Latter End

by Patricia Wentworth

  “Yes, I’ve polished it.” Ellie’s voice dragged.

  Two years ago she had been a pretty, fragile girl with the prettiness, the porcelain tints, and the fragility of a Dresden figure. It is not a type of looks to resist fatigue and strain indefinitely. If the Dutch mirror had not flattered her, neither had it borne false witness. She was just the ghost of Ellie Vane as she fixed her tired blue eyes on Lois’ face and said,

  “Yes, I’ve polished it.”

  “Well, those spoons could do with another rub. And-oh, didn’t I tell you to use the big silver bowl for the flowers? Jimmy likes it.”

  Ellie went on looking at her. At last she said,

  “Lois, do you mind very much about the bowl? I don’t think I’ve got time to do the flowers again.” Her voice was like herself, gentle and very tired.

  Lois’ delicate dark eyebrows rose.

  “I should have thought you would be glad to do something for Jimmy. After all”-the pretty laugh rippled out-“he’s done a good deal for you and Julia. But of course if it’s too much trouble-” She walked over to the table and stood there pulling Ellie’s flowers about, spoiling them, scattering drops of water on the polished table.

  Julia would have given battle. Ellie only looked, and said in an extinguished voice,

  “I’ll do them again. Please, Lois-you’re splashing the table.”

  When she went through into the pantry to get the silver bowl Mrs. Maniple was there.

  “What is it, dearie? Aren’t you through? What you want is a good lay-down for half an hour before they come. You’ve just about got time.”

  Kind old Manny. Ellie smiled at her gratefully. She must be quite old, because she remembered Jimmy being born, but she never looked any different or seemed any older than when Ellie and Julia used to slip into the kitchen for raisins and new hot jam, currant babies, and sugar mice. Manny made the most enchanting sugar mice, pink and green, with chocolate eyes. At five years old, a sugar mouse is heaven.

  Mrs. Maniple put a fat arm round her shoulders.

  “You run along up, my dear, and get yourself off your feet.”

  “I can’t, Manny. Mrs. Latter wants the flowers in the silver bowl, and it will have to be cleaned. It hasn’t been used for months.”

  The arm stiffened. Ellie stepped away.

  “It’s no good, Manny.”

  Mrs. Maniple held her tongue. If she couldn’t do anything else for Miss Ellie she could do that. The red-apple colour in her large, firm cheeks deepened to plum. She jerked her head over a billowing shoulder and called sharply,

  “Polly! You come here!”

  Then she took the bowl out of Ellie’s hands.

  “Go on up with you, my dear. Polly’ll see to this, and I’ll see she does it proper. I’ll put the flowers in myself, and if they’re not right, you can coax ’em when you come down. And you take and put some colour in your cheeks, or Miss Julia’ll have my life.” Her jolly laugh followed Ellie along the passage.

  She went up the back stairs because it was quicker. Manny was an angel. Something like a laugh came and went. Because she had said that to Antony once, and he had drawn a wicked picture of Manny in a stained-glass window with a voluminous nightgown bulging over her curves, and enormously strong wings just failing to hold her up.

  She was going into her room, when Minnie called her. Minnie had the room which had been Miss Smithers’, and Ellie the one she had shared with Julia for as long as she could remember.

  She pushed open the door and went in. Minnie Mercer was standing by the dressing-table doing up the brooch which had been her twenty-first birthday present from her parents, nearly thirty years ago. It had a monogram of two M’s intertwined in seed pearls, and the pearls were not quite so white as they used to be. It was her best brooch, and she was wearing her best dress in honour of Julia and Antony. It wasn’t quite so old as the brooch, and it had been very carefully preserved, but it had seen the war come in, and it had seen it go out. It could never have been what Minnie herself called “stylish,” and the rather bright blue colour was no kinder to the little thin face than was the skimpy make to the little thin body. But it was her best dress, and she took an innocent pride in it.

