The golden straw, p.20
The Golden Straw, page 20
And so she told him truthfully. ‘I think they were wonderful as a family, so close, yet so free, and the homeliness and lack of…’ When she paused, he said, ‘Order?’
‘No, no…pretence. That’s the word I was looking for. Your father and mother are what is termed quality, but they acted…the whole family acted like…’
Again he cut in: ‘Ordinary human beings?’
She laughed now as she said, ‘Yes. Yes, you could say that, ordinary human beings. Even Aunt Phoebe.’
‘She was funny about your hat, wasn’t she?’
The smile slowly faded from her face as she answered, ‘She was very perceptive about the hat. We had a talk about it later.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. Oh, yes. She likened it, in a way, to her bonnet.’
‘She couldn’t.’
‘Oh, yes, she did, and she was right. She said she didn’t choose her bonnet, her bonnet chose her; and it was the same, she said, with me and this hat. And, you know, in a way, she was utterly right.’
He said, ‘At one time, you know, we thought she had second sight, but then she turned out to be so wrong in most of her predictions that we didn’t take any further notice of them. But now and again she hits the nail right on the head. She’s a very special person, is Aunt Phoebe. Not likeable, not lovable, but special.’
They sat looking at each other until he said, ‘You’ll come again, then?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’d like to very much, but I feel that my visits might be misunderstood.’
‘Perhaps. They might think we are…courting. And we’re not, are we?’
‘No, Steve. No, we’re not.’
‘Well, more’s the pity, on my part, anyway. But still, I’m a patient bloke.’
‘Please, don’t let us spoil a wonderful day, and it has been wonderful. I can’t remember a time when I’ve enjoyed anything so much.’
‘As you say, don’t let’s spoil a wonderful day. But would it be spoiling it if, as a friend, I sat beside you?’
‘Oh, Steve.’ She closed her eyes, shook her head and laughed. And at that time he left his seat and sat beside her; and when he took her hand she left it in his. And so they remained for the rest of the journey, hardly exchanging a word, even though their thoughts were racing in different directions.
When she reached number thirty-five she gave an impatient gesture as she said, ‘Oh, I came out without my key and I don’t expect Alice will be back yet. She was going to visit her people. Anyway’—she smiled—‘it’ll stir the cook from dozing; the bell rings down in the basement.’ And she pressed a bell to the side of the door.
When it was opened there was the flustered cook saying, ‘Oh, miss! Look at me. I didn’t expect to have to open the door. I thought you’d have your key. Good evening, Doctor.’
‘Good evening, Cook.’
‘Dear me.’ She fussed at her blouse, saying now, ‘I haven’t even got me apron on. But it’s a good job I had it on when I answered the door before. I didn’t expect any visitor. Did you, miss?’
‘No; not at all, not today.’
‘Well, there’s a gentleman called. I told him you were away, and he left his card. There it is.’ She pointed to the table. ‘He said he would come back tomorrow; I was to tell you.’
‘Thank you. Thank you, Cook.’
‘Do you want a drink, miss?’
‘No. No, thank you.’
‘Will…will you let the doctor out when he’s goin’’—she nodded towards Steve—‘or will I come up?’
‘No. No, of course not. I’ll see him to the door, and then lock up.’
‘Ta, miss; an’ Alice’ll come the back way. Goodnight, Doctor.’
‘Goodnight, Cook.’ His voice sounded flat and remained so when he turned to Emily, saying, ‘One of your friends from the holiday?’
‘Yes. Yes, as you say, one of my friends from the holiday.’
‘You’ve lost all your colour.’
She gulped, but could say nothing; and he said, ‘I’ll be going now, then. Goodnight.’
He went towards the door and opened it, and as he did so she said, ‘Goodnight, Steve; and…and thank you.’
He made no answer, nor did he turn around, but pulled the door closed behind him. And she stood there, her teeth pressing into her lip, the card crushed in her hand, the while muttering, ‘Why had he to come today? Today of all days. I won’t see him. I mustn’t see him. I’ll tell Esther. No. No.’ She swung round. ‘Not Esther…Alice. Alice must see him.’
