The Clock Strikes Twelve

Chapter 27

In the course of the evening Miss Silver managed to converse with most of the members of the Paradine family. She found Mrs. Ambrose deeply interested in little Roger’s leggings, and consulted with her as to whether they should be left plain or enlivened with stripes of the emerald green. She also exchanged stories of Johnny, Derek and Roger, for anecdotes of Jimmy and little Rena. Irene became quite animated and told her all about not being able to wake Rena last night, and going out to find Dr. Horton, and how angry Frank had been-“Men are so unreasonable.”

Miss Silver replied that they could not be expected to understand a mother’s feelings. After which there was no ice left to break and she was told just how difficult Brenda was, and what a pity Lydia didn’t make up her mind to marry Dicky and settle down in Birleton-it would be so nice to have someone to leave the children with. Even a slight knowledge of Miss Pennington discouraged Miss Silver from believing that this would prove an inducement, but she took care not to say so.

With a little tactful prompting Irene’s tongue flowed on. Miss Paradine was wonderful-“Look how she’s keeping everything together. You wouldn’t think anything dreadful had happened. She has such self-control-I don’t know how she does it. I do envy people who have a lot of self-control. Aunt Grace is wonderful that way. I remember at Phyllida’s wedding, nobody would have guessed that she was simply broken-hearted, only of course she was. I don’t think she would have liked Phyllida marrying anyone, but of course if it had been anyone in Birleton it wouldn’t have been so bad. We used to think it would be so nice if she married Mark. He’s a very distant cousin really-Phyllida is adopted, you know-so it would have been quite all right. But marrying Elliot Wray meant a complete separation for poor Aunt Grace-I don’t wonder she felt dreadful about it. I don’t know what I shall feel like when Rena marries-I don’t like to think about it.”

Miss Silver was soothing on the subject of Rena.

“Of course I like Elliot,” said Irene, “and Phyllida was dreadfully in love with him. You know they are separated. I don’t know what happened-Aunt Grace didn’t talk about it. They were only just back from their honeymoon, and we all thought how happy they were, and then all of a sudden Aunt Grace said Elliot had gone and he wouldn’t be coming back. Poor Phyl looked exactly like a ghost. You can’t think how surprised everyone was when he walked in on Wednesday night just as if nothing had happened.”

“I can well imagine it,” said Miss Silver.

She conversed presently with Phyllida, who told her quite simply that she had come down to the study and talked with her uncle after the others had gone to bed.

“Elliot didn’t want me to tell anyone, but that wouldn’t have been right, would it? It hadn’t anything to do with what my uncle said at dinner. Elliot was afraid the police might think it had. I wanted to see Uncle James about something quite different.”

Miss Silver looked at her kindly.

“That was very natural, Mrs. Wray.”

Phyllida seemed startled.

“But I didn’t tell you-”

Miss Silver coughed.

“You would naturally wish to find out why Mr. Paradine had invited Mr. Wray, and why Mr. Wray had accepted his invitation.”

Phyllida’s colour brightened. She did not quite know what to say. While she hesitated, she met Miss Silver’s gaze. There was something about it which made her feel that it wasn’t any good to pretend or cover things up. She had a feeling of release. You don’t talk about your own very private feelings to strangers. What gave her the feeling of release was the sense that Miss Silver was not a stranger at all. She came in and sat down by your fire and made herself at home, and all as a matter of course. She said,

“I had to talk to someone.”

“And Mr. Paradine was able to help you?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Miss Silver had stopped knitting, the needles rested for a moment upon her lap. She said gently,

“I am very glad about that. Misunderstandings should never be permitted to continue.”

“I know. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding.”

Miss Silver smiled. All at once Phyllida felt as if she and Elliot were in the nursery again. They were being told not to quarrel, and they were being encouraged to kiss and be friends. She returned the smile a little shakily, and heard Miss Silver say,

“When you came away from the study, did you see anyone?”

She was taken off her guard. She was thankful that she could say no. Plainly she was startled.

A second question came quickly,

“Or hear anything, Mrs. Wray?”

This time her colour changed. She looked down, she looked distressed. She said in a fluttering voice,

“Oh, no-there wasn’t anything-”

Miss Silver did not press her. She thought there had been something, and she thought that presently she would know what it was.

The men coming in at this moment gave Phyllida a chance of escape. She caught Dicky as he passed, and left him to be talked to, or to talk to Miss Silver. She thought he bore up very well. He rather fancied himself with elderly spinsters, who invariably spoke of him as “that charming boy.” A small cold thought like a snake moved suddenly in the shadows of her mind. A shudder went over her and she looked so white that Miss Paradine threw an anxious glance.

“Come and sit down, darling, and get warm. You’ve been too far from the fire.”

She smiled faintly in reply, but instead of approaching the coffee-tray she crossed to the other side of the hearth and stood there half turned from the room in a graceful bending attitude as if she were warming herself, foot raised to the marble kerb, hand resting lightly on the cold whiteness of the marble slab.

Elliot came over to her, coffee-cup in hand… He set it down on the mantelpiece and said,

“I want to talk to you.”

The words pushed in over the thought that had robbed her of her colour. They were like someone coming into the room and banging the door. She knew Elliot in this mood. At the moment she found it heartening. Anything is better than being left alone in the dark with a snake. Still looking into the fire, she murmured,

“I don’t see how-”

He took up his cup, drained the black coffee at a draught, and set it down again.

“What’s to stop our walking out of the room together?”

Her colour rose.

“I couldn’t.”

Elliot laughed.

“Afraid of the scandal?”

“I couldn’t. Tomorrow-I’ll find a time tomorrow.”

He said in an angry undertone,

“She’s kept you running all day. It’ll be the same tomorrow, with plenty of the family handy to make sure we don’t get a minute alone.”

Phyllida went on looking into the fire. Elliot was in a very bad temper. Unreasonable to feel a pleasant glow creeping into the cold frightened place where she had been. She didn’t say anything at all. An immemorial instinct prompted the thought that it wouldn’t do Elliot any harm to wait.

Grace Paradine’s voice called her with some insistence.

“Phyl darling?”

This time she went over, her own cup in her hand, and put it down on the massive silver tray.

“Yes, Aunt Grace?”

Miss Paradine beckoned her nearer and spoke low.

“Darling, if you could just keep Brenda with you and away from Irene. Both their nerves are in such a state, and I don’t really feel I can bear much more.”

Impossible to refuse. Impossible to do anything except comply affectionately. She settled down to an evening of innuendo mounting by sharp degrees towards open accusation. Attempts to divert the conversation were useless. Whether you talked about the North Pole, the war in the East, or the latest film, Brenda managed to drag Irene in somehow. It would have been amusing if it had not been frightening. Phyllida began to wonder why Brenda and Irene should be allowed a monopoly of nerves. There was nothing in the world she would have liked better than to slap Brenda’s face and burst into tears. Only of course she couldn’t.

She went on talking about as many different things as she could think of, and Brenda went on talking about Irene.