  As she turned round, a thought like a long sharp pin ran into Ellie’s mind-“That’s what I’m going to look like. I’m getting to look like it now. Oh, Ronnie!” Because thirty years ago Minnie Mercer had been “pretty Minnie Mercer,” or, “That pretty daughter of Dr. Mercer’s.” The features were still there, only so pinched and lined. The fair hair was still there, quite a lot of it. It would have been pretty, still, if it had been properly set and done. It wasn’t grey even now, just limp and colourless. What neither the years nor anything else had taken or could take away was the sweetness of Minnie’s smile and the kindness in her eyes. They had once been forget-me-not blue, and that was gone. But the kindness would never go. It was there, very quick and sweet, as she said,

  “Ellie darling, how tired you look. Sit down and tell me about Ronnie. How did you find him?”

  Ellie let herself down into the easy chair.

  “He’s about the same. He won’t get any better there-Matron says so. I’m going to speak to Jimmy tomorrow.”

  “He is so kind,” said Minnie, but she looked away. “I wonder whether-you don’t mind my saying this, do you, dear-I just wonder whether it wouldn’t be better to speak to Mrs. Latter first.”

  Lois was “Mrs. Latter” to Minnie Mercer, but Lois called her “Minnie”-a small matter but significant, setting them in their places as Jimmy’s wife and Jimmy’s humble dependent. It was one of those things for which Julia hated Lois. It left Minnie untouched on her own secure ground of humility.

  Ellie wrinkled her brow. She was getting into the way of it. She was only twenty-four, but already a faint line marked the fair skin. She said,

  “What’s the use?”

  “It might be better.”

  There was a brief silence. Minnie turned back to the dressing-table and began to put things straight-the comb, the brush, the mirror, which had been presents from Mrs. Vane.

  From behind her, Ellie’s voice dragged wearily.

  “She’d only say no. But if I got at Jimmy first, he might- he might-” The words petered out. No one who knew Jimmy Latter could really believe that he would hold out against Lois. He would say yes and mean it-it was always much easier for Jimmy to say yes than no. But that cut both ways, and he would find it quite impossible not to say yes to Lois, who would certainly produce a dozen excellent reasons for not giving houseroom to Ronnie Street.

  Minnie turned back.

  “Don’t worry about it now, dear. There’s a little thing I wondered whether you would do for me-”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  Minnie was looking troubled.

  “Well, dear-it was so stupid of me-but I came over a little faint when I was at the Vicarage work-party this afternoon… Oh, it was nothing-nothing at all, but Mrs. Lethbridge-you know how kind she is-well, she did say something about ringing Mrs. Latter up, and of course, dear, it wouldn’t do at all. I did my very best, but you know how she is-so kind but not very tactful-and I’m really afraid- I wondered, dear, if you would ring her up and beg her not to. She was going over to see Miss Green, but she will be back by now. You could say I was quite myself again.”

  “Yes, I’ll do it at once. She mustn’t ring up-it would make the worst sort of fuss.”

  Ellie felt quite appalled at the prospect. She ran down the stairs, but as she approached the half-open study door she discovered with a sinking heart that she was already too late. Lois’ sweet, high voice was plainly audible.

  “She fainted right away? My dear Mrs. Lethbridge-how trying for you! I’m so sorry… Yes, I know-she will do too much, and then she gets these nervous turns. Nothing to worry about of course, but-it’s most kind of you to let me know… I’ll do what I can-she’s a very obstinate person, you know.” A light laugh to soften this. “I’m afraid you
’ll have to let her off these work-parties. I shall have to be strict about that. As you say, good people are scarce-we must take care of her. Thank you so much for letting me know.”

  Ellie heard the click of the receiver. She gave a little start, turned round, and ran upstairs again. She was panting when she came into Minnie’s room.

  “Ellie, darling!”

  “Min, I was too late. Lois was there-talking-”

  “To Mrs. Lethbridge?”

  Ellie nodded.

  Minnie gave a very small sigh.

  “Well, it can’t be helped. My dear, you shouldn’t have run-you are quite out of breath.”

  “It’s nothing-it doesn’t matter. Min, you should have heard her! ‘Good people are scarce-we must take care of her!’ What Julia calls her honey-snake voice. And-oh, Min, she said Mrs. Lethbridge mustn’t count on you for the work-parties any more. But you’ll fight that, won’t you? It’s just the one pleasure you’ve got.”

