“My blood pressure is high,” said William grandly, “but otherwise I’m well, thank you.”
Papa embraced me and patted the top of my head. “Did you have a good journey?”
I nodded, looking around the platform. “Where’s Mama?”
“She’s waiting for you at home,” said Papa, “with the children.”
I stood stock-still. William’s eyes, dark and watchful, met mine for a moment. He made a fleeting grimace.
“All the children,” said Papa casually as an afterthought. “I brought the girls and Hugh up a week ago and Philip and Marcus arrived here from their school in Surrey the day before yesterday. Now let’s find your luggage and start the journey home.”
As soon as we were alone I hissed to William, “Why didn’t you write and tell me? You didn’t say a word about it in your letters!”
“Mama asked me not to, because she didn’t want you to worry when you were so far away at school. Anyway I couldn’t write when I was ill—”
“What are they like?”
“Well, Marcus is a fairly decent sort of fellow, and Hugh’s harmless enough and the girls are just girls; but Philip is the absolute end. He’s the most detestable little brute I’ve ever met.”
The hackles rose on the back of my neck. “I knew he would be,” I said. “I knew it. I shan’t go near him.”
“You’ll have to. He’s sharing your bedroom with you.”
“What!”
“There aren’t enough bedrooms to go around. I’m sharing with Marcus, and Papa said that as you and Philip were the same age—”
I left him. I marched down the platform, accosted Papa and announced in my firmest voice, “Papa, I don’t want to share my room with anyone except William. Could you arrange it so that—”
“Into the carriage, Adrian,” he said abruptly. “We don’t discuss family affairs on station platforms.”
In the carriage I tried again. “Papa, I don’t mind sharing with William, but I don’t want to share with—”
“You’ll do as you’re told,” he said in a sharp, hard voice he had never used to me before, “and no nonsense.”
I was silenced. I stared at him, my cheeks burning, and thought in misery: We don’t matter any more. The other children come first. And the tears pricked unexpectedly behind my eyes as the carriage rolled on toward Allengate.
5
Mama came out to meet us and embraced me as warmly as ever. She looked so completely unchanged and so utterly serene that I hugged her for a moment longer than usual. When I released her at last and turned to the open front door I saw that two pairs of blue eyes were inspecting me curiously from the doorway.
“Adrian darling,” said Mama, “here are Hugh and Jeanne. Hugh is seven and a half and Jeanne is five.”
I looked at them coldly. The little girl turned and ran shyly away into the hall, but the boy smiled at me. He had a peculiarly sweet smile, open and frank. His golden hair and light blue eyes gave him a look of effortless innocence.
“Come along, Adrian,” said Papa. “Where are your manners?”
My cheeks burned again. “Hullo,” I said to the boy.
“How do you do,” said Hugh with winning politeness, and held out his hand.
After a moment I shook it and turned away. “How are you, Mama dear,” I said clearly. “Thank you for your lovely cards from Switzerland.”
“Did you like them? It was so beautiful there—next time you must come too and see it for yourself.” She took my hand tightly in hers and squeezed it. “Come in and meet Marcus and Mariana.”
Marcus was already in the hall. He was tall and sturdy with an encouragingly friendly smile.
“Hullo Adrian,” he said, also offering me his hand to shake. “William has talked so much about you. It’s nice to see you at last.”
His eyes, light blue like Hugh’s, were so clear and frank and unconcerned. For some odd reason I did not trust them. For a second I imagined myself taken from my mother and from Allengate and sent to live among strangers; it occurred to me that the very last thing I would do in such circumstances would be to feel friendly toward my new companions. I thought: They’re pretending. They hate us as much as we hate them. They don’t really want to be friends.
We went into the drawing room. Seated on the window seat in a classic pose was the prettiest little girl I had ever seen. She had black hair, beautifully arranged, a pink and white skin and those same clear light eyes.