In the sitting room she pulled the pins out of her hat and flung it onto the sofa, and as she did so she remembered Aunt Phoebe’s words. And she turned now and looked at it. It was lying there, one part of the brim supported by a cushion. It looked a live thing, just as if it were about to spring down from the couch. If she hadn’t worn it in the first place he might not have noticed her. It was the hat that had caught his eye. She had a strong urge to pick it up and rip its brim apart. Instead, she went out of the room and up the stairs. She’d have to think, and try to be calm. She must prime Alice in the morning. She herself would keep upstairs next door all day. It was the only way.
Nine
She did not, after all, prime Alice. Her thinking in the night told her that she must face up to him and make him realise that their association was completely ended. It had ended back in the hotel. And his wife had put the stamp on it.
When Alice brought her breakfast into the dining room, she said, ‘Cor! You slept late, miss. Your tea was dead cold.’
‘I was some time in getting to sleep, Alice.’
‘Was it the excitement of yesterday? Was it a good day?’
‘Oh yes.’ She could say this honestly, and she repeated, ‘Oh, yes, it was a lovely day.’
‘Are…are his people nice?’
‘Wonderful. He has a wonderful family.’
‘Is it a big house?’
‘Oh, yes, very big and right in the country.’
‘With grounds and things?’
‘With grounds and things.’
‘Have they got a lot of servants?’
She paused here before she said, ‘Well, there were two waiting on at dinner, and there’s a cook. But I suppose there were kitchen staff, too.’
‘And have they got horses?’
‘Yes; and a very nice trap. And I think there’s a carriage.’
‘My, my! And the doctor mucking it about among the scum of Westerley Place.’
Emily looked at Alice enquiringly now, as she repeated, ‘Westerley Place?’
‘Yes, he gets down there, I’m told. Behind Piccadilly Circus, in the alleys and warrens. Me foster dad knows that quarter. Well’—she wrinkled her nose—‘he used to live there. Brought up there, I think, among rats an’ sewers…an’ stink. ’Tis terrible, can’t believe it’s just behind posh streets. There’s miles of it! Well now, get your breakfast before it gets cold. And is there anything special you want me to do this morning?’
Talking of rats and sewers, and then told to eat! Emily tutted to herself, then said quietly, ‘I’m…I’m expecting a visitor today, Alice; I don’t know what time. I should imagine it will be in the afternoon. And I should like you to be at hand somewhere around the hall to open the door to him and show him into the study.’
Alice looked at her mistress; but her mistress’s eyes were looking firmly down onto the breakfast plate, which held a slice of bacon and an egg, the latter reposing on a piece of fried bread. And it was some seconds before she said, ‘Yes, miss.’
When the door closed on Alice, Emily pushed the plate away, poured herself a cup of tea, drank it, and then another one, before rising from the table and thrusting the dining chair back into place. Then she stood gripping the top of it, her head bent over it, as she muttered words that could have been a prayer: ‘Dear God! Let me get through today.’
Paul Steerman called at three o’clock.
When Alice opened the door he smiled at her, saying, ‘Good afternoon. I have called to see Mrs Ratcliffe.’
‘Come in, sir.’
He passed her and stood in the hall looking about him as she closed the door, then said, ‘Will you come this way? I’ll…I’ll have to tell miss that you’re here.’
She left him in the study, and again he stood looking about him. And as the maid hadn’t taken his hat or gloves or walking stick, he laid the hat and gloves on a chair, and leant the walking stick against it. Then walking to the window, he looked out onto a courtyard, one side of which was framed by a coach house and various outbuildings, a row of potted ferns and such flanking one wall. There were double gates at the end of the yard.
Turning about, he now inspected the bookcases that lined two walls. Many of the books were old, dealing, it seemed, mostly with the sea and ships. But one section, he noted, held a number of modem writers. Among these books was S. Petersen’s book of poems. He took it out and was fingering the pages when the door opened, and there she stood.
