Coming Home (18 page)

‘Is that him, in the shorts? He looks quite nice. And is this your mother? Yes, of course it is. I recognise her, too. Why isn't Jess here?’

‘Because she wasn't born. She's only four. Dad's never seen her.’

‘Never
seen
her? I can't believe it. What's he going to say when he does see her? She'll think he's just another man, or an uncle or something. Would you like to see my photographs?’

‘Oh, yes, please.’

They got up from the bed and went to Loveday's end of the dormitory, which was much nicer and lighter, being so close to the big windows. The school rule was that you were allowed two photographs, but Loveday had about six.

‘This is Mummy, looking perfectly beautiful, all dressed up in her white fox furs. And this is Pops…isn't he heaven? It was taken one day when he was shooting pheasants, that's why he's got a gun. And he's got Tiger with him, Tiger's his Labrador. And this is my sister Athena, and this is my brother Edward, and this is Pekoe the Peke, and you met him in the shop too.’

Judith found herself overwhelmed. She had never imagined anyone could have such a handsome, beautiful, and glamorous lot of relations, all looking as though they had stepped from the pages of some glossy society magazine, like
The Tatler.

‘How old is Athena?’

‘She's eighteen. She had her London Season last year, and then she went off to Switzerland to learn French. She's still there.’

‘Is she going to be a French mistress or something?’

‘Golly, no. She's never done a stroke of work in her life.’

‘What will she do when she comes back from Switzerland?’

‘Stay in London, probably. Mummy's got a little house in Cadogan Mews. Athena's got strings of boy-friends, and she's always going away for the weekend and things.’

It sounded an enviable existence. ‘She looks like a film star,’ Judith said a little wistfully.

‘She does, a bit.’

‘And your brother?’

‘Edward? He's sixteen. He's at Harrow.’

‘I've got a cousin of sixteen. He's at Dartmouth. He's called Ned. Your…’ She hesitated. ‘Your mother doesn't look old enough to have almost grown-up children.’

‘Everybody says that. It's so boring.’ Loveday set the last photograph down, and then settled herself with a thump on her own narrow, white-covered bed. ‘Do you like this place?’ she asked abruptly.

‘What? School, you mean? It's all right.’

‘Did you want to come here?’

‘Not particularly. But I had to. I had to start boarding-school.’

‘Because of your mother going away?’

Judith nodded.

‘I wanted to come here,’ Loveday told her. ‘Because I wanted to be near home. Last September I was sent to the most dreadful place in Hampshire, and I was so homesick that I cried for weeks and then I ran away.’

Judith, who already knew this, having been told by the shop assistant in Medways, was filled anew with admiration. ‘I can't imagine anyone being so brave.’

‘It wasn't particularly. I just made up my mind that I couldn't bear the horrible place for another instant. I had to get home. Running away always sounds so difficult, but it was actually quite easy. I just caught a bus to Winchester Station, and then got on a train.’

‘Did you have to change platforms?’

‘Oh, yes, twice, but I just asked people. And then when I got to Penzance I rang up Mummy from the public call-box and told her to come and fetch me. And when we got home I told her she was never, ever to send me far away again and she promised she wouldn't. So I came here, and when Miss Catto heard about running away, she said I could be a weekly boarder, because she didn't want it happening again.’

‘So…’ But there was no time for more of this fascinating conversation, as the whole building was suddenly rent by the clangour of the school bell, summoning them to lunch. ‘Oh, bother, I can't bear it. I hate that bell, and it's Tuesday, so there'll be prunes and custard for pudding. Come on, we'd better go or we'll get a row.’

They sped downstairs, to assemble in their classrooms. But, before they parted, there was time for one last exchange.

‘Before supper, in the dormitory. And we'll open the parcel together.’

‘I can't wait.’

After that it felt as if the whole colour and the shape of the day had been miraculously changed. Judith had experienced, previously, the elations and swings of mood which affect every child; the sudden, reasonless gusts of happiness, even ecstasy. But this was different. An event. A series of events. Her Christmas present had come at last, and because of this the first overtures of friendship with Loveday Carey-Lewis had been made, and there was still the ceremonial unwrapping of the cedarwood box to look forward to. As the afternoon progressed, her high spirits were compounded by other unexpected bonuses, and it began to seem as though her day had been charmed and nothing could go wrong. At lunch it wasn't prunes and custard which she hated for pudding, but vanilla sponge with syrup, which was a treat. Then she got eight out often for her French verb test, and when it was time to don games gear and head for the windy hockey pitches, she saw that the grey rain of the morning had blown away. The sky was clear, a pristine blue; the breeze was perfectly bearable, and early daffodils, lining the paths which led to the games fields, were beginning to open into full yellow flower. Brimming with physical energy, she even enjoyed the hockey, racing up and down the wing as the game moved to and fro, and whacking the leather ball with effortless precision whenever it came her way. So well did she perform that at the end of the match Miss Fanshaw, the games mistress, a sturdy lady with an Eton crop and pea-whistle, who was known for being grudging with her praise, said enthusiastically, ‘Well done, Judith. Go on playing like that, and we'll have you on the team.’