  Minnie stood quite still. After a moment she said,

  “I’m not very good at fighting, my dear. And it upsets the house, and I wouldn’t want to do that.”

  Jimmy’s name wasn’t mentioned, but it was there in both their thoughts. It was Jimmy who mustn’t be upset. Minnie would do anything and bear anything to prevent that. They both knew it, but today for the first time Ellie stopped finding it a matter of course. “She feels like I do about Ronnie.” The idea just went through her mind and was gone. She didn’t stop to think about it then, but it had changed something. She wouldn’t ever quite take Minnie for granted again. She had been there for so long, they were all so used to her being devoted to them, that the quality of that devotion had never been questioned. Ellie had begun to question it.

  She saw Minnie smile in her patient way.

  “You must dress, my dear. I’ll come and help you. We won’t think of anything unpleasant tonight, with Antony and Julia coming. Such a pleasure! Why, we ought to be quite gay-”

  As they crossed into Ellie’s room, she went on talking.

  “You can’t think how pleased I am that Julia is coming here at last. It has been very, very kind of Mrs. Lethbridge to put her up when she came down to see you, but it has made a good deal of talk-her not staying here, I mean. And I am sure it has distressed your brother and-and Mrs. Latter. You’ll wear your blue-won’t you?”

  Ellie said, “Yes.”

  She hung up the cotton frock and slipped into the blue crepe-de-chine. It went on only too easily.

  “Fluff up your hair and put on a little colour, my dear. You don’t want Julia to see you looking pale.”

  Ellie was rubbing cream into her face, with a towel round her shoulders. She ought to have done it first before she put on her dress. She couldn’t bother to take it off now. That was the way it went-you scrambled into your clothes and scrambled out of them again. There was no time to do anything properly. This was the last of her face-cream. She took up the powder puff and said,

  “If Julia has a row with Lois-Min, I’m just terrified she will.”

  “Oh, my dear, she wouldn’t do that!”

  Ellie said in a despairing voice, “She might.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “She might want to have one.”

  Minnie gave a little gasp.

  “No one could want to have a quarrel!”

  “Julia could.”

  “Oh, my dear, why?”

  “To blow things up. Julia’s like that-you know she is. And she hates Lois like poison.”

  In the mirror she could see Minnie standing there just behind her. She looked almost as if she might be going to faint again. She said in a low, shaken voice,

  “Hating is poison.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The only person who really enjoyed the evening was Jimmy Latter. Everyone else was relieved when it was over, but Jimmy was as pleased as Punch. He was gregarious and sociable to the last degree. It was two years since he had had all his family round him, and it delighted him to see the table full again-Ellie on one side of him, Julia on the other, Antony next to Ellie, Minnie next to Julia, and his beautiful Lois smiling at him from the bottom of the table. It was the old family party, with Lois added. Lois-his wife-his beautiful, wonderful wife! He couldn’t imagine why she had married him, when she might have had anyone, simply anyone. But there it was-she had. And here they all were together- Antony back from abroad, and Julia-he’d felt it very much when Julia wouldn’t come and stay at Latter End, he’d felt it very much indeed. Jealousy over his marriage. Very wrong of her. But that was Julia all over-passionate, headstrong. She’d been like that from a child. But so warmhearted, you couldn’t help being fond of her. He was very fond of her, and Lois had been an angel about the whole thing. Lois was an angel, there was no doubt about that. She had been an angel about Julia-said they must just wait and she would come round. And she had. And here they were.

  Julia in red-a nice dark red, like damask roses-a jolly sort of colour-very becoming. And Ellie in blue. She looked tired, poor girl. Fretting about Ronnie. A bad business, his losing a leg like that. What a blessing she had Lois to look after her.

  Pity poor Marcia couldn’t be here too. He looked past Lois to the portrait on the far wall-Marcia Vane in a red dress, very much like the one her daughter Julia was wearing. Julia was like her-oh, decidedly. But of course not beautiful like Marcia. Pity about that. And Ellie wasn’t like her at all. Very good-looking woman, Marcia-very nice woman. Didn’t have much of a show, being left a widow twice and dying so young herself. He had been very fond of Marcia. She ought to have been here. Quite simply and regretfully he pictured Marcia and Lois living happily side by side at Latter End. And then, of course, Julia wouldn’t have gone away, and they’d all have been one happy family. But of course they had a great deal to be thankful for. And he had Lois too. He beamed at her down the table and received a charming smile in return.