Hastily he put the book down on a small table that stood to his side, and went towards her, his hand outstretched. But when she did not take it, he stood silently before her for a moment; then he said, ‘I had to come, Emily. I had to see you. Please! Will you listen to me?’
She moved from the door; then, taking a seat, she pointed to another some distance away; but still she uttered no word, because she found she couldn’t. Just the sight of him, the sound of his voice, seemed to have taken all the strength out of her, the strength of resolve to end this business finally.
He was sitting now bent forward, his hands joined on the edge of his knees, as he said, ‘Believe me, Emily, I’ve tried, just as much as you have, to put the holiday episode out of my mind, but I find it impossible. I…I don’t know why I find it so hard. Oh yes, I do.’ He now hung his head for a moment before looking at her again and saying, ‘I’ve never met anyone like you. You seemed to belong to a different species from all the people I’ve ever associated with.’
She found her tongue now. Her back was straight and her head up as she said, ‘Yes, in other words, I was out of your class, and you recognised it.’
‘Nonsense!’ He went to rise from the chair, but she lifted her hand as if to press him back. And he said, ‘It has nothing whatever to do with class, but everything to do with personality, viewpoints, honesty, that refreshing honesty that hitherto has been unknown to me. All I’m asking, Emily, is that I may come and see you, talk to you…’ Her voice cut in sharply here, ‘And be your mistress?’
‘Oh, that you would be, Emily. Oh, yes, that you would be; though not in the sense you mean. But…but I cannot hope for that, yet at the same time I can hope that you care for me a little…and I know you do. Oh, yes, I know you do; but not to the extent that I care for you. All I want you to say is we can meet and talk and…and be friends.’
Friends. There was that word again. Steve using friendship to cover love. Association with Steve would be honourable; it would mean marriage. But this man could offer her nothing but disgrace if she gave way to the weakness inside her.
Her voice had lost its sting now as she said, ‘That would be impossible and you know it. You have a wife and children. And you…you have likely had a mistress or two.’
Her mind flatly denied the latter suggestion. And when she saw him bow his head again, she said, ‘I’m…I’m sorry. But that is the way of men today; I mean, gentlemen of your class.’
After a moment he looked at her again, saying, ‘Yes. Yes, that is the way, for the needs of the body are very powerful. But that is a different thing from loving, needing companionship, needing understanding. Emily, I must tell you that what you saw before you left the hotel was a charade. For more than two years now my wife and I have lived together, yes, but have gone our separate ways. We’ve had no need of each other since my young son Robert was born. My eldest daughter Annette is now five years old and Marian’s three. There will be no more family. But my wife is very socially minded and demands that we put a face on things. And although she does not want me she is still very possessive. ’Tis a strange contradiction in her nature; and she hates to think that I might have an interest in anyone else. Our mutual friend, Mrs DeWhit, I surmise, couldn’t get back to London quickly enough to inform her that her husband was taking walks with a very attractive young woman. The result was she broke her journey to Rome, where she was to visit her married sister, and made sure she stayed long enough to put on a show for the onlookers, particularly you.’
‘Well, can’t you see it happening again? Perhaps she’s had you followed here.’
‘She’s in Switzerland at the moment, and she knows I’m in town on business, with boardroom meetings and such. And I am staying with my father, as our own house in town is closed, and my father being in a poor state of health and rather demanding of my attention, she would see no reason to have me followed…Oh, please, Emily, don’t look like that. That isn’t how I see you in my mind all the time. And you are in my mind all the time. But…but, my dear, I’m willing to comply with any of your wishes if you will only agree to my visiting you now and again.’
‘I can’t do that. It should be evident to you that I can’t, because your visits would create the wrong impression. Don’t you realise’—there was now a plea in her own voice—‘I am surrounded by my staff in both houses. What would they think? And there are those among them who would not be above probing to find out who you were, and then I would lose their esteem. You may not be able to understand their point of view, because in your eyes they are just servants, but I have friends among them, close friends. So you see, I cannot agree with your suggestion.’
‘Need they know?’
‘Need they know?’ Her voice was rising. ‘They answer the door, they let you into the house, and you say need they know?’
