Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

"I understand," I said, "and I'll be brisk- within reason."

But I wonder if I shall ever manage it. And I wonder if it is really

necessary--surely Stephen's devotion isn't anything serious or

grown-up? But now that the idea has been put into my head, I keep

remembering how queer his voice sounded when he asked me about being

hungry. It is worrying--but rather exciting .. . I shall stop thinking about it; such things are not in my line at all. They are very much in Rose's line and I know just what Father meant when he said he was glad Stephen wasn't devoted to her.

Topaz came from the wash-house and set irons to heat, so Father

changed the subject by asking me if I'd dyed all my clothes green. I

said I had few to dye.

"Any long dresses at all?" he asked.

"Nary a one," I replied; and, indeed, I cannot see the slightest chance of ever acquiring grownup clothes.

"But my school gym-dress has a lot of life in it yet and it's very comfortable."

"I must alter something of mine for her," said Topaz as she went back to the wash-house. I felt my lack of clothes was a reflection on

Father and, in an effort to talk of something else, said the most

tactless thing possible.

"How's the work ?" I asked.

A closed-up look came over his face and he said shortly: "You're too old to believe in fairy tales."

I knew I had put my foot in it and thought I might as well go a bit

further.

"Honestly, Father- aren't you trying to write at all?"

"My dear Cassandra," he said in a cutting voice he very seldom uses,

"it's time this legend that I'm a writer ceased. You won't get any coming-out dresses from my earnings."

He got up without another word and went upstairs. I could have kicked myself for wrecking the first talk we'd had for months.

Thomas came in just then, wet through. I warned him not to use

Father's bedroom as a passage, as we usually do, and he went up the

front way. I took him some dry underclothes--fortunately the week's

ironing was done--and then went up to see how Stephen was getting on.

He had stuck the candle-ends on the floor, close to his open book, and was reading lying on his stomach.

His face was dazzlingly bright in the great dark attic -- I stood a

moment watching his lips moving before he heard me. The saucepans were on the point of overflowing. As I helped him to empty them out of the window I saw that the lamp was lit in the gatehouse, so Father must

have gone back there through the rain. It was slackening off at last.

The air smelt very fresh. I leaned out over the garden and found it

was much warmer than indoors--it always takes our house a while to

realize a change in the weather.

"It'll be spring for you soon, Miss Cassandra," said Stephen. We stood sniffing the air.

"There's quite a bit of softness in it, isn't there ?"

I said.

"I shall think of this as spring rain -or am I cheating his You know I always try to begin the spring too soon."

He leaned out and took a deep sniff.

"It's beginning all right, Miss Cassandra," he said.

"Maybe we'll get some setbacks but it's beginning." He suddenly smiled, not at me but looking straight in front of him, and added:

"Well, beginnings are good times." Then he closed the window and we put the saucepans back under the drips, which played a little ringing tune now that the saucepans were empty. The candle-ends on the floor

cast the strangest shadows and made him seem enormously tall. I

remembered what Father had said about his being a godlike youth; and

then I remembered that I had not remembered to be brisk.

We went back to the kitchen and I got Thomas some food.

Topaz was ironing her silk tea-gown, which looked wonderful-it had been a faded blue, but had dyed a queer sea-green color.

I think the sight of it made Rose extra gloomy. She was starting to

iron a cotton frock that hadn't dyed any too well.

"Oh, what's the use of messing about with summer clothes, anyway," she said.

"I can't imagine it ever being warm again."

"There's quite a bit of spring in the air tonight," I told her.

"You go out and smell it."

Rose never gets emotional about the seasons so she took no notice, but Topaz went to the door at once and flung it open. Then she threw her

head back, opened her arms wide and took a giant breath.

"It's only a whiff of spring, not whole lungs full," I said, but she was too rapt to listen. I quite expected her to plunge into the night, but after some more deep breathing she went upstairs to try on her

tea-gown.

"It beats me," said Rose.

"After all this time, I still don't know if she goes on that way because she really feels like it, if she's acting to impress us, or

just acting to impress herself."

"All three," I said.

"And as it helps her to enjoy life, I don't blame her."

Rose went to close the door and stood there a minute, but the night air didn't cheer her up at all. She slammed the door and said: "If I knew anything desperate to do, I'd do it."

"What's specially the matter with you, Rose?"

asked Thomas.

"You've been beating your breast for days and it's very boring. We can at least get a laugh out of Topaz, but you're just monotonously

grim."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," said Rose.

"I feel grim. I haven't any clothes, I haven't any prospects. I live in a moldering ruin and I've nothing to look forward to but old age."

"Well, that's been the outlook for years," said Thomas.

"Why has it suddenly got you down?"

"It's the long, cold winter," I suggested.

"It's the long, cold winter of my life," said Rose, at which Thomas laughed so much that he choked.

Rose had the sense to laugh a little herself. She came and sat on the table, looking a bit less glowering.

"Stephen," she said, "you go to church. Do they still believe in the Devil there?"

"Some do," said Stephen, "though I wouldn't say the Vicar did."

"The Devil's out of fashion," I said.

"Then he might be flattered if I believed in him, and work extra hard for me. I'll sell him my soul like Faust did."

"Faust sold his soul to get his youth back," said Thomas.

"Then I'll sell mine to live my youth while I've still got it," said Rose.

"Will he hear me if I shout, or do I have to find a Devil's Dyke or Devil's Well or something?"

"You could try wishing on our gargoyle," I suggested. Although she was so desperate, she was--well, more playful than I had seen her for a

long time and I wanted to encourage her.

"Get me the ladder, Stephen," she said.

What we call our gargoyle is really just a carved stone head high above the kitchen fireplace. Father thinks the castle chapel was up there,

because there are some bits of fluted stonework and a niche that might have been for holy water. The old wall has been white washed so often that the outlines are blurred now.

"The ladder wouldn't reach, Miss Rose," said Stephen, "and the Vicar says that's the head of an angel."

"Well, it's got a devilish expression now," said Rose, "and the Devil was a fallen angel."

We all stared up at the head and it did look a bit devilish;

its curls had been broken and the bits that were left were horns.

"Perhaps it would be extra potent if you wished on an angel and thought of the Devil," I suggested, "like witches saying mass backwards."

"We could haul you up on the drying-rack, Rose," said Thomas.

The rack was pulled up high with the dyed sheets on it. Rose told

Stephen to let it down, but he looked at me to see if I wanted him

to.

She frowned and went to the pulley herself. I said:

"If you must fool about with it, let me get the sheets off first."