  On the surface the party was quite a gay one. Lois and Antony saw to that. They kept the ball rolling, with Jimmy skipping lightly in and out of the game. Julia, if rather silent, was behaving very well. She neither frowned nor glowered, had a few things to say and said them, was polite to Lois, and affectionate to Jimmy.

  It was not at all difficult to be affectionate to Jimmy. At fifteen he had been a lighthearted, curly-headed boy. At fifty-one the description would still do very well. He was no taller, no more important. The curly hair was receding a little on the temples, but it was as fair, and there was very little grey in it.

  Mrs. Maniple had cooked them an excellent dinner. When Ellie got up to change the plates Julia got up too. It was nice to be doing things with Ellie again, and if Lois got a kick out of it, for once Julia didn’t care. She put a hand on Minnie’s shoulder to keep her in her seat and shook her head laughingly at Antony across the table.

  “No-please, everyone-I’d like to.”

  It was like old times, only it should have been Mummie sitting there at the end of the table, warm and beautiful and kind, instead of Lois in that slinky white dress which showed just what her figure was like, and how much better it was than anyone else’s. “I’m a cat about her, and that’s a fact. I don’t mind how good her figure is. Oh yes, I do, I do, I do! And she might just as well be wearing a bathing-dress! If that’s all Antony cares about, she can have him and welcome. No, she can’t-not when she’s Jimmy’s wife- Antony wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t come here if he hadn’t got over her.” Her spirits rocketed up-a long dizzy swoop with a burst of rainbow lights at the end of it.

  Mrs. Maniple, handing her a dish of eggs and mushrooms, looked at her with admiration.

  “Well, my dear, you’ve a nice colour and no mistake. Anyone ’ud think Miss Ellie was the town mouse and you was the country one. And it’s all your own too-I can see that. If those that puts it on knew half the truth there’s few that’s taken in by it. Now, Miss Ellie my dear, mind these plates, for they’re piping hot.”

  When they got back into the dining-room Jimm
y was off on one of his interminable stories.

  “So I said to Haversham-not the Haversham you remember, Antony -he died, poor chap-this is a nephew, son of the brother who went up North. Now what did he go in for- blest if I can remember. It couldn’t have been engineering, because he wasn’t any good at figures. I think it must have been a shipping-office or-well, it doesn’t matter, but this Haversham is his son. Not a bad young fellow, but of course he don’t know the first thing about farming. Started to tell me about olive crops in Italy -he was there with the Eighth Army-and what he had to say about the climate! And I said to him, ‘Well, you know, Haversham, olives are olives, and all very well for the Eyeties, but they won’t grow here, and that’s that…’ ” The story flowed along. It entertained Jimmy tremendously, and it never got anywhere.

  Instead of being bored, Antony found himself at his ease as he had not been for years. It was all so much the stuff of which he had been shaped and made-the family party, the girls coming and going, Jimmy so pleased that you couldn’t help being pleased, too. What did it matter if his stories never got anywhere? People who could tell a good story are three a penny. It was only among your own people that you didn’t need to shine, because that wasn’t what mattered. Your own people were your own people. You could take them for granted, and be taken for granted by them. The bosom of the family was an extraordinarily restful place.

  In the middle of this he turned his head and caught a glance from Lois. It was as bright and hard as a diamond. It despised Jimmy. It beckoned Antony to despise him, too. Suddenly and fiercely he hated her for an alien.

  When dinner was over Lois trailed away to the drawing-room, taking the two men with her- Antony ’s attempt to stay behind and make himself useful receiving no encouragement from anyone, and Jimmy’s “No, no-the girls will see to it” being reinforced by Julia’s “Run away and play- you’ll only be under our feet.”

  Out in the pantry she turned to Ellie.

  “How many take coffee? I don’t, for one, so it’s no use putting on a cup for me. Which are you using?”