Why dont you hang them in the passage? suggested Mrs. Fairfield; they would not be much seen there.
I cant. There is no room. Ive hung all the photographs of his office there before and after building, and the signed photos of his business friends, and that awful enlargement of Isabel lying on the mat in her singlet. Her angry glance swept the placid kitchen. I know what Ill do. Ill hang them here. I will tell Stanley they got a little damp in the moving so I have put them in here for the time being.
She dragged a chair forward, jumped on it, took a hammer and a big nail out of her pinafore pocket and banged away.
There! That is enough! Hand me the picture, mother.
One moment, child. Her mother was wiping over the carved ebony frame.
Oh, mother, really you need not dust them. It would take years to dust all those little holes. And she frowned at the top of her mothers head and bit her lip with impatience. Mothers deliberate way of doing things was simply maddening. It was old age, she supposed, loftily.
At last the two pictures were hung side by side. She jumped off the chair, stowing away the little hammer.
They dont look so bad there, do they? said she. And at any rate nobody need gaze at them except Pat and the servant girlhave I got a spiders web on my face, mother? Ive been poking into that cupboard under the stairs and now something keeps tickling my nose.
But before Mrs. Fairfield had time to look Beryl had turned away. Someone tapped on the window: Linda was there, nodding and smiling. They heard the latch of the scullery door lift and she came in. She had no hat on; her hair stood upon her head in curling rings and she was wrapped up in an old cashmere shawl.
Im so hungry, said Linda: where can I get something to eat, mother? This is the first time Ive been in the kitchen. It says mother all over; everything is in pairs.
I will make you some tea, said Mrs. Fairfield, spreading a clean napkin over a corner of the table, and Beryl can have a cup with you.
Beryl, do you want half my gingerbread? Linda waved the knife at her. Beryl, do you like the house now that we are here?
Oh yes, I like the house immensely and the garden is beautiful, but it feels very far away from everything to me. I cant imagine people coming out from town to see us in that dreadful jolting bus, and I am sure there is not anyone here to come and call. Of course it does not matter to you because
But theres the buggy, said Linda. Pat can drive you into town whenever you like.
That was a consolation, certainly, but there was something at the back of Beryls mind, something she did not even put into words for herself.
Oh, well, at any rate it wont kill us, she said dryly, putting down her empty cup and standing up and stretching. I am going to hang curtains. And she ran away singing:
How many thousand birds I see
That sing aloud from every tree
birds I see That sing aloud from every tree But when she reached the dining-room she stopped singing, her face changed; it became gloomy and sullen.
One may as well rot here as anywhere else, she muttered savagely, digging the stiff brass safety-pins into the red serge curtains.
The two left in the kitchen were quiet for a little. Linda leaned her cheek on her fingers and watched her mother. She thought her mother looked wonderfully beautiful with her back to the leafy window. There was something comforting in the sight of her that Linda felt she could never do without. She needed the sweet smell of her flesh, and the soft feel of her cheeks and her arms and shoulders still softer. She loved the way her hair curled, silver at her forehead, lighter at her neck and bright brown still in the big coil under the muslin cap. Exquisite were her mothers hands, and the two rings she wore seemed to melt into her creamy skin. And she was always so fresh, so delicious. The old woman could bear nothing but linen next to her body and she bathed in cold water winter and summer.
Isnt there anything for me to do? asked Linda.
No, darling. I wish you would go into the garden and give an eye to your children; but that I know you will not do.
Of course I will, but you know Isabel is much more grown up than any of us.
Yes, but Kezia is not, said Mrs. Fairfield.
Oh, Kezia has been tossed by a bull hours ago, said Linda, winding herself up in her shawl again.
But no, Kezia had seen a bull through a hole in a knot of wood in the paling that separated the tennis lawn from the paddock. But she had not liked the bull frightfully, so she had walked away back through the orchard, up the grassy slope, along the path by the lace-bark tree and so into the spread tangled garden. She did not believe that she would ever not get lost in this garden. Twice she had found her way back to the big iron gates they had driven through the night before, and then had turned to walk up the drive that led to the house, but there were so many little paths on either side. On one side they all led into a tangle of tall dark trees and strange bushes with flat velvet leaves and feathery cream flowers that buzzed with flies when you shook themthis was the frightening side, and no garden at all. The little paths here were wet and clayey with tree roots spanned across them like the marks of big fowls feet.