How odd that they should all have those horrid eyes was my reaction, and suddenly I was remembering Brighton, the woman with the flashy gown, her frosty ice-cold stare.
“Hullo,” said Mariana, smoothing the folds of her exquisite white dress, and looked me up and down with a quick flicker of her long black lashes.
I shuffled my feet, overcome by her femininity, and was glad when Hugh said brightly, “Did you see any motorcars on the road, William?”
“Only one.”
“What fun! Mariana, we should have gone to the station with them as Papa suggested and then we would have seen a motorcar!”
“I don’t like motorcars,” said Mariana.
Mama said, “Jeanne! Don’t be shy, dear—come over and say hullo to Adrian!”
But the little girl who was standing behind the sofa only hid her face in Mama’s skirts and would not look at me.
“Ring for tea, Rose, would you?” said Papa, coming into the room. “Marcus, where’s Philip?”
There was an awkward silence.
“I don’t know, Papa,” said Marcus.
It seemed so strange to hear a complete stranger address my father as Papa. I didn’t like it. It made me feel angry.
“Well,” Papa was saying abruptly, “if Philip doesn’t want any tea that’s his business and he can go hungry. Are you hungry, Adrian?”
“Yes,” I said. “Starving.”
I must have sounded unusually belligerent, but he merely smiled at me and suggested that I go to the cloakroom to wash my hands while Finch the parlor maid was bringing in the tea.
I escaped, but instead of heading for the downstairs cloakroom I ran across the hall and raced upstairs to my room.
A baby was crying somewhere. I grimaced and, beside myself with fury at the thought of my own home being invaded by a tribe of unwanted strangers, I kicked open the door of my room with such a savage bang that it nearly fell off its hinges and walked, still trembling with indignation, into my own private sanctuary.
But it was no longer private. There was a second bed against a far wall; my book shelves had been moved; there was another chest of drawers over in the corner. I paused, simmering with resentment to see my own room rearranged without my consent, and then, aware that I was being watched, I spun around and saw the boy I had seen at Brighton.
He was sitting down. On my bed. My noisy entrance had disturbed him, for he was rubbing his eyes as if he had been asleep.
We stared at each other.
‘That’s my bed,” I said.
He did not answer. He went on staring at me.
“Get off.”
He said nothing. I was just about to grit my teeth and fly into the attack when he stood up and went over to the table. He had been writing a letter. I saw a white scrap of paper torn out of an exercise book and a series of marks made by a blunt pencil.
“Adrian!” called Mama from the hall. “Tea’s ready!”
“Coming!” I yelled. I gave the boy one last stare, but he had his back to me and did not turn around. I left him, returned slowly to the hall and caught Mama as she was emerging from her little sitting room.
“Mama,” I said rapidly, “why can’t I share with William? I don’t want to share with Philip. Why do I have to share with him?”
“Darling, you must try not to be so selfish. Poor Philip is very unhappy at the moment because he did not want to leave his mama, and his mama tried to disobey the court order and keep him, which made the whole matter even more upsetting than it was already. I
t’s very important that we show Philip that he’s welcome here and that we want him to be happy, and how is he to think he’s wanted if you refuse to share a room with him? William is sharing with Marcus and they’re getting on very well together. Marcus is such a nice boy and I’m sure Philip is too when he’s not so unhappy. Do try and like them, darling, please. For my sake. I don’t want this to become a quarrelsome, unhappy home.”
“I don’t think Papa should have brought them here,” I said stubbornly. “Why should we have to put up with them? That’s not fair. It’s bad.”
“Adrian, please. I know it’s hard not to be jealous—”
“I’m not jealous! I just can’t see why Papa couldn’t let Philip’s mother keep him if she wanted him so much! And why are the girls here anyway? I thought she was going to be allowed to keep them! What happened?”
