The Girl in the Cellar

CHAPTER 39

Anne got home at half-past six. When she had taken off her things she came downstairs, to find Lizabet and no Janet. She had gone out to see a friend who had been ill.

‘And if you ask me, I think she’s an idiot to put herself about for people like she does. If you start propping people you can just go on and they get worse instead of better- that’s what I think. But I suppose you approve.’

‘Why do you suppose that?’

‘I wonder why-’ Lizabet had a book on her lap, but she wasn’t reading. ‘Oh, just what’s sauce for the goose might be supposed to be sauce for the-oh, but I mustn’t say that, or you’ll tattle to Janet, and then I shall get into a row, and you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Anne came back from a long way off. She said steadily, ‘Look here, Lizabet, you don’t like me, and you don’t like my being here. Well, I’m not going to stay, so you needn’t bother.’

Lizabet screwed up her face.

‘Sez you!’

Anne kept her temper.

‘Well, I’m the one who knows. You don’t like me, but I take it you do like Janet-you’re fond of her. Couldn’t you put up with me for a bit just to please her? I’m looking for a job.’

‘You’ve got one.’

‘It’s not permanent. You must know that. It’s just for the fortnight Miss Lushington will be away. There won’t be any opportunity of our seeing much of each other.’

‘Only in the evenings,’ said Lizabet with a toss of the head.

‘And every morning before you go. It makes me sick to see Janet waiting on you!’

‘She doesn’t.’

Lizabet tossed her head.

‘You wouldn’t notice of course!’

Janet came in just before seven.

‘Poor Magda,’ she said, ’she’s in the most dreadful dumps.’

‘And of course she’s got to unload them on you!’ said Lizabet.

Janet coloured.

‘Oh, well,’ she said in a placatory voice. Then she laughed. ‘I didn’t mean to bring it home with me.’

Still without looking up from her book, Lizabet was heard to murmur, ‘You do rather bring them home with you, darling, don’t you?’

In the morning Anne went back to Miss Carstairs. The evening had convinced her that she must find somewhere else to live. She would talk to Janet about it. Lizabet was tiresome, and it was no good trying to alter her. Talking to her only made her worse. She was quite convinced that she meant mischief of some sort, and everything that she said or did added to this conviction. It’s no good struggling with that sort of thing, you must just keep clear of it, or as clear of it as you can. She wasn’t prepared to give up her friendship with Janet, but there was no need for it to be under Lizabet’s observation. By the time she reached Miss Carstairs’ rooms she had the whole thing nicely settled in her mind.

When Mrs Bobbett opened the door to her, she made her enquiry.

‘Mrs Bobbett, do you know of anything that would suit me? I’m afraid I can’t pay very much, but I’d do my own room, and I’d be very willing to help in any other way I could.’

Mrs Bobbett stood still on the stairs and thought.

‘What sort of room do you want?’

‘Oh, just somewhere to sleep. You see, I don’t know quite what I’m going to do yet, and I mustn’t spend too much. I just want to be sure that it’s all right.’

Mrs Bobbett looked down and looked up again.

‘There’s a room upstairs you could have. It’s small and the roof slopes, and I don’t generally let it and that’s the truth. Sort of a spare room, that’s what it is. I’m next door myself, and when my niece comes up from the country I put her there. If you’d like to see it-’

The room was small, but exquisitely tidy and clean. Anne told Mrs Bobbett that she would take it, and went down to Miss Carstairs with a feeling of exhilaration which dropped suddenly from a full peak of almost breathless confidence into a vague feeling of distress. She didn’t know what it was, or where it came from. It wasn’t like her at all, but she couldn’t shake it off. It stayed with her and tinged the day with foreboding.

She told herself it was the weather. They were all ready to go out, when the rain came down and Miss Carstairs said crossly that she never went out when it was raining.

‘I don’t know why we put up with this climate at all! I should think when they’re always inventing things they might just as well do something about the weather! Rain so many days, and at night, instead of in the morning when one wants to go out and do things!’

‘Everybody would want something different,’ said Anne. ’People who were going out in the evening wouldn’t want it to be wet then. And who would decide when it was to rain? Nothing they did would suit everyone, and the people it didn’t suit would get up societies, and processions, and meetings.’

‘Well, that would be something to do, wouldn’t it?’ said Miss Carstairs crossly. Then she made a face and burst out laughing. ‘You know, I hate to be dull. When I’m at home I can do all sorts of things-turn out old letters, old photographs. There’s a lot in doing that. You can make the past live again, and some of it wasn’t too bad. But when I’m away from home I expect to go about and enjoy myself. And frankly, it’s a relief getting rid of Ada -for a bit anyhow. I wouldn’t like to feel I wasn’t going to see her again or anything like that, but there are times when I can do without her. And my conscience doesn’t bother me when she’s gone on her own affairs. Perhaps you didn’t think I’d got a conscience, but I have.’

It cleared up after lunch, and they went out. Anne, urged by Miss Carstairs, bought the stuff for two nightgowns.