The Watersplash

CHAPTER XII

The inquest was short and formal, and the verdict “Death by misadventure.” Mr. Ball read the funeral service, and the widow wept at the graveside in the old black coat and skirt which had been Miss Lucy Wayne’s second-best. Next week she would be going into service again, at the Vicarage. There was Joe Hodges and his wife wanting the cottage, and even if she felt as if she could stay there by herself, there were nearly all her savings spent, and better to work while she could and have the rent coming in to put by for a rainy day. Mrs. Ball might be a newcomer, but she was a real lady. Annie knew a real lady when she saw one, and if she had to go into service again she would rather it was up at the Vicarage than anywhere else. Only when you’ve had a home of your own- The tears ran down her ravaged face. She knew in her heart that she might not have had one for long. William had been a bad husband. He drank, he had begun to knock her about, and there was that girl in Embank. The cottage had been bought with her money, but it was in his name. She stood by the open grave and wept, and how many of her tears were for William, and how many were for her lost savings, and her lost hope, and her lost pride, she probably did not know herself.

The inquest and the funeral were still to come when Clarice Dean rang up the south lodge just after lunch on Saturday. The telephone was in Miss Ora’s room, so she waited till she had seen Miss Mildred go down the street, and then slipped out to the telephone-box by Mrs. Alexander’s shop. It was soundproof if you were careful to see that the door had really caught, only of course you had to remember that you were on a party line, and that anyone might be listening in. Not that it mattered in this case. She didn’t mind who heard her talking in an intimate and affectionate manner to Edward Random.

But it wasn’t Edward who answered from the south lodge, it was Susan Wayne. Clarice made a lively grimace. Was Edward never at home? She had tried for him last night, and as late as she dared. Of course Susan might be just officious, butting in and taking the call, when she was only a visitor in the house and it wasn’t any of her business. She said in her high, sweet voice,

“Oh, Susan, is that you? How nice! Have you started up at the Hall yet?”

“No-not till Monday. Did you want to speak to Emmeline?”

Clarice allowed herself a little silvery laugh.

“Well, no, darling. As a matter of fact Edward and I are fixing up a cinema, and I find I can get off tonight. Is he there?”

“No, he isn’t. He’s frightfully busy, you know, taking over from Mr. Barr.”

“But not on a Saturday afternoon! He simply can’t be-it isn’t civilized! When will he be back?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“Darling, you’re not being a bit helpful! I suppose I couldn’t ring him up at Mr. Barr’s?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“Susan, you really aren’t being any help at all! We do want this evening together so much, and it’s so frustrating not being able to get hold of him just when I’ve found I can have the time off!”

“I’m sorry, Clarice, but I don’t see what I can do. He wasn’t back last night until a quarter past ten. He might be earlier tonight, or he might not-he just didn’t say. I can tell him you rang up.”

Clarice gave that pretty, silly laugh again.

“Well, it won’t be much good if he isn’t going to be in till midnight, will it? Look here, I’ll call up again after tea. We could still go over to Embank and see the big picture and have supper afterwards. What a nuisance it is having to work! It spoils all one’s best dates, doesn’t it?”

Edward came home at half past four. Susan said,

“Clarice Dean rang up.”

“What about?”

“You and a cinema. She says she can get the evening off.”

“It’s more than I can.”

“She’ll be ringing again after tea.”

“Well, you’d better tell her-”

Susan shook her head.

“She’ll want to speak to you.”

“Say I haven’t come in.”

“Miss Ora probably saw you go by. Besides-”

“You cannot tell a lie? I remember you were really quite mentally deficient in that direction!”

Nobody likes to be accused of a virtue. Susan’s fair skin showed a decided flush.

“If people want to have lies told, I think they ought to do it themselves!”

“Well, I should do it much better than you. I’ve had more practice.”

She gave him her straight, candid look.

“Have you?”

His face darkened.

“Oh, yes-a great deal-in the best of all possible schools. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive, as the poet says! And I assure you it puts a fine edge on the practice when you know that if you do let the web get tangled it’s going to cost you your life. Atropos with the shears -and a fine clean cut across your weaving!”

She said, “Don’t!” and could have bitten her tongue out. He was talking to her, really talking, and she must needs cry out because it hurt.

And then all of a sudden he smiled that rather twisted smile and said,

“All right, you shan’t tell lies for me, and I won’t tell them to you. I don’t know whether it’s a compliment or not, but for what it’s worth, I think it would probably always be easier to tell you the truth.”