“It’s all much too complicated to explain in detail. First of all the judge gave custody of the boys to Papa and custody of the girls to Mrs. Castallack while she remained at Papa’s house, Penmarric, but then Mariana didn’t want to stay at Penmarric without Marcus and Papa, so Mrs. Castallack tried to exchange Mariana for Philip in direct contradiction to the judge’s orders. This made the judge angry, and when Papa asked him to amend the order Mrs. Castallack opposed it in such an overwrought, ill-advised way that the judge was angrier than ever and amended the order entirely in Papa’s favor so that Papa acquired not only custody of all the children but also the right to choose whether Mrs. Castallack may see the boys or not. She is still allowed to visit the girls, and while she remains at Penmarric they will be allowed to visit her there, but she may not see the boys without Papa’s permission. It’s a most difficult and sad situation.”
“But why couldn’t Papa let her keep Philip and end the matter peacefully? I don’t understand.”
“Sometimes it’s not good for little boys to be brought up without a father.”
“You brought William and me up and Papa was hardly ever here in the beginning!”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“Darling, I really can’t go into involved explanations. You must take my word for it that it’s better for Philip not to be with his mama. Now come along into the drawing room and let’s have tea.”
I thought: Even Mama is changed. She has become secretive and impatient and even a little cross. She never used to be cross with us. Not before they came.
I felt so depressed then, so miserable, that my appetite deserted me and I could hardly eat any tea.
Afterward I shut myself up in the attic with my trains but even then I was not allowed to enjoy myself in peace. Papa came to interrupt me with Hugh.
“Hugh loves trains,” he said. “I thought you would like to show him your collection.”
“Please,” said Hugh winningly. He looked around wide-eyed at my train collection. “Papa, this is much nicer than my collection at Penmarric.”
“They’re much the same, I think,” said Papa distantly and left Hugh alone with me as he returned downstairs to join Mama.
“What a beautiful collection,” said Hugh to me sincerely as I struggled with my anger and resentment. “How lucky you are. May I play with them?”
I swallowed, making an immense effort.
“I’ll be very careful,” said Hugh. “I promise.”
“All right,” I said.
We played for a short time together but presently I felt I wanted to be alone, so I left him playing happily by himself and went outside.
William and Marcus were playing French cricket on the lawn while Mariana sat daintily on the swing and watched them. William was even laughing. I turned away abruptly toward the woods.
“Come and join us, Adrian,” called Marcus.
“No, thanks.”
“Come on!” shouted William.
I shook my head.
“Oh dear,” I heard Marcus say with a sigh, “I hope he’s not going to be like Philip. I do so hate everyone being nasty to one another.”
“Adrian,” said William with cold severity, “is never nasty to anyone.”
“Well, of course I didn’t mean …”
I moved rapidly out of earshot. In the woods I padded along to my favorite tree and climbed up to my favorite branch. It was peaceful there. I began to feel better but on my way down some minutes later I discovered that some vandal had carved the initials P.C. on the trunk.
Philip Castallack.
He had even defaced my favorite tree. I was so livid that I ran at once to the house to get a knife and immediately set to work to alter the initials. I turned the “P” into an “A” by adding a straight stroke to the right side and the “C” into a “P” by rounding it into an “O” and adding a stem.
It was at supper when I saw him again. As I entered the room he was already stuffing himself with sausages and mashed potatoes.
“Are you usually in the habit of scratching your stupid initials on every nice tree you find?” I said to him at once.
He did not answer.
“Careful, Adrian,” said William. He, Marcus and Mariana were also eating supper with us in the dining room; Papa and Mama were to dine alone together later, while Hugh and Jeanne had already had their supper in the nursery with the nursemaid and the baby Elizabeth.
I said to Philip—clearly so that he should not misunderstand, “If you carve your initials on a single tree again I’ll fight you.”
He took no notice. Marcus cleared his throat unhappily.
“Shut up, Adrian,” said William.
I was furious. “How dare you take his side!”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” said William, helping himself to another sausage. “I just don’t want everyone fighting everyone else, that’s all. It’s not worth it.”
“Horrid,” agreed Marcus with relief. “I do so hate scenes.”
