The English Tutor (16 page)

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Authors: Sara Seale

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Clodagh laughed, put her nail-file away, and snuggled down under the bedclothes.

Clancy turned her head from the window to regard her cousin and suddenly had the quite preposterous notion that they might fall in love with one another. Mark was just the sort of
man
Aunt Kate would consider suitable for Clodagh.

What are you
smiling
at?

Clodagh asked curiously.


Nothing. Are you in love with anyone, Clodagh?


Now what makes you ask that?


I only wondered. You meet so many young men.


You

d better go to bed. You

ll get cold hanging out of the window.


It

s such a lovely night. I don

t know how you can bear Dublin,
r
eally.


I should go melancholy mad if I was stuck here all the year round,

said Clodagh simply.

It

s like a prison.


A prison! Kilmallin?


You

ve never known anything else, but after all, you don

t have much of a life, do you?

Clancy turned from the window and crossed to the bed to turn out the lamp.


I have all I want, Conn and Kilmallin,

she said.

Good night, Clodagh. Come again soon.

They kissed in the new, soft darkness, then Clancy felt her way out of the room.

She was thinking of this as she stood beside Mark, waving to Clodagh as the Dublin train pulled out. I have Conn, and I have
Kilmallin
, and I have Clodagh, she was thinking, and everything is just as it used to be.

Mark was looking at her quizzically.


Shall we make a day of it, and give work a miss,

he said unexpectedly.

She looked inquiring and a little alarmed.


We might have lunch in the town and go to a movie as it

s wet. How would you like that?

She thought she would like it very much, although a day alone with the English tutor had its drawbacks, but she and Brian seldom went to cinemas.

They had lunch at the same hotel where Kevin had taken her on market day, and she remembered vividly how he had given her five whole pounds to spend on a fairing.

She found it a little difficult to talk to Mark until he made it easy for her by asking questions about Conn and Clodagh. She was always willing and eager to talk about them.


You did like Clodagh, didn

t you?

she said, watching him anxiously. You never could be sure what was going on behind that rather expressionless English mask of his.


She seemed very charming, and very pretty,

he said obligingly.


She liked you, too.

His firm lips twitched.


You

re not turning match-maker, by any chance, are you?

he said.

She looked abashed.


Oh, no,

she said hastily,

I wouldn

t dream of it.


Besides,

he said,

it wouldn

t really get rid of me. It would only bring me into the family, so to speak, and you wouldn

t like an English cousin.

Her eyes were bright with confusion.


I never thought—I mean, I wasn

t trying to get rid of you. I

ve got over that. I mean, if I

ve still got to have a governess, I

d rather have you because you do know how to teach.

His eyes twinkled.


Thank you. That, I suppose, is quite a concession coming from you.


It is so. And about the English—I

m trying to like the English. If only they weren

t so darned sure of themselves!

His smile was tender.


And you

re not at all sure of yourself, are you, Clancy?

She looked at him gravely.


I don

t know. I

m in-between, aren

t I? I

m not a child, but nobody thinks I

m grown-up.

He beckoned for his bill.


Never mind. You

re growing. There

s no hurry,

he said. They visited the one cinema in the town and sat in a stuffy atmosphere of wet mackintoshes and strong tobacco. The
film
was an old one which Mark had already seen in England, but Clancy sat through it, entranced, and hardly stirring. They had a late tea in the town, and by the time they were in the ear again Clancy

s constraint with him had gone.


You know, you really are quite nice to go out with,

she confided to him ingenuously.

When our governesses took us, they were always improving our minds, just as if it was lessons.

She asked him to drop her at the crossroads.


I think I

ll go and see Conn,

she said. He slowed up, but he did not stop.


I shouldn

t if I were you. He

s probably busy with the horses at this hour.


Of course he is. I can help him feed. Besides, I want to tell him about the film. He

d like that bit where the horse died. It made me cry.


All the same, I think you

d better leave it till tomorrow. Time

s getting on and you

ll be late for dinner,

he said, and turned off past the crossroads for home.


Now,

said Clancy disgustedly,

you

ve spoilt it all.

He glanced at her angry profile with a faint smile.


No,

he replied,

if anyone spoilt things, it will be you.

She drew away from him and sat in silence, biting her lips until they reached Kilmallin, where, barely remembering to thank him for her day, she
raced into the house and up the stairs to Brian.

The rest of July was inclined to be wet and there were not many days when they could picnic at Kinross Sands. Kevin and Mark fished the river on many afternoons, and sometimes they would take the boat and troll the loch with Clancy rowing them. At these times she seemed completely happy, quite uncaring when Kevin bellowed at her, and even accepting Mark with a good grace, since her father desired his company.

Mark

s own relations with her did not seem greatly to improve, although there were times when she appeared quite glad of his companionship, but she lived in an odd world of her own, made happy by trivial things, rather than people, unless it were Conn or her father. Moods fell from her as lightly as summer rain. She would have a wordy, and often tearful battle with him in the schoolroom, and ten minutes later he would hear her sweet, untroubled whistling as she rowed herself on the loch.

At the beginning of August Clodagh paid them a weekend visit, bringing a parcel of clothes for Clancy.