But on the other side of the drive there was a high box border and the paths had box edges and all of them led into a deeper and deeper tangle of flowers. The camellias were in bloom, white and crimson and pink and white striped with flashing leaves. You could not see a leaf on the syringa bushes for the white clusters. The roses were in flowergentlemens button-hole roses, little white ones, but far too full of insects to hold under anyones nose, pink monthly roses with a ring of fallen petals round the bushes, cabbage roses on thick stalks, moss roses, always in bud, pink smooth beauties opening curl on curl, red ones so dark they seemed to turn black as they fell, and a certain exquisite cream kind with a slender red stem and bright scarlet leaves.
There were clumps of fairy bells, and all kinds of geraniums, and there were little trees of verbena and bluish lavender bushes and a bed of pelargoniums with velvet eyes and leaves like moths wings. There was a bed of nothing but mignonette and another of nothing but pansiesborders of double and single daisies and all kinds of little tufty plants she had never seen before.
The red-hot pokers were taller than she; the Japanese sunflowers grew in a tiny jungle. She sat down on one of the box borders. By pressing hard at first it made a nice seat. But how dusty it was inside! Kezia bent down to look and sneezed and rubbed her nose.
And then she found herself at the top of the rolling grassy slope that led down to the orchard She looked down at the slope a moment; then she lay down on her back, gave a squeak and rolled over and over into the thick flowery orchard grass. As she lay waiting for things to stop spinning, she decided to go up to the house and ask the servant girl for an empty matchbox. She wanted to make a surprise for the grandmother First she would put a leaf inside with a big violet lying on it, then she would put a very small white picotee, perhaps, on each side of the violet, and then she would sprinkle some lavender on the top, but not to cover their heads.
She often made these surprises for the grandmother, and they were always most successful.
She often made these surprises for the grandmother, and they were always most successful.
Do you want a match, my granny?
Why, yes, child, I believe a match is just what Im looking for. The grandmother slowly opened the box and came upon the picture inside.
Good gracious, child! How you astonished me!
I can make her one every day here, she thought, scrambling up the grass on her slippery shoes.
But on her way back to the house she came to that island that lay in the middle of the drive, dividing the drive into two arms that met in front of the house. The island was made of grass banked up high. Nothing grew on the top except one huge plant with thick, grey-green, thorny leaves, and out of the middle there sprang up a tall stout stem. Some of the leaves of the plant were so old that they curled up in the air no longer, they turned back, they were split and broken, some of them lay flat and withered on the ground.
Whatever could it be? She had never seen anything like it before. She stood and stared. And then she saw her mother coming down the path.
Mother, what is it? asked Kezia.
Linda looked up at the fat swelling plant with its cruel leaves and fleshy stem. High above them, as though becalmed in the air, and yet holding so fast to the earth it grew from, it might have had claws instead of roots. The curving leaves seemed to be hiding something; the blind stem cut into the air as if no wind could ever shake it.
That is an aloe, Kezia, said her mother.
Does it ever have any flowers?
Yes, Kezia, and Linda smiled down at her, and half shut her eyes. Once every hundred years.
VII
On his way home from the office Stanley Burnell stopped the buggy at the Bodega, got out and bought a large bottle of oysters. At the Chinamans shop next door he bought a pineapple in the pink of condition, and noticing a basket of fresh black cherries he told John to put him a pound of those as well. The oysters and the pine he stowed away in the box under the front seat, but the cherries he kept in his hand.
Pat, the handy-man, leapt off the box and tucked him up again in the brown rug.
Lift yer feet, Mr. Burnell, while I give yer a fold under, said he.
Right! Right! First rate! said Stanley. You can make straight for home now.
Pat gave the grey mare a touch and the buggy sprang forward.
