Henry Green: Loving, Living, Party Going

‘No darling to tell you the truth I didn’t dare.’

‘It is a bit of a facer isn’t it?’

‘You see I couldn’t very well refuse,’ Mrs Tennant said, ‘and it will be so good for the children.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘Oh Mrs Welch is a most superior woman. I’m sure he’ll be perfect. I wouldn’t mind if there were any possible children down in the village But even Michael’s eldest boy at the Lodge Gates is dressed as a girl.’

‘Do they really still believe the boys get carried off by fairies?’

‘Well if they do they could expect fairies to see through the skirts. But couldn’t you say the little chap’s been ill?’ she asked her daughter-in-law.

‘Then she’d think she’ll have to nurse him,’ Mrs Jack objected.

‘But couldn’t you promise her that Mrs Welch won’t let him out of sight Violet?’

‘It is so difficult isn’t it? And it’s just what Evelyn and Moira have been wanting. Anyway bother nanny.’ The two women smiled at one another, grew mischievous. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ Mrs Jack went on, ‘why don’t we say it’s Mrs Welch’s illegitimate? Then she’ll be so thrilled she’ll look after him like one of her own.’

Mrs Tennant tee hee’d.

‘Oh Violet you are naughty,’ she said.

‘Well I don’t know why not. After all the worry they bring it would be a score to give them something to really chatter about.’

‘And then we should have to find another cook and another nanny,’ Mrs Tennant objected. ‘It’s quite bad enough having them die on one. Besides, Nanny Swift will think it out for herself. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if she didn’t start throwing dark hints before the child has been here ten days.’

‘D’you think it’s true then?’

‘My dear what do we know about the servants? Agatha took the trouble only this morning to let out some frightful double meanings in connection with Kate and Arthur. I must remember to call him Raunce.’

‘Kate? I’d’ve thought it would be Edith. I wish I had that girl’s skin.’

‘Yes she’s a lovely child isn’t she? D’you know Violet I don’t think I care what they do so long as they stay.’

‘You poor dear,’ Mrs Jack said. ‘Why look,’ she went on, ‘there it is already.’ And there it was close, on a low hill, surrounded by cypresses amongst which grew a palm tree, the marble pillars lying beside jagged cement topped walls against a blue sky with blue clouds ‘D’you think we have to go right up this time?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think we need today, do you?’ her mother-in-law replied. Calling to the dogs they turned for home. They began a talk about underclothes.

But Kate and Edith were not to get out of the Castle without difficulty. As they came down their passage ready dressed for the afternoon they were halted by a broken noise of sobbing.

‘Why listen,’ Kate said, ‘it must be the old girl herself. Now what do you say to that?’

‘You go on dear,’ Edith answered, ‘don’t wait for me.’

‘Ah now come on Edie, half the day’s gone already, you don’t want to bother.’

‘Why the poor soul,’ Edith said and went in, shutting the door after.

Miss Burch lay on her bed wrapped in a huge blue crocheted shawl. She had taken off her wig and wore a lace mob cap which hung askew. With hands inside that shawl and face sideways on the pillow over a patch of wet Miss Burch seemed given over to despair and sobbed and shook and hiccuped.

Edith took off her beret, sat on the bedside shaking her hair free.

‘Oh Burchie Burchie,’ she said, ‘why whatever’s the matter?’

She got no other answer than a wail. Then Miss Burch rolled over face to the wall. The cap twisted off her head. Edith gently put it back and because her shiny skull was sideways on that pillow she could only place the cap so that it sat at right angles to Miss Burch’s pinched nose, as someone lying in the open puts their hat to protect their face and terrible eyes.

‘Now then,’ Edith tried again, ‘what’s this?’ She spoke soft.

‘Oh I can’t bear it,’ Miss Burch cried out, ‘I can’t bear it.’

‘Can’t bear what dear?’ But the sobbing started redoubled.

‘Now Burchie don’t take on so, you shouldn’t,’ Edith went on, searching over this cocoon with her hand for Miss Burch’s where it lay wrapped warm to her side, ‘listen to me dear, it can’t be so bad. You let me bring you a nice cup of tea.’

‘I can’t bear it,’ Miss Burch replied a trifle calmer.

‘It wouldn’t take me more than a minute to run down. No one would ever know, the kettle was nicely on the boil in the hall when I just left it. You see now if that mightn’t do you good.’

‘Nothing’ll ever be the same,’ was all Miss Burch said.

‘Now don’t talk so wild Burchie. You just go easy and let me fetch you a good cup of tea.’

‘You’re a good child.’

‘Of course I am. There dear. Rest yourself.’

Miss Burch began to sniff, to show signs of coming round.

‘It wouldn’t take but a minute to nip down,’ Edith went on but Miss Burch interrupted.

‘No don’t leave me, Edith,’ she said.

‘Then what is it now?’ the girl asked, ‘what’s happened to upset you like you are?’

Then it came out much interrupted and in a confused flow after she had adjusted her cap. What Miss Burch felt so she said was that nothing would ever be the same, that after thirty-five years in service she could not look forward to being in a respectable house again where your work was respected and in which you could do your best. Yet with the same breath she told Edith that Kate and her were lucky to be in a place like this. She went on that there were not many girls in their position able to learn the trade as she was able to teach it, to pass on all she had acquired about the cleaning and ordering of a house, particularly when over at home they were all being sent in the army to be leapt on so she honestly believed by drunken soldiers in darkness. She said they were never to leave the Castle, that they didn’t know their luck. But at the same time, with another burst of sobs, she repeated that nothing would ever be the same, that it was to throw away a life time’s labour for her to go on here. She made no mention of Mr Eldon. In the end a cup of tea had finally quietened Miss Burch so that the two girls were at last able to set off down the back way which joined the main drive not far from Michael’s Lodge Gate, cut in the ruined wall which shut this demesne from tumble-down country outside.

Another morning, as he had been warned that Captain Davenport and Mrs Tancy were coming over to luncheon, Charley went to his room, got out the red and black notebooks, consulted the index and looked these people up. He read:

‘Davenport Captain Irish Rifles ret’d salmon trout Master Dermot first term. Wife passed away flu’ 1937. Digs after the old kings in his bog’ Then there was a long list of amounts with a date set against each. These possibly were tips. But Raunce noticed that Mr Eldon had touched the Captain for larger and larger amounts. At the last which was for a fiver Charley whistled. He said out loud, ‘Now I wonder.’

Then he turned to the woman’s page. ‘Mrs Tancy her old Morris,’ he found set down and the word Morris had been crossed out Mr Eldon had added above, ‘her old pony male eleven years.’ There came another long list of dates with unvaryingly small payments, not one larger than a shilling, the last in August.

Mr Eldon had always seen to opening the door himself so that when the Captain rang it was the first time that Raunce had received him.

‘Well now if it isn’t Arthur,’ this man said hearty and also it appeared with distaste. He put up the cycle for himself. ‘And what news of Eldon?’