The Silent Pool

Chapter Sixteen

Ninian stayed the night in town. He rang up at seven, demanded Janet on the nursery extension, and was rather lavish with the time.

‘Is the child in bed?… Good! I thought I had calculated rather neatly. Now listen! The linoleum is quite a pleasing shade – wear and tear negligible. And the curtains are a bit of all right. How good will you be at visualizing them from a description? Just turn on the imagination.’

‘Meriel told me this morning that I haven’t got any. I’m the fortunate possessor of a perfectly commonplace mind, with none of the perceptions which are such a burden to sensitive people.’

She heard him laugh.

‘Never mind, I’ll come back tomorrow and protect you. Now do your best about the curtains. The bedroom is north-east, and the ones there are a nice creamy yellow with a pattern of hollyhocks. Calculated to give the illusion that the sun is shining even if it hasn’t let out a blink for days. Quite nice to wake up to, don’t you think?’

‘Ninian-’

‘Darling, don’t interrupt. You are supposed to be listening. I was rather taken with the living-room curtains. A pleasing shade of green, and lined, so they oughtn’t to fade. They really are a good colour – very restful to the eye. So I’ve taken the plunge and told Hemming we’ll have the lot. I hope you approve?’

‘Ninian-’

‘It will be your own fault if you don’t, because I wanted you to come up with me, and you could have managed quite easily. So when – or shall we say if – you wake up and hate the hollyhock curtains, you will just have to remind yourself that you rushed upon your doom.’

‘Ninian-’

‘Woman, let be! This is my show, and I want to talk. It is your part to listen – resign yourself to it! I have also said I will take over-’ He proceeded to waste time in enumerating things like a front door mat, a kitchen cupboard. ‘His aunt has things like that built in – superiority of Scottish houses! Also a rack for drying clothes, and two more or less fitted book-cases.’

As he described all these things in minute detail with comments and interjections obviously designed to draw her fire, Janet considered that she would really be thwarting him better if she just held her tongue. There is nothing quite so damping as to let off fireworks with no one to scream or say ‘Oh!’ when they go up. He had been talking for quite a time before he checked to say,

‘Darling, you’re still there?’

Janet said, ‘Just.’

‘I thought you might have swooned with ecstasy.’

‘At hearing you talk a lot of nonsense? There’s nothing so very new about that.’

‘Darling, that came out pure Scots.

‘ “The accents of the Doric tongue

Upon her lightest murmur hung-”

‘I believe those beautiful lines to be original, but I won’t swear they were not written by Sir Walter Scott in one of his more exalted moments.’

‘I shouldn’t think it at all likely!’

‘Darling, I could listen to you all night, but the pips are mounting up. Oh, by the way, I see in the evening paper that the leading man in Star’s play has been rushed to hospital with a broken leg and the opening is put off. They’re going to fill in with a revival of something or other until he is all right again. Rather a knock for Star – she was building a good deal on this show. I wonder if she’ll come back.’

‘Won’t she be in the thing they are putting on?’

‘Oh, no, not her line – it’s a Josefa Clark play. Darling, this is a most expensive call. Good-night! Dream about me!’

The house next day took on all the more trying features of the pre-party rush. Mrs Simmons displayed the temperament upon which great cooking rests as surely as do the other major forms of art. It is sad to reflect that the hand so light upon pastry and soufflé should drag so heavily upon the reins of office. There is a certain flush which when it reaches the forehead may be regarded as a danger signal. There is a tone in the voice at which the boldest of domestic helps hastens upon the errand assigned and does not dream of answering back. Simmons, a husband of many prudent years standing, knew better than to be what his wife would have stigmatized as ‘under foot’. He returned to his pantry, where he marshalled drinks and polished the cocktail glasses until they shone like crystal.

It was left to Edna Ford to precipitate a storm which might otherwise have been averted. Constitutionally unable to let well alone, she came fretting into the kitchen at a delicate moment in the creation of the cheese straws which were Mrs Simmons’ pride. Undeterred by a portentous frown, she burst into fluttered speech.