I believe this man is a first-rate chap, thought Stanley. He liked the look of him sitting up there in his neat brown coat and brown bowler. He liked the way Pat had tucked him in, and he liked his eyes. There was nothing servile about himand if there was one thing he hated more than another it was servility. And he looked as if he was pleased with his jobhappy and contented already.
The grey mare went very well; Burnell was impatient to be out of the town. He wanted to be home. Ah, it was splendid to live in the countryto get right out of that hole of a town once the office was closed; and this drive in the fresh warm air, knowing all the while that his own house was at the other end, with its garden and paddocks, its three tip-top cows and enough fowls and ducks to keep them in poultry, was splendid too.
As they left the town finally and bowled away up the deserted road his heart beat hard for joy. He rooted in the bag and began to eat the cherries, three or four at a time, chucking the stones over the side of the buggy. They were delicious, so plump and cold, without a spot or bruise on them.
Look at those two, nowblack one side and white the otherperfect! A perfect little pair of Siamese twins. And he stuck them in his button-hole By Jove, he wouldnt mind giving that chap up there a handfulbut no, better not. Better wait until he had been with him a bit longer.
He began to plan what he would do with his Saturday afternoons and his Sundays. He wouldnt go to the club for lunch on Saturday. No, cut away from the office as soon as possible and get them to give him a couple of slices of cold meat and half lettuce when he got home. And then hed get a few chaps out from town to play tennis in the afternoon. Not too manythree at most. Beryl was a good player, too He stretched out his right arm and slowly bent it, feeling the muscle A bath, a good rub-down, a cigar on the veranda after dinner
On Sunday morning they would go to churchchildren and all. Which reminded him that he must hire a pew, in the sun if possible and well forward so as to be out of the draught from the door. In fancy he heard himself intoning extremely well: When thou did overcome the Sharpness of Death Thou didst open the Kingdom of Heaven to all Believers. And he saw the neat brass-edged card on the corner of the pewMr. Stanley Burnell and family The rest of the day hed loaf about with Linda Now they were walking about the garden; she was on his arm, and he was explaining to her at length what he intended doing at the office the week following. He heard her saying: My dear, I think that is most wise Talking things over with Linda was a wonderful help even though they were apt to drift away from the point.
Hang it all! They werent getting along very fast. Pat had put the brake on again. Ugh! What a brute of a thing it was. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach.
A sort of panic overtook Burnell whenever he approached near home. Before he was well inside the gate he would shout to anyone within sight: Is everything all right? And then he did not believe it was until he heard Linda say: Hullo! Are you home again? That was the worst of living in the countryit took the deuce of a long time to get back But now they werent far off. They were on the top of the last hill; it was a gentle slope all the way now and not more than half a mile.
Pat trailed the whip over the mares back and he coaxed her: Goop now. Goop now.
It wanted a few minutes to sunset. Everything stood motionless bathed in bright, metallic light and from the paddocks on either side there streamed the milky scent of ripe grass. The iron gates were open. They dashed through and up the drive and round the island, stopping at the exact middle of the veranda.
Did she satisfy yer, sir? said Pat, getting off the box and grinning at his master.
Very well indeed, Pat, said Stanley.
Linda came out of the glass door; her voice rang in the shadowy quiet. Hullo! Are you home again?
At the sound of her his heart beat so hard that he could hardly stop himself dashing up the steps and catching her in his arms.
Yes, Im home again. Is everything all right?
Pat began to lead the buggy round to the side gate that opened into the courtyard.
Here, half a moment, said Burnell. Hand me those two parcels. And he said to Linda, Ive brought you back a bottle of oysters and a pineapple, as though he had brought her back all the harvest of the earth.
They all went into the hall; Linda carried the oysters in one hand and the pineapple in the other. Burnell shut the glass door, threw his hat down, put his arms round her and strained her to him, kissing the top of her head, her ears, her lips, her eyes.
Oh, dear! Oh, dear! said she. Wait a moment. Let me put down these silly things, and she put the bottle of oysters and the pine on a little carved chair. What have you got in your button-holecherries? She took them out and hung them over his ear.