Mother sent them,

she said,

so they may be awful. I believe some of them are things I had in my teens and outgrew—but give them to Biddy if
t
hey

re no good. Let

s go and try them on.

She made Clancy wear one of the frocks for dinner, and insisted on doing her hair in a chignon and fixing it with jewelled combs.


Don

t you think that

s effective?

she asked Mark, standing back to admire her handiwork.


The frock is charming,

he said.

That smoky blue is a good colour for her—goes with her eyes. But I should never dare haul you over the coals in the schoolroom with your hair done like that, Clancy.


Wouldn

t you? Does it make me look very old?

she asked, feeling her head gingerly.


Very old, and very dignified,

said Mark solemnly.


Oh, you

re laughing at me!


Never mind, the result is very fetching.

But the result did not please Kevin when he saw it at dinner. He frowned across the table and demanded to know what in the world she had done to her hair. She turned her head swiftly at his sharpness, and in the lamplight, Mark caught the pure clean line of her jaw, the smoky eyes wide with inquiry, the delicate planes of the temples swept free of the dark hair.

Kevin stared at her for a full minute without speaking, then his hand crashed down upon the table.


Go and put yourself right,

he shouted,

and never come to this table like that again!

The tears sprang to her eyes and she got up, kicking her chair back clumsily.


Ah,
Kilmallin
, don

t be such an old bear,

said Clodagh.

I did Clancy

s hair for her. I think it

s nice, even if it is a bit old for her now.


Then don

t go giving her ideas of that sort again,

Kevin thundered.

And while I think of it, you can take some of that paint off your lips while you

re staying in my house. Brian get on with your dinner and don

t sit there gaping at me like a scared rabbit.


You

re enough to scare anyone when you shout like that, you cross old man,

Clodagh said, and pouted at
him.

The two girls made their escape to the schoolroom as soon as the meal was over, and Mark lighted his pipe and strolled out on to the terrace.

It was one of those gentle summer nights with mist rising from the loch and the hills blue in the distance. It was so still that the sound of Aunt Bea

s knitting-needles came sharp and distinct from her solitary
corner
of the terrace.

Mark sat down in the deck-chair beside her and puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. He had not liked that little scene at dinner, or the strain in Clancy

s small face.

Aunt Bea spoke suddenly without raising her eyes from her knitting.


It was Kitty, you know,

she said.


I beg your pardon?

She was given to making vague statements of this kind and expecting her listener to understand.


Kitty, my sister-in-law—the children

s mother.


Oh, yes?


She used to do her hair like that. I noticed the resemblance at once. That

s what upset Kevin.


I see.

Mark looked out across the rough lawn, already wet with dew.

The children are like their mother?


Oh, very like, especially Clancy, now that she is older. The eyes, you know, and the shape of the face.


Your brother must have been very fond of his wife,

Mark said, wondering whether Kitty

s death accounted for Kevin

s impatient intolerance for other women.

Aunt Bea put down her knitting and pulled the grey woollen shawl more closely about her shoulders.


In his own way he was,

she said,

though he

s always had contempt for women. Some men are like that, I think. It was a good thing Kitty died—she was killed in a hunting accident, you know—he would have made her very unhappy.


It was sad for the children,

Mark said gently.

I think to Clancy especially, her mother would have made a great difference.

She looked at him, and her vague expression had quite gone.


No,

she said quietly,

you

re quite wrong. Clancy admires her father. If Kitty had lived and been unhappy there would have been a constant pull between loyalties. The child might have come to hate her father, and all men because of him.

Mark sat silent. How little one knew people, he thought. Here was this unattractive, elderly woman, so vague and nondescript that, for years, she had been a cypher in her brother

s house, with a clearer grasp on human relations than any of them.

He said impulsively:


You must have suffered a good deal all these years.

The vague look came back into her pale eyes, and she took up her knitting again.


Oh no,

she said.

You mustn

t think that. At first, perhaps, it was a little difficult, but then—I was the unwanted spinster sister, you see, and
i
t was good of Kevin to give me a home. I used to wish sometimes that I could fill their mother

s place with the children, but that, of course, was impossible. I love Brian very much, you know.


Have you no fondness for Clancy, then?


Oh yes, of course, but the boy was especially my own. I came here when he was a baby, and then he was delicate and seemed to need me, though, of course, Agnes always took first place. Agnes is a very possessive woman and she was Kitty

s nurse before the children

s, and devoted to her.


I should have thought,

said Mark a little dryly,

that might have given her more affection for Clancy.


Well, you see, Kitty was foolish. Clancy was her first child and she insisted on doing everything for her herself, and Agnes was jealous. When Brian came, she had the handling of him from the start, and then of course, poor Kitty died so soon after.

Mark knocked out his pipe and put it in his pocket.

What

s going to happen to Clancy, Miss Bea?

he asked.


Clancy?

She sounded vague.

Oh, she

ll marry in a year or so. Irish girls marry young, you know.


If you

ll forgive my saying so,

said Mark gently,

she doesn

t get many opportunities of meeting people.

She rolled up her knitting and put it away in an untidy canvas hold-all.


We haven

t many neighbours,

she said placidly.

I expect she will marry Conn Driscoll. There isn

t much money, but Clancy will have a little when Kevin goes. It would be very suitable. I think I shall go now. It

s getting chilly.

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