Ivy Compton-Burnett - Parents and Children

‘Do the others know?’ said Honor, beginning to jump and quiver in anticipation. ‘I will go and tell them; I am the one to know first. They won’t think it is true at first. Only Gavin will believe it.’

‘Gavin will have his own position in future,’ said Fulbert.

Regan smiled as if she were apart from words.

Honor encountered Graham in the hall, and crying the tidings, went on to find Daniel. The young men entered, half-braced for the truth, half-prepared for some travesty of it.

‘Honor should be here with her assurance,’ said Fulbert, as he shook hands with his sons and then drew them into his embrace. ‘She protested that I was not a ghost.’

Graham turned aside, white and shaken, and Daniel stood ready to give his support to any who required it. He glanced at his grandmother, but Regan had what she needed.

Luce entered, driven by Honor, started and paled, took some steps towards her father, and threw herself on his breast. Regan surveyed the scene in sympathy, almost at ease. Regan’s tears had been shed.

‘Grandma,’ said Luce, in a hardly audible tone, as if compelled to the words, ‘does Grandpa know?’

‘Yes, he knows. He has seen your father. He will soon be here.’ Regan needed to say no more of Sir Jesse’s meeting with his son.

‘Father,’ said Luce, in a gentle tone, ‘would it be too much for you to have Isabel and Venice and James? They are having needless moments of feeling they are fatherless.’

‘It is too much, and it is not enough. Let them all come. It is the healthy and natural way.’

Honor rushed upstairs with the summons, and her sister went to the door.

‘Children,’ she said, ‘your life is going to be whole again. The cloud is lifted. Honor has told you the truth.’

She led them to their father, Isabel white and trembling, Venice crimson and with staring eyes, James uncertain and almost afraid. Fulbert embraced them in a natural way, keeping his old manner with each. Isabel staggered and nearly fell, but recovered and sat with her eyes on her father, almost in the manner of Regan. Venice’s face relaxed and her eyes began to glow instead of stare. Daniel gave them seats and treated Graham as one of them. James fidgeted round his father’s chair in his old way, until, also in the old way, enjoined to be still, and the natural words seemed to break the tension and set on foot the old life.

‘The chief actor must bear the heaviest part,’ said Daniel. ‘May we hear the tale to be told?’

‘In a word,’ said his father, while Regan’s unmoved and satisfied face showed it had been put in many to herself. ‘You read the letter I wrote to Ridley, and the other from my servant, confirming my death. I had no equals about me. The second was written and sent while I lay unconscious; they thought I was near enough to my end. I lived for months, remembering nothing, and when I came to myself and found that no letters came, I questioned the men and found how things had gone. They were in awe of your father and had not dared to confess. They had even sent my effects to your mother. I wrote and told Ridley to prepare you for the truth, followed the letter myself, and waited at the inn to recover and to hear that the way was clear. I dreaded the shock for your mother, for mine, and for you all. That letter cannot have reached him.’

‘Grandma,’ said Luce, in a desperate whisper, as if the words were wrung from her, ‘does Father know about Mother and Ridley?’

Regan nodded almost with indifference, as though this were a secondary thing.

‘I can face the natural results of my disappearance,’ said Fulbert, turning on his daughter his old unflinching gaze. ‘I should wish no one to go through life alone. But I hope my wife will find it a relief not to replace me after all.’ He turned and put his arm round Isabel, as though here was someone who would never have done so.

‘Father,’ said Luce, in a faltering manner, ‘Mother had her hard time after you had gone.’

‘That was the trouble, no doubt,’ said Fulbert. ‘I wish I could have spared you all. But our life may be better, that we know what it is to lose it.’

‘It is a method of enhancement I can only deplore,’ said Daniel.

‘You are yourself again, my son. You have had some hard months. Your own work must have suffered. I shall be thankful to take up my duty again and leave you to yours.’

‘I hope that disgrace for failure will be balanced by credit for feeling,’ said Graham.

‘There is greater credit in the greater feeling, that made you go on as if I were here,’ said Fulbert. ‘I am touched by the signs of the unbroken life in my home. It has held as though my eyes were on it. I find no change in any of you. There is no gulf to be bridged. James does not open doors and he is remaining away from school. And I would have had it so. I have no sense of missing steps in my family history.’

James gave a little jump, uncertain whether he had met success or not.

‘Grandma,’ said Luce, in a low tone, ‘the little boys have come in. Is it better for them to be prepared?’

‘Gavin does not need preparation,’ said Fulbert. ‘He has done his best to perform the office for you all. And no doubt he has done so for Nevill. Let it happen in its own way. I ask nothing that is not spontaneous and natural.’

Nevill ran into the room and towards his grandmother, caught sight of his father, paused and rested his eyes on him, and then ran on and laid something on Regan’s lap.

‘A bird’s nest,’ he said. ‘Where the little birds used to live.’

‘What will they do without their home?’

‘All fly away,’ said Nevill.

‘The little birds had a father and mother bird,’ said Regan, guiding his head towards Fulbert. ‘And the father bird has come back to the nest.’

Nevill cast his eyes about in quest of this visitor, and dropped them to the nest, in case Regan’s words might be true.

‘Where?’ he said, bringing them back to her face.

‘Look and see,’ said Regan, turning his head again in the right direction.

‘Outside,’ said Nevill, as some sparrows chirped by the window. ‘He has come back. Hark.’

‘Nevill is showing to the same advantage as James,’ said Daniel.

‘Do you see who is standing by Isabel?’ said Regan.

‘Father,’ said Nevill, in a light tone, as if he would not emphasize what might be in doubt.

‘He would like to see his little boy.’

Nevill detached himself from Regan, as if this would aid his father’s view.

Nevill detached himself from Regan, as if this would aid his arms and laughed and whimpered alternately, touching his cheek and withdrawing his hand, as though uncertain whether he caressed the authentic person.

‘I have congratulated myself that my family has not changed,’ said Fulbert. ‘I must remember to wonder if the same thing can be said of myself.’

‘Dear Father!’ said Luce, for the guidance of Nevill.

‘Dear Father,’ he agreed, using a more confident hand, and allowing himself to look definitely into Fulbert’s face. ‘Dear Father has come back after a long time. He won’t go away again today.’

‘He will never go away again,’ said Luce.

‘Yes,’ said Nevill, struggling down from Fulbert’s arms and nodding his head. ‘He will. But Mr Ridley will always stay.’

‘I can’t live down my bad name all at once,’ said Fulbert. ‘And now where is my son, who helped me to get to my home?’

Gavin approached and raised his face, as for a daily greeting.

‘You knew I should come back one day, didn’t you?’

‘No. We thought you were dead.’

‘You did not seem so very surprised to see me.’

‘Did you know that I saw you?’ said Gavin, lifting his eyes to his father’s.