‘Is there no other way into this house?’
She drew her head back into her shoulders, but didn’t answer him. He was suggesting coming in the back way, furtively!
As if he was reading her mind, he said, ‘There must be a back way. And I don’t mind acting furtively as long as I’m able to see you, be with you just for a little while…You really have no idea of my feelings for you, Emily. You are like a window in my life that has been smeared for years, but has now become clean, bright, shining.’
‘Oh’—she tossed her head impatiently—‘that is nothing but romantic nonsense.’
He laughed gently. ‘That’s another part of you I find so refreshing,’ he said; ‘you say what you think. You have no façade at all, have you, Emily?’
She rose quickly from her chair; and he rose from his, saying, ‘All right, my dear; if I cannot sneak in the back way, I shall continue to call on you through your front door.’
‘Oh, please!’ She was now appealing to him. ‘If you really think of me in the way you say you do, please don’t set out to spoil my life. I, for my part, will get over any feeling that I might have for you. So, please, I beg of you…’
‘Emily!’ He was gripping her hands now. ‘I don’t want to spoil your life. I have no intention of spoiling your life, I want to bring happiness into it. Behind all the smartness of the business lady there is a very lonely young woman needing to be loved, to be cared for, and I want to be the one to do it. And we would be hurting no-one, believe me, we would be hurting no-one. Unfortunately, it would be only at odd times that I would be able to call on you, because I, too, have a business to run, one which forces me to take journeys abroad, besides the family ties.’ Immediately he could feel her hands attempting to jerk from his, and hastily he explained, ‘I am meaning my children. I am fond of my children, and they of me. It is a sort of compensation; at least, it has been up till now, until I met you.’
He was drawing her slowly to him, saying as he did so, ‘I saw a gate at the end of your courtyard. Your other house is the last one in Willington Place, I noticed, and part of it is in the other thoroughfare. As I looked for the number I saw an alleyway there. I suppose it must lead into the lane. No-one would see me come in that way, and it would just be for an hour or so, now and again. Perhaps less, just enough time to say hello…and to look at you.’
She tugged herself away from him and, turning about, laid her hands against the bookcase as if for support, and muttered half to herself, ‘I…I’ll have to think.’
‘Very well, my dear. And may I say when I next call, I will make it late in the evening, and if the back gate is open, may I assume I…I shall have my answer?’
He moved towards her now, and when he put his hand on the back of her hair and stroked it towards her cheek, she shivered.
She did not turn around, but she knew he was taking up his hat and gloves from the chair, and retrieving his walking stick as it fell to the floor; and not until she heard the door open and close did her whole body slump against the bookcase.
Her mind was in a turmoil, crying loudly that she must not give in to him; it would be the end; yet through it all there was rising the knowledge that he would find the back gate open, and that sooner or later she would become his mistress.
Ten
During the following ten days she had three visitors. The day after her emotional encounter with her would-be suitor, Kate Forester called, and they greeted each other with affection. Kate was all in black, but this conveyed nothing to Emily because her new friend had very little taste in the way of clothes. But they hadn’t been sitting together for more than a few minutes when Kate said, ‘You’re looking pale. More in need of a holiday than when I first saw you,’ to which Emily countered: ‘Well, you’re not looking very bright yourself. You look tired.’
‘Yes, I am a bit tired and I may not look bright outwardly, but I am very bright inside. I buried Mother last week.’
Emily actually started. ‘Oh, no! Oh, no! I am sorry.’
‘Now, now, Emily. Don’t let’s be hypocrites. The little you saw of her you disliked, and she disliked you more. As for me, I hated her. And inside I’m very bright. I’m not going to be a hypocrite; and what is more, I am very rich. She hadn’t a chance this time to alter her will in order to try to frighten me. She had done so several times. Last year when she thought I was really leaving her she made a will leaving everything to me, but I knew that in a very short while she would change it, as she has done over the years. Cat-and-mouse business. Anyway, I’m free to do what I like with the rest of my life that’s left to me, and I’m going to India.’
