Henry Green - Concluding

"Who's he?"

"Why Sebastian, naturally, old 'Cause and Effect'. Or have you been asleep till now? Isn't it splendid for Mr Rock, though." And it was plain from her voice that Moira meant this. "He might be a great grandfather extraordinarily quick. Only nine months, and what's that in his lifetime?"

The news was taken reflectively. Then someone asked, by way of fun, "I wonder what Edgey'll give for a present?"

"A stuffed goose."

"One of those lucky cat charms."

"Or a black and white china pig money box."

"No, listen, Baker is not too bad really, you know. I bet she even signs them a fat cheque."

"However he could. Why, Liz's a million."

"Pity does it, dear. That's the way to get a man. Go weak up top."

"But she must be years and years older."

"D'you imagine the proper reason's that husband and wife mayn't give evidence against one another?"

"If you really believe what you've just said then all I can say is, you've been having a sight too much of old Dakers in class."

"Plenty of time for slips betwixt cup and the lip, between now and September, in class and out."

"What d'you mean, because they won't wait six weeks. They'll be wed at the end of a gun."

"Only what you said, Moira, wasn't it, not till the autumn?"

"I say, isn't everyone confusing, in white dresses for once? I'm frightfully sorry, I'd never have spoken to you if I'd seen you were a senior."

"That's all right. This is your first summer term, I expect. Else you'd know that tonight of all nights we're all in the party together. You can even ask Edge for a hop round if you want."

"Oh her."

"Don't be too sure. She does it divinely. You simply can't tell just by looking at people."

"Or their dolls," someone else put in.

"Oh, shut up."

"But I could never have imagined about her dancing. Anyway, it's awfully decent of you not to mind when I spoke."

"Well, my point is, Mary's a curse."

"Can you imagine? Mrs Blain doesn't know even yet."

"You suppose she'll go into hysterics when she does find out? My dear, the whole of that ancient stuff about her favourites is simply my eye and that Betty Martin. It's just she can't cook without she must make an almighty fuss of someone."

"Lord, things are slow. When on earth is it all due to start?"

"No hurry. I've been sick of the whole business for days."

"Well, there might just be some more on downstairs, remember."

"Watch your step, Melissa," Moira warned. "It wouldn't do, now, for everyone to learn."

"I tell you," a girl said from the back, "I agree with Marion. This making blue eyed well-done-girl stuck up posters out of those two is perfectly crazy."

"Who has?"

"You, only this morning. When you promised us all they were wonderful. And started to cry even, as you thought of what might have happened to Mary."

"Oh I did, did I?"

"Stop squabbling, children. But please, I mean it. In another minute I shall be saying 'oh my poor head'." This was a tolerable imitation of Marchbanks.

"How will Ma manage?" one of them asked. "That sinus of hers's been really bad."

"How could she ever dare not? We'll have a laugh over the love birds anyway. Someone might cut in a bit on S. just to make her wonder."

"Good for you, duck," another greeted Moira over this last remark. She was an unpopular girl.

"Anyway three cheers for the old State Service."

"Nobody's to touch the crab sandwiches if they know what's good for 'em. They're poison."

"We made the lemonade too sweet again, for that matter."

"There won't be much downstairs, you know where."

"For the third time, Melissa! Shut up, will you?"

"So what about downstairs?"

"There you are, all of you."

"Nothing."

"Oh, for the love of Mike, tell her."

"That's just one item. Because is it right we're to look after pigs now? Aren't pigs rather the end?"

"Old Mr Rock will be in charge," Moira assured them confidently. "I've already told him," she lied.

"Why, what are pigs to him?"

"Pearls before swine."

"Well, of course, he wouldn't like competition for Daise. After all? Can you imagine his precious darling set down in the middle of a hundred sties?"

"It'd be company. I feel Daisy's so alone."

"Anyway, I think Mr Rock's an old sweet."

"He's afraid for her most of the time with this filthy swine fever," Moira explained. "If I was to be a vet I'd do something about it. Perhaps I'll wed one and make him."

"I didn't expect you of all people to poke fun at Mr Rock, Moira."

"I'm not. I meant every word. After all, it's always the end for the poor pigs."

"And the waste when they die. 'A drain on the whole economy of the State'."

"I say, Midget, you do take S. off beautifully. Will you give us a star turn later?"

"Why, do they allow turns at the dance?"

"Not up here, we don't."

"Everyone this evening seems to imagine other people are poking elaborate fun. But swine fever's a true waste, isn't it?"

"So what?"

"Oh, you're hopeless."

"I'm sorry to say, children, I don't fancy Mr Rock will be here much longer."

"Oh, not another death, Mirabel?"

"There's been nobody died off of late, has there, or if so, then I've not heard."

"He'll be shifted, you'll see."

"Lucky old, old man."

"But they can't. It would be the finish. Being with us is everything for him."

"Why? Has he told you, Mirabel?"

"Anyone knows just by looking in his sweet old face."

"At least be sure of this. If they are to get married Edgey will slide all three out one way or another."

"But why on earth?"

"Jealousy."

"Oh no. You can't be so absurd."

"Can't I? But it's right enough, mark my words. She won't have anyone wed just under her nose. And if the old man is broken hearted it will be that silly Elizabeth's fault. Honestly I've got now so that I loathe my own cloth, I hate all women."

"Not if we have the pigs, Edge won't. Why, there's no-one else but Mr Rock."

"You're dappy where he's concerned, Moira. He's too aged to look after a fly even."

"How can you say that, when he's made such a success of Daisy and Ted?"

"What about Adams?"

"You don't include the granddaughter, I notice. No, he's nursing the viper in that woman, all right."

"You're all of you crazy," Moira said.

At this precise moment, and out of sight of these girls, Miss Inglefield, without warning, started the gramophone just once more to see if it would work. The loud speaker was full on so they could even hear the conductor, dead these many years, tap his stick at a desk some thirty summers back, and the music, with a roll of drums, swayed, swelled into a waltz. The girls, each one, gave a small sigh, moved, as one, each to her long promised partner, took her by the hand; they held hands as women but in couples, what had been formless became a group, by music, merged to a line of white in pairs, white faces, to the flowers and lighted ballroom, each pair of lips open to the spiralling dance. Then it stopped sharp into silence when, satisfied out of sight round the corner, Miss Inglefield lifted the needle. At once these students broke away disappointed, years younger once again.

"False alarm," someone commented severely.

A single pigeon, black in thickening sky, flew swift and on past the Park.

It was dusk.

Light from wide open windows increased by strides, primrose yellow over a dark that bled from blue.

With a swoop an owl came down across and hooted while Mr Rock and his granddaughter crept up the last stone flight when, unheralded, unannounced, and they could not see inside for the windows were yet too high above their heads, the gramophone crashed out once more, so loud now the old man halted entranced by the first bars of another great valse of drums and strings which, a second time however, was no sooner begun than cut off again by Inglefield.