And then it was tea, and then prep, and at last time to change for supper. She fled upstairs, two steps at a time, to the dormitory, drew the white cotton curtains of her cubicle, and tore off her clothes. She even managed to grab a bathroom before anyone else got there first, but even so, by the time she returned to the dormitory, Loveday was waiting for her, sitting on Judith's bed, and already dressed in the drab green gabardine frock with the white linen collar and cuffs, which was their regulation garb for the evenings.

‘Gosh, you've been quick,’ Judith exclaimed.

‘It was only netball, so I wasn't too sweaty. Hurry up and get dressed, and then we can start. I've got my nail scissors here, to cut the string.’

Judith flung on her clothes any old how, buttoning the front of her dress as she stuffed her feet into her shoes, then slapped a brush over her hair, tied it back with a ribbon, and was ready. She took the scissors and cut the string, but then had to pick away at the coarse stitches with which the hessian had been sewn into place. After the hessian was a layer of brown paper, and then a thick wadding of newspaper, which was exciting enough in itself, being covered with strange Eastern newsprint and characters. Everything smelt spicy and foreign. The last wrapping was shiny white paper. This was torn away, and, at last, the Christmas gift revealed. They sat in silence and gazed at it.

Finally, Loveday broke the silence. ‘It's divine,’ she breathed, and the words came out like a satisfied sigh.

And it was indeed very beautiful, more splendid than Judith had dared to hope. The wood was the colour of honey, smooth as satin and intricately carved all over. Its ornamental latch was silver, embossed in a flower-like design, and the Chinese lock slipped into this like a little padlock. The key to the lock was fastened, by means of a strip of glued paper, to the lid of the box. Loveday instantly removed this and handed the key to Judith, and she slid it into the side of the lock, and a hidden spring was touched and released, and the padlock opened. She lifted the latch and raised the lid and a mirror slid forward to prop the lid open. The front of the box could be parted, opening out like wings, to reveal two miniature chests of drawers. The scent of cedar filled the air. Loveday said, ‘Did you
know
it was going to be like this?’

‘Something like this. My mother had one in Colombo. That's why I asked for it. But it wasn't anything
nearly
as lovely as this.’

She opened one of the little drawers. It slid sweetly and smoothly, revealing dovetailed joints and a gleaming red lacquer finish within.

‘What a place to keep your treasures! And you can lock it up. That's the best. And hang the key around your neck. Goodness, you're lucky…let's close it up again, and lock it, and then I can have a go with the key…’

They might have played with it forever had not Matron come bouncing into the dormitory. She heard their voices and flung back the cubicle curtains with an angry swish, and, much startled, they looked up to see her glaring down at them, her appearance not improved by the nurse's veil which she wore low on her eyebrows, as though she were a nun.

‘What are you two doing, whispering away? You know perfectly well, you're not allowed in cubicles together.’

Judith opened her mouth to apologise, because she was rather frightened of Matron, but Loveday wasn't frightened of anybody.

‘Do look, Matron, isn't it gorgeous? Judith got it from her father in Ceylon, for Christmas, only it's taken ages to get here.’

‘And why are
you
in Judith's cubicle?’

‘I was only helping her to open it. Oh, do look. It's got a lock, and darling little drawers…’ Displaying its charms, she opened one to show Matron, and did this in such a beguiling manner that Matron's fury abated slightly, and she even took a step forward to peer through her spectacles at the object upon the bed.

‘I must say,’ she admitted, ‘that's very neat. What a pretty thing.’ And then she reverted to her normal hectoring manner. ‘Where on earth are you going to keep it, Judith? There's no space in your locker.’

This problem had not occurred to Judith. ‘I suppose…I could take it to Aunt Louise's at half-term.’

‘Haven't
you
got somewhere safe, Matron?’ Loveday cajoled. ‘In the sick-room, or somewhere? One of those cupboards. Just for the time being?’

‘Well. I'll see. Maybe. Meanwhile clear up all that mess and get it tidied away before the supper bell goes. And back you go to your own cubicle, Loveday, and don't let me catch you together again.’

‘No, Matron. I'm sorry, Matron. And thank you, Matron.’

Loveday's tones were so sweet and repentant that Matron frowned. For a moment she stared suspiciously into Loveday's face. But Loveday only smiled, and after a little, unable to find anything more to complain about, Matron turned and stalked off. They kept straight faces until she was out of earshot, and then dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.

St Ursula's

Sunday, February 9th.

Dear Mummy and Dad,

My Christmas present from Dad came this week and thank you, thank you, it is exactly what I wanted and even better. I was so afraid it had got lost. There is nowhere to keep it in my cubicle or my locker, so Matron has taken it and put it in the bottom of the Red Cross cupboard, which I suppose is kind of her but means I can't go and gloat. When I go to Aunt Louise's for half-term (29th February), I shall take it and put it in my room there. Thank you again, I really love it.