John Harding - Florence and Giles

I had never seen the Van Hoosier place; it was approached by a long driveway, and set in woodland so far back from the main road as to invisible all but its chimneys when we drove past. So I was surprised to find it smaller than Blithe, although in every other respect much grander. You could tell that from the moment you turned off the road and through the entrance gates, which were newly painted, in contrast to our own peeling and chipped portals. The edges of the drive were neatly manicured and the lawns either side trimmed to within an inch of their lives. The house itself sparkled and gleamed in the winter sun; it did not absorb the light like dull old Blithe. John dropped me at the front door. ‘I’ll drive the trap around the back and make myself comfortable in the servants’ kitchen, Miss Florence,’ he said as he handed me down. ‘Just have them send for me when you’re ready to leave.’

I anxioused as I reached for the bell pull. I was all best-frocked today and did not feel in my own skin. The door was opened (soundlessly, it did not creak like nearly all the doors at Blithe) by a uniformed footman. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, questioning an eyebrow.

‘I – I came to inquire after the health of Mr Van Hoosier,’ I mumbled. ‘That is, I mean, well, young Mr Van Hoosier.’

‘And you would be…?’

‘Florence, from Blithe House.’

He held open the door and bowed me in. I found myself in a grand hallway with a great sweeping staircase, chandeliered and crystalled to the nines, mirrors everywhere, so that I was surrounded by what seemed dozens of pale, gawky girls, staring at me from all directions. ‘If you’ll just wait one moment, miss, I’ll tell Mrs Van Hoosier you’re here.’

He went off, heels clicking the tiled floor. I gazed at myself in the mirrors some more then decided to concentrate on looking down at my boots, which I found far more comfortable. After what seemed an age – I figured he had a mighty long way to walk – the man clicked his way back and invited me to follow him. He led me down a long corridor, opened a door and insinuated me into a small sitting room, where Mrs Van Hoosier was seated at a walnut writing desk, evidently in the middle of penning a letter. She looked up and sugared me a smile. ‘Come in, my dear, come in and make yourself comfy. You must be frozen after your journey over here.’

She stood up, walked round the desk and shook my hand. I handed her the paper bag of pastries I had brought. ‘For Theo,’ I explained.

She opened the bag and peered at its contents and then, without comment, placed it on the desk and indicated a chair by the fire. ‘Melville, bring us some coffee and cake, would you?’ I heard the door close behind me. I sat down. I had met Mrs Van Hoosier but the once, the time they called at Blithe to introduce us to Theo. I had little attentioned her on that occasion, being much more taken with Theo and wondering how long it would be before he broke something. Observing her now, what struck me most was what a huge battleship of a woman she was. She was tall, and you could see that was where Theo got his height from, but she was also filled out, solid, not bendy like her boy. She was mantelpieced by a large bosom that cantilevered out in front of her; you could have stood things on it, a vase of flowers and a bust of Beethoven, and a family photograph or two, maybe. Her hair was all piled up on her head and that probably added another few inches. When I sat down she gianted over me, which didn’t help my nervousness.

She put one hand on the mantelpiece over the fire and leaned against it.

‘I – I came to inquire after Theo, I mean Mr Van Hoosier,’ I muttered. ‘I was hoping perhaps to visit with him and maybe cheer him up.’

She insincered me a smile. It felt like a grimace. ‘Ah yes, how kind of you, but I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He’s much too sick. The doctor has forbidden him any excitement.’

I smiled at the thought that I might constitute excitement.

‘You find that amusing?’

‘Oh, no, ma’am, not at all. It was just, well…’ My words died away.

The door opened and Melville reappeared with a tray. Mrs Van Hoosier sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace from me. Melville moved a side table next to her and set the tray on it. He placed another table beside me. ‘That’s all right, Melville, you can go.’

She poured the coffee and added milk and handed me a cup. ‘You have enjoyed Theo’s company, it seems.’

I nodded. ‘Oh, yes…’

‘Well, of course. He’s a fascinating boy.’

It wasn’t the word I’d have used for Theo.

‘And I thought it would be good for him to have some companionship here.’ I nervoused a sip of coffee. She raised her cup to her lips but then paused and lowered it slightly. ‘Though I wonder now, in the light of what’s happened, whether that wasn’t a mistake.’

‘A mistake?’

She proffered a plate of tiny tea cakes but I declined. She took one herself and popped it whole into her mouth and masticated slowly for a moment or two. The clock on the mantelpiece began to tick louder. She swallowed. ‘Yes, a mistake. All that skating and running around in the cold. I fear it has done his chest no favours.’

‘But, Mrs Van Hoosier, if I may make so bold –’

‘You may not.’ She inserted another cake into her mouth and chewed it so angrily I all but felt sorry for it. When it was finally dead she turned and fixed me a look, as though she were a scientist and I some kind of bug she was microscoping. ‘The problem is, Florence, that you have been left to run wild. I think your uncle should have kept a closer eye on you. There is more to being a guardian than providing a home and food.’

I eagered a question. ‘Do you know my uncle?’

‘No, I’m afraid I never had that pleasure, never even heard of the man until we bought this place, although I did meet your stepmother once.’

‘What was she like?’

She screwed up her eyes, as if shutting out the present and gazing at the long-distant past. Finally she opened them and picked up a bell from the table beside her. ‘Do you know, it was years ago, when she wasn’t much more than a girl. She was pretty, though not at all sophisticated, but other than that I don’t rightly remember her at all. Then I heard she’d married someone from these parts.’ She rang the bell.

‘That would be my father,’ I said.

‘So it would seem,’ she said.

‘And they died, in a boating accident, I believe.’

‘How tragic,’ said Mrs Van Hoosier as if it wasn’t at all. Melville appeared in the doorway. ‘Anyhow,’ she continued, ‘I think perhaps it would be a good idea if Theo were to visit you a little less. He has his lessons to learn and, what with his illness, his tutor fears he’s getting behind…’

‘Y-you’re stopping his visits?’ I shocked how this suddened to matter to me. I would not have thought to have cared.

‘No, my dear, I wouldn’t want to deprive my son of all amusement. I’m just reining back on them a little, is all. I think too much excitement is not good for him. Melville, ask for the young lady’s carriage to be brought round, would you?’

That night was all toss-and-turn and longing for dawn; I was too mindfilled to sleep. From being a girl who had too much time on her hands, I now found myself fully occupied by all the things that were happening in my life. First there was poor Giles, and what I between-the-linesed from his letters. Other than that ambiguous phrase about the pinching and hitting, there was nothing I could actually put my finger on, no direct complaint, although I certained he would make one if he were really in trouble or upset. Then, at one of my many wakings, it came to me, wondering me why I hadn’t thought of it before. Of course, his letters would be censored; a teacher would read them before they were allowed to be sent home. Any bald statement of bullying would certainly be excised; the school would not want bad impressions being conveyed that might anxious parents; that would not do at all. As you may imagine, the thought did not comfort me one bit.