“After all,” said Mariana, bored, sipping elegantly at her glass of milk, “what does one tree matter?”
“Well of course,” I said, “you’re just a girl. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh!” said Mariana. ”I’m so bored with boys! Why didn’t Aunt Rose have a girl if she had to have a baby in the first place? I wish Alice was here.”
“Who’s Alice?” said William.
“A friend of ours,” said Marcus. “She used to do lessons with Mariana at Penmarric.”
“I even wish Nanny was here,” said Mariana, squashing her mashed potato very flat. “I know I used to grumble at her but I did quite like her really. Even stupid old Miss Peach—”
“Did Papa sack Miss Peach?” said Marcus, worried. “I couldn’t gather what went on while Philip and I were at school.”
“Oh, it was ghastly,” said Mariana, stifling a yawn. “All those tedious scenes when Papa came down to Penmarric after you boys had gone back to Surrey! You can’t imagine how dreary it was. Nanny went around weeping and said she wouldn’t be parted from us but she wouldn’t go and live in any household where the mistress was a fallen woman—whatever that means—and Miss Peach sobbed and wailed and said the same thing and then Papa sacked them both on the spot before they could change their minds. Actually I think Nanny would have changed her mind because she doted on us all so much, but Papa wouldn’t have her any more because she’d been nasty about Aunt Rose. I can’t think why they should have been nasty about Aunt Rose when they hadn’t even met her. Personally I think Aunt Rose is a lot sweeter and nicer than—”
“Poor Nanny and Miss Peach,” said Marcus very quickly, “and poor Mama. How very upsetting it must have been for her. I wish Philip and I could have been there to help.”
“You wouldn’t have seen much of her even if you’d been there, because I was there and I hardly ever saw her. She spent most of the time weeping all over the place or having migraine or going to London to see lawyers. Dr. Salter kept rushing in saying, ‘Oh, Mrs. Castallack, you must rest, you mustn’t do this, mustn’t do that, mustn’t go to London, and she didn’t
take any notice. She didn’t look well, though. She looked all pale and she didn’t bother to do her hair prettily and she’d put on weight and seemed to sag so that her clothes didn’t look right on her. I heard Nanny say to Miss Peach that it was shocking for her to be in such a condition at such a time, and Miss Peach agreed.”
“Poor Mama,” said Marcus again. He looked white. “I hope she’s all right. I’m glad Nanny and Miss Peach were sorry for her.”
“You should have heard the other servants,” said Mariana. “I thought they’d be against Papa and sorry for Mama but they weren’t. They said she should have known what to expect when she married a Penmar—isn’t it funny how they always think of Papa as being a Penmar like Grandmama?—and that if she knew any better she wouldn’t be making so much fuss. They said that that’s what happened when you gave yourself airs and graces and tried to pretend to be what you weren’t. They said—”
“Shut up,” said Philip.
I was so surprised to hear him speak that I dropped my fork with a clatter. We all stared at him,
“It’s true!” said Mariana defiantly. “And if you really want to know, Nanny and Miss Peach weren’t truly sorry for her either. Miss Peach said—”
“Shut your stupid little mouth.”
“Philip, don’t,” begged Marcus. “Don’t. Please.”
“Honestly!” said William. “What a way to speak to a girl!”
“I don’t care,” said Mariana, tightening her beautiful rose-colored mouth into a hard, angry line. “He’s the last person I expect to be polite to me. I wish Mama had been allowed to keep him at Penmarric. I can’t think why Papa wanted him here anyway.”
“Look, don’t let’s talk about it any more,” said Marcus. “It’s too upsetting and when I think about it my stomach goes into a peculiar knot and I don’t even want to eat any of this nice supper. Let’s talk of something else.”
“Why don’t you run away?” said Mariana to Philip. “I wish you would. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Honestly!” said William again, appalled. “Do you usually talk to one another like this in your family?”
Penmarric Page 30
