seen in her eyes was awareness of a crisis that at that moment she was finding insupportable. Had it to do with the quarrel she spoke of? I thought not. The quarrel apparently was a thing of the past, and I suspected that she had only mentioned it to me at all to explain her tears and to allay curiosity. Well, I would have to wait; perhaps that evening would explain the mystery. And meanwhile it was an opportunity to deliver my wedding present, so I went up to my room and rewrapped it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I FELT NO great urge to arrive at Verna’s and I ate my tea and dressed in leisurely fashion. Then, at seven, I caught the bus, and rode into town with the picture on my knees. The bus dropped me at the bridge. It was another fine evening when all seemed well in the best possible of worlds. I couldn’t help indulging in a few optimistic thoughts as I strolled unhurriedly beside the river. By now Anne must have returned. She would have endured the first flush of Verna’s resentment. There had been explanations and, in tears, mother and daughter had been reconciled. The mystery, if there was one, had been cleared up, and a new and more tender understanding established. Earle had arrived to find Anne radiant. It remained but for me to share their joy.

  So I was smiling when I arrived at the door and pulled the bell to wake melodious chimes. And I was wrong. Alex answered the door; one look at his face and I knew the news was bad.

  ‘Anne has cleared out.’

  He drew me into the hall and closed the door behind us. His face was tight and pale and his dark eyes a-glitter.

  ‘You mean she hasn’t come back?’

  ‘Worse than that. She left a note in Earle’s room. The wedding is off. She won’t marry him. She took a suitcase packed with clothes.’

  He made a helpless, exasperated gesture and stood aside for me to enter the drawing room. I was stunned: but this was incredible! For almost anything else I had been prepared. I found Verna weeping on the settee and Earle sitting rigidly by the window. His face was turned from us; he had the posture of a man who has felt suddenly the pain of a mortal sickness. Neither took any notice of me. I stood foolishly, holding the picture. Alex went grimly about pouring me a drink and I laid the picture down to take it.

  ‘But . . . what reason did she give?’

  Alex groaned. ‘She just says she can’t marry him.’

  ‘Can’t?’

  ‘It usually means won’t. I can think of no other interpretation.’

  ‘But she loves Earle.’

  ‘Does she? Then this is a queer way of showing it.’

  ‘I think there must be a valid reason.’

  Alex merely grunted.

  Involuntarily I sipped the drink. Yesterday’s encounter flashed accusingly through my mind. Yes, there was much more t
han disinclination in this unlikely behaviour of Anne’s. Too late I was recognizing her outburst as the symptom of some unresolvable quandary. I should have been astuter. Now I caught the appeal in that invitation for me to return home with her.

  ‘Where has she gone?’

  ‘She wasn’t kind enough to say.’

  ‘Surely you can guess about that.’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Alex said savagely. ‘For me, my sister can go to the devil. There is no excuse for what she’s done. She has made two people utterly miserable. She has behaved like a heartless bitch and the further she stays away from me the better.’

  ‘She may need help.’

  ‘She should have thought of that.’

  ‘I have reason to think she could be in trouble.’

  ‘Then it’s no more than she deserves and I hope it brings home to her what she’s done.’

  ‘It was so unnecessary!’ Verna wailed. ‘She let us do everything, arrange everything. I had even sewn bows on all her underwear. And now to go off without even explaining!’

  ‘Had she any money?’

  ‘Oh God, I don’t know. I dare say she had some in the bank.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Does it matter? I know she saved some when she was working.’

  ‘Oh, she’d have money,’ Alex sneered. ‘She’s not such a fool as to run off penniless. And when that’s finished she can work for some more, because neither I nor mother will help her.’

  ‘But suppose she isn’t capable of work.’

  ‘Then she’ll have to get it from the man she’s run off with.

  I glanced at him sharply. ‘Is there any evidence of that?’

  ‘What else can one think?’ Verna wailed.

  I shook my head. I knew better; I knew that Anne would not have deceived Earle. She had told me quite a few fibs but she had not been fibbing when she said she loved him. And if Anne had been vacillating between two men she would have let them know where they stood. She was Colin’s daughter, she would have acted openly; and having made her choice she would have stuck to it. I turned to the window.