Through the Wall

Chapter 10

Helen Adrian arrived at Cove House on the following day. In some extraordinary way her presence immediately pervaded it. A scent of violets came and went, clashing a little with the naphthalene which was Mrs. Brand’s specific against moth. It even came over into Marian’s side of the house, which was mercifully free from moth-ball, Martin Brand having disliked the smell, maintaining that there had been no moths in his mother’s time, and that she used nothing but lavender to ward them off. To which Eliza Cotton had been wont to respond that some people drawed them.

The violet scent was only one manifestation of Miss Adrian’s presence. The shutters were open and the curtains drawn back in the drawing-room. The sound of the piano could be heard continually, and the notes of a high and lovely voice went floating up, and up, and up, and then down, and down, and down, as she practiced scales, and runs, and trills, never really letting her voice out, but keeping to the enchanting half-voice which tests the breath-control and imposes no strain on the throat. Felix, plunged head over ears in his dream, was like someone moving on another plane.

Eliza, ejecting a queen wasp from a honeypot, remarked with a rasp in her voice that, insects or men, it was all one when there was honey about, they were bound to trap themselves no matter what came of it.

“And no use your looking like that, Penny my dear. If he knew what was good for him he’d do different, but men don’t and never will.”

Penny said in a small dejected voice,

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She stood looking out of the old kitchen window, one hand absently stroking Mactavish, who was sunning himself on the window ledge. Through the half-open casement Miss Adrian could be heard trilling melodiously.

Eliza looked grimly at Penny’s back. It would have given her a good deal of pleasure to have started a barrel-organ in opposition. She would also have liked to tell Felix what she thought of the silly way he was acting-black as a May thunderstorm and sour enough to curdle the milk one minute, and grinning like a Cheshire cat the next. “And what I’ve always said, and always will say, is, being in love is all very well in reason, but no need to make a show of yourself!” This last bit came out aloud to the accompaniment of a vigorous rattling of pots and pans.

Penny said in a still smaller voice,

“I suppose he’s in love with her.” Then, after a pause, “I said that to him one day, I said it right out-‘I suppose you are in love with her.’ And what do you think he said?”

Eliza snorted.

“Something soft!”

Penny didn’t turn around. She went on stroking Mactavish.

“He looked at me. You know the way he can look-black, like you said just now-and he said, ‘Sometimes I think I hate her!’ and he went out of the room and banged the door.”

Eliza said harshly,

“She’s the tormenting sort. Maybe she’ll do it once too often. Hatred’s like muck-it breeds things.”

Penny nodded.

“He didn’t mean it-not really-at least-” Her voice trailed away.

“Better say it.”

“It’s wicked to hate. I suppose I’m wicked. I do very nearly hate her-when she-makes Felix-look like that.” Then, with sudden energy, “And when that scent of hers comes crawling up into my attic, I’d rather it was moth-ball, and that shows!”

Mactavish, who had been on the edge of purring, uttered a sharp protest. The stroking fingers had become quite hard. They had pressed upon a tender spot, they had actually hurt. It was not his habit to suffer in silence. Since the fingers were Penny’s, he refrained from biting them. Instead he rose to his majestic height, dazzled her for a moment with an orange glare, and leaped out of the window.

Penny said, “Oh!” and Eliza scolded.

“Now look what you’ve done-put him right out of temper!”

The sound of Miss Adrian’s voice came in at the open window, floating down from its high trill. Penny jerked round, stamped her foot hard on the stone floor, and ran out of the room.

In the study the telephone bell was ringing. Marian Brand, who had been going through the writing-table drawers, pushed a pile of papers out of the way and pulled the standing instrument towards her. A man said “Hullo!” and all in a minute time and distance had slipped aside and a hand was holding hers in the dark under the rubble of a wrecked train.

She said, “Marian Brand speaking,” and was pleased because her voice was full and steady. Something in her shook. She had thought that he was still in America. Perhaps he was… That was nonsense. He might have been in the room. These thoughts were all there together at the same time.

And he was speaking again.

“How are you? Did you know my voice? I should have known yours anywhere.”

Ina opened the door. When she saw that Marian was at the telephone she went away again. She had the air of an intruding ghost, unwanted and forlorn. Marian had not even seen her. She was saying, “I thought you were in America.”

“I was-I’m not any longer. One flies. Did you get my letters?”

“Yes. They were very interesting.”

“How did you know we were here?”

“Your Mrs. Deane. I missed you by a couple of days. May I come over and see you?”

“Where are you?”

“Practically next door, in the hotel at Farne. When may I come and see you?”

“Would you like to come to lunch?”

“Do you mean today?…I’d love to.”

“We’re about a mile along the coast road. You can’t really miss us. The house is white, and there are twin front doors painted blue.”

She hung up and went to interview Eliza.

“I do hope you can manage. It’s rather short notice.”

Eliza looked gloomy.

“It’ll have to be something out of a tin, which is what I never thought I’d come to, but there’s not many can say they’ve not had their spirits broke by the war-when I think how I wouldn’t have margarine inside my kitchen, let alone having to manage with drips and drabs of fat, and go on your knees to the butcher for the bones to boil it off!”

“But you’re such a lovely cook. That’s where real cleverness comes in-everything tastes as if you had pounds of whatever you wanted.”

If there had been one shade of insincerity in her tone, or even in her thought, Eliza would have been on to it like Mactavish with a mouse. There being nothing but sheer conviction, she allowed herself to accept the tribute.

When they had considered that a coffee-cream could not be ready in time, and that there was not lard enough to make a tart, Eliza came down firmly upon Queen pudding, there being two eggs left over and the grocery order due again tomorrow.

Then as Marian turned to go, Eliza stayed her.

“There is something I think I’d better say, Miss Marian-”

Marian’s heart sank. After only two days she could feel that it was going to be a wrench to part with Eliza, and it sounded dreadfully as if Eliza was going to give notice. And then remorse smote her. If she felt like this all in a flash, no wonder Aunt Florence and Aunt Cassy were sitting on the other side of the wall being jealous and angry because of having Eliza reft from them. There had been a couple of dreadful communal meals at which this had been made quite clear. She braced herself for the blow.

Eliza stood up tall and stiff, with the bone of her nose showing yellow under the skin and her eyes the colour of the sharp steel knife which she had just taken out of the table drawer. She said,

“It’s always best to get things settled, and I’d like to be sure where I stand, so perhaps you’ll let me know if you would be thinking of making a change.”

This didn’t sound like giving notice, but you couldn’t take anything for granted.

“I don’t want to change anything at all, Eliza.”

“Then I’m sure I shall be very pleased to stay. I always did say this was the better range of the two, and Mactavish has settled down.”

“I’m very glad, Eliza. The only thing is, I feel bad about Mrs. Brand and Miss Remington-”

Eliza did not exactly sniff. The muscles of her nose twitched. She said firmly,

“Mrs. Bell is doing for them, and her sister Mrs. Woolley will come up mornings and cook for them. I’ve put her in the way of the range, and they can hot up what she leaves for the evening. It’s all fixed, and nothing for you to worry about. And if you and Mrs. Felton’ll do your own rooms-”

“And the study,” said Marian quickly-“I’d like to do the study.”

“We’ll get along fine. And if I may say so, I’ll be glad for Penny to have a little more company, and Felix too.”