Vanishing Point

CHAPTER 31

Up at Crewe House Rosamond moved as if she were in a dream. The night lay before her like the river of Jordan, dark, and narrow, and fleeting. She had only to cross it, and she and Jenny would be free of their house of bondage. Only those twelve dark hours to cross, and the promised land would be theirs. Sometimes her thoughts were so light and joyful that she felt as if they had the power to lift her over a longer, darker passage than this. Sometimes she looked towards the morning and found it very far away. She had not as yet said anything to Jenny, either about her going to school or about Craig. Since Jenny would not now be going to the school which Lydia Crewe had chosen for her, there was no need to trouble her about it. If she were not afraid, she would be angry, and in any case violently disturbed. Rosamond wanted her to sleep and be ready for what she would have to be told next day. It wouldn’t disturb her, but she would be very much excited, and she must have a good night’s rest.

Her efforts to get Jenny to bed early were extremely unsuccessful. Jenny wanted to listen to the wireless, she wanted to finish her book, she wanted to talk, she rejected with vehemence the idea of being sleepy. Her eyes sparkled and her tongue ran nineteen to the dozen.

“There’s the kind of night you want to rush into bed and snuggle down and get into a nice comfortable dream, and there’s the kind when you want to go out and dance in the wind. There’s a lovely swoopy sort of wind tonight. I can hear it whooshing round the house like a lot of mad galloping horses. I expect it’s what used to make witches get their broomsticks and fly up the chimney. Mustn’t it have been fun! I’d have loved to be a witch and go rushing over the housetops!”

“Jenny, it’s getting late.”

Jenny put out her tongue. Her eyes danced and her hair glittered.

“Oh, no, it isn’t. You know, Rosamond, what’s the matter with you is that you’re a born fuss. Come and have breakfast- come and have supper-come and have lunch-come along to bed-all day and every day! And if you think I don’t get bored with it, you can think again! I get as bored as being stuck in the middle of a mud swamp and nothing to do except wonder how soon an alligator will come and eat me. Darling, wouldn’t Aunt Lydia make a lovely crocodile!”

Rosamond was just going to say “Jenny!” again, when Lydia Crewe’s bell rang. Jenny said, “Blast!” and was reproved with a shake of the head as Rosamond ran out of the room.

Lydia Crewe didn’t like being kept waiting. Even now she was not in the best of tempers. She was in her chair, sitting very bolt upright and tapping on the arm of it with bony fingers.

“I wished to ask you if you had spoken to Jenny.”

“Not yet, Aunt Lydia.”

“And why not?”

Rosamond came a little farther into the room.

“I didn’t want to upset her.”

“Why would she be upset? It’s high time all this spoiling and cockering came to an end! Do you imagine that Jenny can go through the world in cotton wool?”

“I thought it would be better for her to have a good night’s rest.”

Miss Crewe said sharply,

“If she would give herself the chance! You will remember to lock her in. Fortunately, there is no way in which she can get out of the windows. You were both very much annoyed when I had the bars put in. As I told you at the time, I do not approve of young girls sleeping on the ground floor without proper protection. I suppose you will now admit that I was right.”

“Aunt Lydia -”

“Well?”

“It-it would upset her dreadfully to be locked in.”

“Why should she know anything about it? She won’t unless she tries to go out, and if she does that she will deserve to be upset. You don’t really imagine that she can be allowed to run about the fields by night?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you will do as I say! You can lock the door after she is asleep and open it before she wakes in the morning. It is all perfectly simple, and you will see that it is done. You can go and get my hot milk now, and then I don’t suppose I shall be wanting you again.”

By the time she had heated the milk and brought it up Miss Crewe was in her bedroom. She put a hand round the communicating door to take the cup and shut it again at once. There was to be no more talk. And this was the last time that Rosamond would do this errand and get no more than that harsh goodnight for thanks. The thought startled her. It didn’t seem as if the endless service could be ending here. She picked up the tray with its other two cups of milk and went along the passage to Jenny’s room.

When she came in, there was no Jenny-just a hump in the bed and a stifled giggle from under the eiderdown. Then, as she turned to set down the tray, back went the bedclothes and Jenny was up like a jack-in-the-box, her bright hair tossing.

“Say I’ve been quick! I have, haven’t I? And my things all neatly folded! ‘Virtue Rewarded, or the Piece of Chocolate’ is what I should call it if it was a story I was writing! Like those heavenly books that belonged to Aunt Lydia ’s mother when she was a Sweet Young Girl! Darling-can you imagine Aunt Lydia as a sweet young girl, or a nasty little one, or all wrapped up in long clothes like they used to with babies! And woollen veils over their faces because of the fresh air being so deadly! There was one in the photograph album Aunt Lucy brought to show me, and I don’t see how the baby could breathe at all! No wonder such a lot of them died!”

Jenny drank her hot milk, and then suddenly in the middle of her chatter she began to yawn and was pleased to allow herself to be tucked up and kissed good-night.

Rosamond went back to her own room and thought about locking the door. She hadn’t said she wouldn’t, and she hadn’t said she would. She had never done such a thing before, and she didn’t want to do it now. If Jenny woke in the dark and found that she couldn’t get out, it might do something dreadful to her. There was something about being locked in that could bring up all the prisons in the world and loose their dreams upon you. She made up her mind to leave the door alone. Now that Jenny was in bed, she could put some of their things together-not really pack them, but sort them out and get them ready to pack. She moved to and fro in the room. When there was no more to do, she undressed and lay down in her bed. She had no thought that she would sleep, but no sooner was her head upon the pillow than she had no more thought at all. All that had come and gone with her was lost in a formless mist.