Latter End

CHAPTER 13

Antony went down to Latter End next day. He didn’t want to go, his every instinct warned him against going. But he went. It wasn’t Julia’s asking that took him there. He had found it hard to say no to her, but he had said it. He hoped he would have stuck to his no, but he was to have no means of telling, for that evening Jimmy rang him up. No to Julia was possible, if difficult. No to Jimmy became quite impossible during the three minutes of that country call.

“I’ve a very particular reason for wanting you to come. The fact is I want to talk to you-about the girls. They’ll have to have some money. Old Eliza Raven left me a little-you know I went down to settle her affairs. Well, I want the girls to have it. Thought perhaps you’d be trustee. And then there’s Minnie-I’m very unhappy about Minnie-I don’t mind saying so. I’ve got to talk to you.”

Not possible to go on saying no. Afterwards he was to wonder what difference it would have made if he had. It might have made a very dreadful difference, or it might have made no difference at all. The part which depended upon a guilty premeditation may have been already fixed. The part which depended upon the turn of a chance might still have turned the way it did. Or there might have been no chance at all, in which case the tragedy would have been so much the deeper. Just how much Antony ’s presence at Latter End contributed to the event, he never found it possible to decide. The only thing certain was that had he known what lay ahead he would, even at the last moment, even in the village of Rayle itself, have turned his car about and gone back to town.

He took Julia down with him. As far as she was concerned, the barometer had risen, the sky was clear, and the sun shone. The fact that it was one of those unseasonable weeping September days made no difference. She carried her weather with her, and when Antony and she were together there were no dull days. There might be a storm, there had been one or two earthquakes and an occasional conflagration, but there were also floods of sunshine and quite enchanting rainbows. Today it didn’t matter to her in the least that the rain fell, and that when they emerged into the country their view was bounded by dripping hedgerows and curtains of white mist. You could always talk. Julia talked.

“Lois had had one in the eye anyhow.”

“Darling-your English style!”

She laughed.

“I know! But you’ve got to take a holiday sometimes. If you don’t you get all clamped up and stiff. I’m frightfully particular on paper.”

“Dulce est desipere in loco! All right-who’s been giving Lois one in the eye?”

“Jimmy. He met old Hodson down the lane, and Hodson let him have it-really good stuff on the lines of ‘It wouldn’t have happened in your father’s day, nor yet in your grandfather’s-taking the roof from over a poor man’s head to let foreigners in!’ All that sort of thing. And all Jimmy could do was to stand there and gape. And when he said, ‘But I thought you wanted to go to your daughter-in-law,’ Hodson came back at him with ‘And who told you a dirty lie like that, Mr. Jimmy?’ ”

Antony whistled.

“What happened after that? By the way, how do you know all this?”

“I was there. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much. Jimmy told Hodson there had been a misunderstanding, and that the cottage was his for as long as he wanted it. Then he went home and blew right up. I got out of the way, but not before I heard him tell Lois that she must leave the management of the place to him. I hope it will do her good.”

“A pious hope can do no harm,” said Antony drily. “When did all this happen?”

“Just before I came up. Antony, it’s Minnie I’m miserable about. I think Ellie will be all right if we can get her through the next six months. Jimmy is going to give her an allowance, and if she can get a room at Brighton she’ll be able to see Ronnie every day, and she won’t have all this housework which is wearing her out. I think she’ll be all right-I’ve got to think she will, or I shall blow right up. But Minnie-she’s proud, you know, though she’s so gentle. She won’t take money from Jimmy-I believe she’d rather die. That’s what frightens me-she hasn’t got anything to live for. And she looks desperate-Jimmy’s awfully unhappy about it. The only person who can do anything is Lois. I suppose you couldn’t say something?”

Antony frowned at the long, wet road running on into the mist.

“I did.”

“Any good?”

“I thought so at the time. At least I thought there was a possibility. Now I don’t. The fact is, Minnie has got on Lois’ nerves, and when that happens it’s the end-no good arguing about it. There’ll be a clean sweep, and we’ll all start fresh. I don’t suppose Latter End will see very much of any of us after this.”

Julia was silent for a long time. Then she said,

“It’s rather an-amputation, isn’t it? I oughtn’t to feel it, because I haven’t been down there so much, but it hurts all right. It’s stupid of me, but one of the things I mind most about is Mummie’s picture hanging there on the wall behind that woman’s chair. It hurts like hell.”

“Jimmy would give you the portrait if you asked him for it.”

The dark colour rushed into her face.

“I couldn’t do that! It would be like turning Mummie out- for her!”

They drove in silence for a while, the mist closing them in. It was like being together in a room with white walls, a room so small that they could not move away from one another. He was aware of her thoughts-the colour and rhythm of them coming up out of warm depths. What Julia was aware of she kept to herself. Presently she said,

“I wish we were going anywhere else.”

He gave her a light answer.

“Wishes are cheap. Where would you like to go?”

“To Latter End ten years ago.”

Antony laughed.

“I’ve just left school, and you and Ellie are fourteen.”

“And there isn’t any Lois. It would be heaven, wouldn’t it?” Then, with sudden energy, “Do you know what she has done now? She’s got that odious Gladys Marsh in the house.”

“What’s happened to Joe?”

“Gone down to a sister in Devonshire. There’s supposed to be some idea of his going into his brother-in-law’s business. The fact is, he’s up against it in the village-everyone’s crying shame on him about his mother. And Gladys hates Rayle-they’d like to get out. The sooner the better, I should say. But meanwhile there’s Gladys at Latter End, putting onthe most awful side you ever saw.”

“What is she supposed to be doing there?”

“Odds and ends of sewing, maiding Lois-and whether she’s supposed to or not, she listens at doors. Ellie did dig her toes in and say she must do her own room, but there was some head-tossing over it-‘I don’t know, I’m sure. Housework is so bad for the hands, and not at all what I’m accustomed to.’ ” Julia gave an angry laugh. “I told Ellie I’d scream the house down if she gave in, so she stuck it out. Gladys now gives a perfect imitation of gentility with a mop and a duster-little finicky dabs and flicks, as if she’s never done a room in her life.”

Antony put out his left hand and let it rest for a moment on Julia’s knee.

“Darling, do turn off the gas and simmer down! If you go on boiling up like this you’ll boil over, and then the fat is going to be in the fire, which none of us particularly wants. Suppose you tell me about the new book instead.”

She gave him a look, half angry, half melting.

“There isn’t any new book.”

“There seemed to be a lot of well-inked paper lying about on your table.”

“It’s not a book-it’s a mess. I can’t write when things are happening.”

But she began to tell him about it all the same.