‘Oh, Mrs Simmons, I hope you are not doing too much. Miss Ford was particularly anxious – I understood she had made it quite clear – those are cheese straws you are making, are they not?’

In a voice that matched the frown Mrs Simmons said, ‘They are.’

Edna pushed at a wisp of hair that had straggled down on to her cheek.

‘Oh dear,’ she said, ‘I quite understood that Miss Ford had ordered all the savouries from Ledbury. I know she was most anxious you should not be overburdened.’

Mrs Simmons’ fingers paused on the pastry knot she was twisting.

‘Bought cheese straws is what we’ve never had, not since I’ve been in this house, and if they come in, I tell you fair and square, Mrs Ford, that I go out! Now, if you don’t mind letting me go on with my work-’

‘Oh, no – no – of course not. I just came to see if there was anything I could do.’

‘Nothing except to let me get on, Mrs Ford, if you don’t mind.’

Edna transferred her attentions to Mrs Bell who was doing the drawing-room, and succeeded in making her so nervous that she broke a Dresden figure which had been the gift of an archduke in those distant days when there was still an Austrian Empire.

Over her elevenses Mrs Bell bewailed the tragedy.

‘Enough to upset anyone’s nerves, her coming right up behind you and saying, “Oh, do be careful!” And I’m sure there isn’t anyone in the world carefuller with china than what I am. Why, I’ve got my great-grandmother’s tea-set that she had for a wedding present a hundred years ago this spring, and there isn’t a piece so much as chipped. And I’m still using a frying-pan what my grandmother had.’

‘Then it’s time you had a new one,’ said Mrs Simmons.

Janet, asking Adriana whether she could be of any use, was advised to choose the lesser of two evils.

‘If you offer to help Meriel with the flowers, she’ll probably stab you with the gardening-scissors. If you don’t help her, the worst she can say is that no one ever gives her a hand. I should advise you to play for safety.’

Janet looked unhappy.

‘Why is she like that?’

Adriana shrugged.

‘Why is anyone like anything? You can pick and choose among the answers. It’s written in your forehead, or in your hand, or in the stars. Or someone thwarted you when you were in your cradle and it struck you crooked. I think I really prefer Shakespeare-

‘ “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves that we are underlings.“

‘Of course, what’s wrong with Meriel is that I’ve never been able to lead her aside and tell her she is the romantically illegitimate offshoot of a royal house. If she tries me too high, I shall probably some day tell her what she really is!’

Janet said, ‘Oh-’ on a caught breath because the door behind Adriana had swung open. Meriel stood there, her face white, her eyes wide and blazing. She came forward slowly, a hand at her throat, and did not speak.

Adriana made an embarrassed movement.

‘Now, Meriel-’

‘Adriana?’

‘My dear, there’s really nothing to make a scene about. I don’t know what you think you heard.’

Meriel’s voice came in a whisper.

‘You said if I tried you too high you would one day probably tell me what I really was! I ask you to tell me now!’

Adriana put out a hand.

‘My dear, there is nothing much to tell. I have told you that often enough, but you don’t believe me because it doesn’t fit in with your romantic fancies.’

‘I demand that you should tell me the truth!’

Adriana was making an unusual effort at control. She said,

‘We have had all this out before. You come of quite ordinary people. Your father and mother were dead, and I said I would look after you. Well, I have done it, haven’t I?’

Meriel flared.

‘I don’t believe you! I don’t believe I come of ordinary people! I believe I’m your daughter, and you’ve never had the courage to own me! If you had, I might have respected you!’

Adriana said in a quiet voice,

‘No, I am not your mother. If I had had a child I should have owned it. You must believe me when I tell you that.’

‘Well then, I don’t! You’re lying just to spite me!’ Her voice had risen to a scream. ‘I’ll never believe you – never – never – never!’ She ran out of the room and banged the door behind her.

Adriana spoke in a voice of cold rage.

‘Her father was a Spanish muleteer. He stabbed her mother and himself. The baby was a pretty little black-eyed thing. I took it – and trouble enough with it.’

Janet stood there, shocked and silent. After a minute Adriana reached out and touched her.

‘I’ve never told anyone. You won’t speak of it?’

Janet said, ‘No.’