The Silent Pool

Chapter Seventeen

Stella talked about the party all the way home from the Vicarage.

‘I can wear my new dress that Star got me just before she went away, it’s a sort of yellow. I like it because it hasn’t got frills. I hate frills. Miss Page has got a dress with frills – she’s going to wear it this evening. It makes her look all fluffy like a doll on a Christmas tree, only black. She put it on, and Mrs Lenton pinned up the hem, and she said, “Oh, Ellie, you look like a picture!” I think that was a silly thing to say – don’t you? Because there are all sorts of pictures, and some of them are ever so ugly.’

Janet laughed.

‘Mrs Lenton meant that Miss Page looked nice.’

Stella made a face.

‘I don’t like black dresses. I won’t wear one ever. I’ve told Star I won’t. I don’t know why Miss Page has one.’

‘Fair people look nice in black.’

‘Miss Page doesn’t. It makes her look like that pink dress I had which the colour all washed out of and Nanny said it would have been better if Star had tried a bit of the stuff first and washed it. Joan Cuttle says Miss Page has gone off something dreadfully.’

‘Stella, it isn’t very nice to repeat things about people.’

‘No – Star says so too. But Miss Page used to be much prettier and nicer than she is now. Jenny Lenton says she cries in the night. She told Mrs Lenton, and she put her and Molly into another room. They used to sleep with Miss Page, but they don’t any more because it kept them awake. Isn’t it nice it’s such a fine warm day? Jenny said you wouldn’t know it wasn’t summer, but I told her that’s silly because of the flowers. You don’t have dahlias and michaelmas daisies in the summer, do you?’

By dint of encouraging these horticultural speculations it was possible to get home without any more embarrassing confidences on the subject of Ellie Page.

It was indeed one of those early autumn days which are sometimes hotter than anything conceded by July. Edna Ford, under the necessity of having something to worry about, now concentrated upon the unseasonable temperature.

‘Adriana never makes proper lists of who has accepted and who has refused, but I believe she has asked about two hundred people, and if even half of them come the drawing-room will be unbearably hot, because she won’t have the windows open – at least I suppose she won’t. She always says she had enough draughts when she was on the stage and she means to be comfortable now. Only once the curtains are drawn, perhaps she wouldn’t notice if a window was opened behind them. I could ask Geoffrey to see about it. But of course if she did notice, it might make her very angry. You see, as soon as the lights are on inside, the curtains will have to be drawn. There is nothing she dislikes so much as being in a lighted room with the curtains open. It’s quite a thing with her. So really I think I shall have to speak to Geoffrey and see what he can do.’

By a little after six the drawing-room was beginning to fill. The day was still warm, but it was clouding. Adriana stood to receive her guests, her head high, her pose gracious. Behind her the fine old fireplace was banked with flowers, and an antique carved chair stood ready to support her when she should feel in need of rest. She wore a grey dress of great elegance, with a diamond flower on her shoulder and three rows of exquisite pearls. As the light faded and the great chandeliers were turned on, her hair caught the glow and reflected it. The colour was certainly a work of art, as was the flawless tinting of her skin.

Poor Mabel Preston came off a very bad second. Since her last visit she had reduced her straw-coloured locks to a messy imitation of Adriana’s deep copper-beech red, and she had been unwisely lavish with powder, rouge and lipstick. The black and yellow dress was a disaster. Ninian, penetrating the crowd and arriving by dint of perseverance at Janet’s side, gave one glance at her and murmured,

‘Queen wasp! They should all be destroyed quite early in the year.’

‘Ninian, she is pathetic.’

He laughed.

‘She is enjoying herself like mad. You look very handsome, my sweet.’

‘Star didn’t think so. She said I was like a brown mouse in this dress.’

‘I like brown mice. Nice companionable little things.’

Janet ignored this.

‘It’s useful, because no one remembers it,’ she said.

He was looking across the crowd.

‘Hullo, Esmé Trent is very smart! I wonder whether Adriana asked her, or whether she gate-crashed.’

‘Why should she?’

‘Up-and-coming sort of girl – she might think it a joke.’

‘I mean, why shouldn’t Adriana ask her?’

He cocked an eyebrow.

‘Dear Geoffrey might be led astray. Or dear Edna might have issued an ultimatum. Some day, you know, she’ll go right off the deep end, and Adriana will be bored stiff. Geoffrey amuses her, but she expects him to keep within bounds. What are the odds he slips into the garden with Esmé as soon as it’s dark enough to be safe?’

It was later on, when Simmons had drawn the long grey velvet curtains and the dusk was deepening outside, that Janet was making her way back to the table at the end of the room with a tray in her hand. The cheese straws and small savouries she had been offering had run low, and she was coming back to renew the supply. The easiest way to get along was by the wall on the window side. The three recesses afforded elbow-room, and at any rate you could only be bumped from one direction.

But just by the last of the windows she became hemmed in and could get no farther. A solid block of people was pressed against the table beyond her, all talking at the top of their voices and forming an impenetrable barrier. She was forced up against the curtain, the thick velvet touching her cheek, and beyond it from the window recess voices came to her.

By some trick of acoustics these voices did not merge with the babel in the room. They were detached and clear. Ellie Page said, ‘Oh, Geoffrey darling!’ and Geoffrey Ford said, ‘My dear girl, do take care!’

Janet went hot and cold. She couldn’t move away. She couldn’t even put her fingers in her ears because of the tray she was holding. If she coughed or shook the curtain, they would know that they had been overheard.

Ellie said, ‘Couldn’t we slip out? I heard her asking you to open a window. No one would miss us.’

‘I can’t possibly. It would be madness.’

‘I must see you!’

‘You saw me last night.’

So it had been Ellie Page down there in Edna’s sitting-room at two in the morning – Ellie Page.

Ellie said on a sob,

‘You sent me away-’

‘Well, if you want to ruin us both-’

‘Oh, I don’t!’

‘Then you’ve got to be patient.’

There was another sob.

‘How long is it going on?’

He said in an exasperated tone,

‘What is the good of asking me that? If I leave Edna, Adriana will cut off supplies – she has told me so right out. Well, we can’t live on nothing, can we?’

Someone moved on Janet’s left and she stepped into the gap. That poor wretched girl – what a mess! She pushed and prodded her way up to the table and set down the tray.