Array Коллектив авторов - 75 лучших рассказов / 75 Best Short Stories

‘And just think of what the band would sound like to that poor woman,’ said Laura.

‘Oh, Laura!’ Jose began to be seriously annoyed. ‘If you’re going to stop a band playing every time someone has an accident, you’ll lead a very strenuous life. I’m every bit as sorry about it as you. I feel just as sympathetic.’ Her eyes hardened. She looked at her sister just as she used to when they were little and fighting together. ‘You won’t bring a drunken workman back to life by being sentimental,’ she said softly.

‘Drunk! Who said he was drunk?’ Laura turned furiously on Jose. She said, just as they had used to say on those occasions, ‘I’m going straight up to tell mother.’

‘Do, dear,’ cooed Jose.

‘Mother, can I come into your room?’ Laura turned the big glass door-knob.

‘Of course, child. Why, what’s the matter? What’s given you such a colour?’ And Mrs. Sheridan turned round from her dressing-table. She was trying on a new hat.

‘Mother, a man’s been killed,’ began Laura.

‘Not in the garden?’ interrupted her mother.

‘No, no!’

‘Oh, what a fright you gave me!’ Mrs. Sheridan sighed with relief, and took off the big hat and held it on her knees.

‘But listen, mother,’ said Laura. Breathless, half-choking, she told the dreadful story. ‘Of course, we can’t have our party, can we?’ she pleaded. ‘The band and everybody arriving. They’d hear us, mother; they’re nearly neighbours!’

To Laura’s astonishment her mother behaved just like Jose; it was harder to bear because she seemed amused. She refused to take Laura seriously.

‘But, my dear child, use your common sense. It’s only by accident we’ve heard of it. If someone had died there normally – and I can’t understand how they keep alive in those poky little holes – we should still be having our party, shouldn’t we?’

Laura had to say ‘yes’ to that, but she felt it was all wrong. She sat down on her mother’s sofa and pinched the cushion frill.

‘Mother, isn’t it terribly heartless of us?’ she asked.

‘Darling!’ Mrs. Sheridan got up and came over to her, carrying the hat. Before Laura could stop her she had popped it on. ‘My child!’ said her mother, ‘the hat is yours. It’s made for you. It’s much too young for me. I have never seen you look such a picture. Look at yourself!’ And she held up her hand-mirror.

‘But, mother,’ Laura began again. She couldn’t look at herself; she turned aside.

This time Mrs. Sheridan lost patience just as Jose had done.

‘You are being very absurd, Laura,’ she said coldly. ‘People like that don’t expect sacrifices from us. And it’s not very sympathetic to spoil everybody’s enjoyment as you’re doing now.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Laura, and she walked quickly out of the room into her own bedroom. There, quite by chance, the first thing she saw was this charming girl in the mirror, in her black hat trimmed with gold daisies, and a long black velvet ribbon. Never had she imagined she could look like that. Is mother right? she thought. And now she hoped her mother was right. Am I being extravagant? Perhaps it was extravagant. Just for a moment she had another glimpse of that poor woman and those little children, and the body being carried into the house. But it all seemed blurred, unreal, like a picture in the newspaper. I’ll remember it again after the party’s over, she decided. And somehow that seemed quite the best plan…

Lunch was over by half-past one. By half-past two they were all ready for the fray. The green-coated band had arrived and was established in a corner of the tennis-court.

‘My dear!’ trilled Kitty Maitland, ‘aren’t they too like frogs for words? You ought to have arranged them round the pond with the conductor in the middle on a leaf.’

Laurie arrived and hailed them on his way to dress. At the sight of him Laura remembered the accident again. She wanted to tell him. If Laurie agreed with the others, then it was bound to be all right. And she followed him into the hall.

‘Laurie!’

‘Hallo!’ He was half-way upstairs, but when he turned round and saw Laura he suddenly puffed out his cheeks and goggled his eyes at her. ‘My word, Laura! You do look stunning,’ said Laurie. ‘What an absolutely topping hat!’

Laura said faintly ‘Is it?’ and smiled up at Laurie, and didn’t tell him after all.

Soon after that people began coming in streams. The band struck up; the hired waiters ran from the house to the marquee. Wherever you looked there were couples strolling, bending to the flowers, greeting, moving on over the lawn. They were like bright birds that had alighted in the Sheridans’ garden for this one afternoon, on their way to – where? Ah, what happiness it is to be with people who all are happy, to press hands, press cheeks, smile into eyes.

‘Darling Laura, how well you look!’

‘What a becoming hat, child!’

‘Laura, you look quite Spanish. I’ve never seen you look so striking.’

And Laura, glowing, answered softly, ‘Have you had tea? Won’t you have an ice? The passion-fruit ices really are rather special.’ She ran to her father and begged him. ‘Daddy darling, can’t the band have something to drink?’

And the perfect afternoon slowly ripened, slowly faded, slowly its petals closed.

‘Never a more delightful garden-party…’ ‘The greatest success…’ ‘Quite the most…’

Laura helped her mother with the good-byes. They stood side by side in the porch till it was all over.

‘All over, all over, thank heaven,’ said Mrs. Sheridan. ‘Round up the others, Laura. Let’s go and have some fresh coffee. I’m exhausted. Yes, it’s been very successful. But oh, these parties, these parties! Why will you children insist on giving parties!’ And they all of them sat down in the deserted marquee.

‘Have a sandwich, daddy dear. I wrote the flag.’

‘Thanks.’ Mr. Sheridan took a bite and the sandwich was gone. He took another. ‘I suppose you didn’t hear of a beastly accident that happened to-day?’ he said.

‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Sheridan, holding up her hand, ‘we did. It nearly ruined the party. Laura insisted we should put it off.’

‘Oh, mother!’ Laura didn’t want to be teased about it.

‘It was a horrible affair all the same,’ said Mr. Sheridan. ‘The chap was married too. Lived just below in the lane, and leaves a wife and half a dozen kiddies, so they say.’

An awkward little silence fell. Mrs. Sheridan fidgeted with her cup. Really, it was very tactless of father…

Suddenly she looked up. There on the table were all those sandwiches, cakes, puffs, all uneaten, all going to be wasted. She had one of her brilliant ideas.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Let’s make up a basket. Let’s send that poor creature some of this perfectly good food. At any rate, it will be the greatest treat for the children. Don’t you agree? And she’s sure to have neighbours calling in and so on. What a point to have it all ready prepared. Laura!’ She jumped up. ‘Get me the big basket out of the stairs cupboard.’

‘But, mother, do you really think it’s a good idea?’ said Laura.

Again, how curious, she seemed to be different from them all. To take scraps from their party. Would the poor woman really like that?

‘Of course! What’s the matter with you to-day? An hour or two ago you were insisting on us being sympathetic, and now—’

Oh well! Laura ran for the basket. It was filled, it was heaped by her mother.

‘Take it yourself, darling,’ said she. ‘Run down just as you are. No, wait, take the arum lilies too. People of that class are so impressed by arum lilies.’

‘The stems will ruin her lace frock,’ said practical Jose.