Clarice rang up at five o’clock, and this time she rang from the Miss Blakes’ sitting-room with Miss Ora and Miss Mildred lingering out the last cup of tea and stretching their ears to hear what was said. It was, of course, quite easy to hear what Clarice was saying. They were neither of them at all deaf. But to catch what was being said at the other end of the line in Emmeline’s little back room was another matter. An exasperating murmur in the throat of the instrument was all that they could distinguish. They would not even have known that the murmur was being contributed by Edward Random if it had not been for Clarice’s repeated use of his name.

“Edward! At last! Darling, where have you been all day? I was to ring you up, and I simply couldn’t get you! Susan kept on saying you were out and she didn’t know when you would be coming in! Quite maddening! Do you know, I began to have just a very, very faint suspicion that she didn’t really want us to fix up that cinema.”

As soon as he could stem this persistent ripple Edward said,

“It’s no good nourishing that sort of suspicion about Susan. She has never learnt how to tell a lie, and no one will ever be able to teach her. Very reposeful.”

“Edward-darling-it just couldn’t sound duller! But then she is a bit on the dull side, isn’t she? She always was. Worthy of course, but definitely boring. Now about this cinema. You told me to let you know, and I’ve got the evening off. So kind of Miss Ora! What about the six o’clock bus into Embank?”

At the other end of the line Edward said,

“Nothing doing, I’m afraid. I’m too busy, and I’m going to go on being busy for quite a long time.”

“Darling, that’s awfully sweet of you-to put it that way, I mean. But we’ve simply got to meet-haven’t we? I mean, Lord Burlingham can’t expect you to work all day and all night, can he? Would you like me to tell him so? He used to be rather sweet to me, you know.”

No one had ever called Edward Random dull. He could see as far through a brick wall as anybody else, and through this particular wall he became vividly aware that Clarice was ringing up on the Miss Blakes’ telephone, and that Miss Ora and Miss Mildred were almost certainly listening with all their ears and being suitably impressed with the idea that she was on the most affectionate terms with him. He became first angry, and then maliciously amused. All right, if she asked for it she could have it. He had meant to put in a good three hours’ work on the estate accounts, but they could wait, and, as Clarice had just remarked, you can’t work all day and all night. He said,

“Not on your life! But hold on-wait a minute, will you? I’ll just see what can be done.”

The pleased flush on Clarice’s face was noted by the Miss Blakes. She had not the least objection to their noticing it. She even added to the effect by smiling to herself.

Edward left the receiver dangling. He encountered Susan coming down the stairs and reached up over the banisters to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re all going to the cinema tonight.”

She shook her head.

“Emmeline won’t.”

“Then the Croft boy-what’s his name-Cyril. I want a chaperon. In fact I want two-one to talk to Clarice, and one to talk to me.”

He was still holding her wrist as she looked down, his face more alive than she had seen it yet. Quite suddenly she began to feel happy. She laughed a little and said,

“I’m no good at being a chaperon. Besides they’re all extinct, like the dodo.”

His grip tightened.

“You’re coming if I have to drag you by the hair-you’ve got a nice lot of it to take hold of. But I expect there’s enough local scandal about me already, so you’d better come quiet. Susan-”

She looked down at him, smiling.

“I’m to cling to you?”

“Like cobbler’s wax.” He let go of her wrist. “I must now go back and tell Clarice what a nice party I’ve arranged.”

Clarice had to make a very determined effort to maintain the sweetness of her voice.

“But, Edward darling-they really can’t push in like that! It’s just not done!”

In Emmeline’s back room Edward said cheerfully,

“Well, I couldn’t leave Susan out. And a party is always better fun, don’t you think? I’ll just ring Cyril, and we can all catch the six o’clock bus.”

Clarice restrained an impulse to bang down the receiver, but since Edward had already hung up, there could be no possible object in doing so. She replaced it gently and said in a plaintive voice,

“Really, some people never know when they are not wanted. Poor Edward, he is so vexed-that tiresome Susan Wayne insists on coming too.”

Miss Mildred opined that Susan was headstrong, and they had a very cosy little talk about some other defects in her character.

When Clarice went to her own room to dress she could at least feel that the Miss Blakes had been impressed with the idea that if she and Edward were not actually engaged they were pretty far gone in that direction. And what the Miss Blakes knew today Greenings would certainly know tomorrow.