Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

"What, at this time of night ?"

She gave a whinnying little laugh.

"Of course not, you silly child.

He must come up to London- I'm a professional photographer.

Look here, ask him--No, don't bother." She ran upstairs.

Neil and the boys had disappeared by then. I was sorry, because I was quite a bit hungry, in spite of the enormous dinner; I suppose my

stomach had got into practice. I feared that if I hung about, Simon

might feel he ought to dance with me--he was dancing with Rose again

and I wanted him to go on. So I went upstairs.

It was pleasant being by myself in the house--one gets the feel of a

house much better alone. I went very slowly, looking at the old prints on the walls of the passages. Everywhere at Scoatney one feels so

conscious of the past; it is like a presence, a caress in the air. I

don't often get that feeling at the castle; perhaps it has been altered too much, and the oldest parts seem so utterly remote. Probably the

beautiful, undisturbed furniture helps at Scoatney.

I expected to hear voices to guide me back to the gallery but every

thing was quiet. At last I came to a window open on to the courtyard

and leaned out and got my bearings--I could see the gallery windows. I could see the kitchen windows, too, and Neil and Thomas and Stephen

eating at the table. It did look fun.

When I went into the gallery, Father and Mrs.

Cotton were at the far end and the Vicar was lying on the sofa by the middle fire place reading Mrs. Fox-Cotton's book. I told him about

Thomas and Stephen.

"Let's go and talk to them," he said, "unless you want me to dance with you. I dance like an india-rubber ball."

I said I should like to see the kitchens. He got up, closing the

book.

"Mrs. Fox-Cotton said that was no book for little girls," I told him.

"It's no book for little vicars," he said, chuckling.

He took me down by the back stairs- he knows the house well, as he was very friendly with old Mr. Cotton. It was interesting to notice the

difference once we got into the servants' quarters; the carpets were

thin and worn, the lighting was harsh, it felt much colder. The smell was different, too--just as old but with no mellowness in it; a stale, damp, dispiriting smell.

But the kitchens were beautiful when we got to them- all painted white, with a white enamelled stove and the hugest refrigerator.

(aunt Millicent only had an old one which dribbled.) Neil and the boys were still eating. And sitting on the table, talking hard to Stephen, was Mrs. Fox-Cotton.

As I came in, she was handing him a card. I heard her say:

"All you have to do is to give that address to the taxi-driver. I'll pay your fare when you get there--or perhaps I'd better give you some money now." She opened her evening bag.

"Are you really going to be photographed?" I asked him. He shook his head and showed me the card. It had LA.

AR-ATSR

VHO-A'OGV-NZR on it, under a beautifully drawn little swan, and an

address in St. John's Wood.

"Be a nice child and help me to persuade him," she said.

"He can come on a Sunday. I'll pay his fare and give him two guineas.

He's exactly what I've been looking for for months."

"No, thank you, ma'am," said Stephen, very politely.

"I'd be embarrassed."

"Heavens, what's there to be embarrassed about his I only want to photograph your head. Would you do it for three guineas ?"

"What, for just one day ?"

She gave him a shrewd little look; then said quickly:

"Five guineas if you come next Sunday."

"Don't do it if you don't want to, Stephen," I said.

He swallowed and thought. At last he said: "I'll have to think it over, ma'am. Would it be five guineas if I came a little later ?"

"Any Sunday you like- I can always use you. Only write in advance to make sure I shall be free. You write for him," she added, to me.

"He'll write himself if he wants to," I said coldly--she sounded as if she thought he was illiterate.

"Well, don't you go putting him off. Five guineas, Stephen. And I probably won't need you for more than two or three hours."

She grabbed a wing of chicken and sat there gnawing it.

Neil offered me some, but my appetite had gone off.

Stephen said it was time he and Thomas rode home.

Neil asked them to stay on and dance, but didn't press it when he saw Stephen didn't want to. We all went to see them off-the bicycles were somewhere at the back of the house. On the way, we passed through a

storeroom where enormous hams were hanging.

"Old Mr. Cotton sent us one of those every Christmas," said Thomas.

"Only he was dead last Christmas."

Neil reached up and took the largest ham off its hook.

"There you are, Tommy," he said.

"Oh, Thomas, you can't!" I began--but I didn't want Neil to call me Great-Aunt Cassandra so I finished up: "Well, I suppose you have." And I certainly would have fainted with despair if Thomas had refused the ham. In the end, I undertook to bring it home because he couldn't

manage it on his bicycle.

"But swear you won't go all ladylike and leave it behind," he whispered. I swore.

After the boys had gone we went back to the hall and found the others still dancing.

"Come on, Cassandra," said Neil, and whirled me off.

Dear me, dancing is peculiar when you really think about it. If a man held your hand and put his arm round your waist without its being

dancing, it would be most important; in dancing, you don't even notice it--well, only a little bit. I managed to follow the steps better than I expected, but not easily enough to enjoy myself; I was quite glad

when the record ended.

Neil asked Rose to dance then, and I had a glorious waltz with the

Vicar; we got so dizzy that we had to flop on a sofa. I don't fancy

Rose followed Neil as well as I had done, because as they passed I

heard him say: "Don't keep on putting in little fancy steps on your own." I guessed that would annoy her and it did; when the music

stopped and he asked her to come out into the garden for some air, she said "No, thanks," almost rudely.

After that, we all went back to the Long Gallery where Father and Mrs.

Cotton were talking as hard as ever.

Mrs. Cotton broke off politely as we went in and the conversation was general for a while; but Mrs. Fox-Cotton kept yawning and patting her mouth and saying "Excuse me"--which only drew more attention to it-and soon Topaz said we ought to be going. Mrs.

Cotton protested courteously, then rang for the car. There was a late feeling about the evening--just as there used to be at children's

parties (the few I ever went to) after the first nurse arrived to take a child home.

I picked up the ham as we went through the hall and tactfully kept it under the wrap Topaz had lent me- it was a most peculiar sort of bur

nous thing but it came in very useful.

Simon and Neil went out to the car with us and said they would come

over and see us when they got back from London- they were driving up

the next day to stay for a fortnight.

And so the party was over.

"Great Heavens, Cassandra, how did you get that?"

said Father when he saw me nursing the ham.

I told him, and explained that I had been hiding it in case he made me refuse it.

"Refuse it his You must be insane, my child." He took it from me to guess how much it weighed. We all guessed--which was a sheer waste of time as we haven't any scales.

"You're nursing it as if it were your first-born child," said Father when it was returned to me eventually.

I said I doubted if anyone's first-born child was ever more welcome.

After that we all fell silent--we had suddenly remembered the