Camomile Lawn (30 page)

‘Hurry up, Sophy, I’m whacked.’

‘All right.’ She disappeared into the bathroom carrying the nightdress. Tony scrubbed his hand over his jaw feeling the bristles. From the bathroom he heard small exclamations, the sound of taps being turned on and off, the clatter of glass on the glass shelf. ‘Hurry up,’ he called, ‘I’m half dead.’

Sophy came out of the bathroom on a choking wave of scent, her black hair brushed, wearing the white nightdress. She held it up on one side like a ball dress. He stared at her, taking in long arms and legs, black eyes, black hair, the shadow of her small bush through the white silk, her hand outstretched.

‘What do you think this is?’ She reached out to him. ‘She’s got gallons of Chanel 5 in there and Elizabeth Arden make-up. What d’you think it can be?’ She handed him a Dutch cap. ‘What is it for?’

‘You’d better put it back where you found it.’

‘Oh, is it medical?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Something like a truss? For a bosom?’

‘Buck up and get into bed. Put that thing back first, though.’

‘All right.’

‘Now get into bed and go to sleep.’

‘Don’t leave me.’ She was afraid again.

‘I’ll be downstairs.’

‘Can’t you wait until I’m asleep? Mrs Floyer does. Kiss me goodnight like her.’

‘Who’s she?’

‘Our Rector’s wife, the twins’ mother.’

‘I’m not the Rector’s wife,’ said Tony through gritted teeth.

‘She sits on the end of my bed.’

Tony sat on a chair at a safe distance, feeling her school skirt and bloomers bunching under him.

‘Won’t you kiss me?’ She held out her arms.

He bent over her and kissed her mouth. ‘You stink,’ he said.

‘I didn’t mean to use so much.’ She lay back in the bed. ‘Why don’t you lie here, if you’re so tired?’

‘For Christ’s sake go to sleep,’ he yelled at her, exasperated.

‘Sorry.’ She closed her eyes and, as he watched, relaxed suddenly like a cat and slept. Presently he stood up and looked down at her full mouth, short thick lashes. He pressed his hand against his genitals, grunting with anger and need.

Downstairs he stood by the telephone, the receiver on the table, dialling with one hand while he fingered his flies with the other. He got no answer from Polly and the telephone rang disregarded in Calypso’s house. ‘Bloody little sexual hazard,’ he cried out loud. ‘Under age, too,’ he muttered in anguish. ‘Miss Stevens, indeed. What about me?’ He lay face down on the sofa, blotting out the feel of Sophy’s mouth against a cushion while he wooed sleep.

S
ARAH, HOPING TO FIND
Helena’s daily help, rang the bell in Enderby Street. She was surprised when Tony Wood, dishevelled and sleepy, opened the door.

‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘You were not at the party last night.’ She sounded aggrieved.

Tony explained himself, brushing his hair back with his fingers, straightening his loosened tie.

‘I am a friend of Helena’s. I met her through Polly and Calypso.’

‘My nieces.’ Sarah eyed him with chill.

‘Then you must be Sophy’s aunt. She’s upstairs.’

‘Sophy’s at school.’

‘She’s asleep in Helena’s bed, or was when I last looked. She ran away.’

‘Perhaps you can explain. Do you mind if I come in?’ Sarah crossed the threshold. Tony hastily buttoned the top of his trousers and reached for his coat.

‘Has there been a fire?’ Sarah sniffed the atmosphere in the drawing room, wondering what a fireman was doing in Helena’s house. ‘Where’s Helena’s daily?’

‘I don’t think she comes today. Would you like some coffee or something?’

‘I will make you some,’ said Sarah, taking charge. ‘Open the windows and get rid of this fug. While I make coffee you can explain.’

Guiltily Tony obeyed, throwing wide the windows, letting in the chill air. He joined Sarah in the kitchen.

‘Why did she run away? Is the child in love with you or—’ He could see the phrase ‘something silly’ freeze on her respectable lips.

‘I wish—I mean, no. She came here because she couldn’t find Polly. She—’

‘I must have missed her. I got in late from Helena’s party. Perhaps you had better tell me what you know.’

‘Do you know where Helena is?’

‘By now she should be arriving at home in Cornwall.’

As she made coffee Sarah gave Tony a bare account of Helena’s departure with Richard and Max, but not all the reasons for it. In his turn Tony told of finding the lights showing, the door open and Sophy in the kitchen. He did not tell her why Sophy had run away.

‘Why did she run away?’

‘I think she’d better tell you herself, she was very upset last night. She doesn’t want to go back.’

‘Wouldn’t have run away if she wanted to stay,’ said Sarah crisply. Tony recovered his equilibrium. He had not, he told himself, done anything. Well, not much.

‘Helena will be put out,’ said Sarah.

‘Yes. Thank you.’ He took the cup she tendered.

‘I’ll see what I can do. I have to go and see Calypso. I can take Sophy with me.’

‘I tried to phone her in the night; she didn’t answer. I tried Polly’s number first.’

‘Polly’s away. I sleep very deeply. I am staying in her house.’

‘Oh,’ said Tony neutrally. ‘Oh.’ They sat on either side of the table. Tony drank coffee. Sarah watched him, wondering where he fitted into the scheme of things, whether he was trustworthy.

‘So you are a friend of my nieces?’

‘Yes.’ She sounded coldly inquisitorial. Next she would be enquiring whether he went to bed with them. He felt disinclined to tell her that whereas he and Polly had slept together they no longer did, that when he had last invited himself into Calypso’s bed she had refused him on the feeble pretext that she had not enjoyed herself the last time. As for Sophy, it was a case of thought more than deed. At some later date he hoped he would rectify the situation. He smiled at Sarah, putting on the charm.

‘You must be Oliver’s mother.’

‘Yes.’

‘How is Oliver?’ Blast his guts, he thought, remembering Oliver snitching Calypso from under his nose, so confident, so handsome.

‘Oliver? Did you say Oliver?’ Sophy came eagerly into the kitchen. ‘Aunt Sarah, how are you, how is Oliver?’ She hugged Sarah. ‘I am glad to see you,’ she said sincerely.

‘Go and put a dressing gown on, then I’ll make you some breakfast. You’ll catch cold in that thing.’

‘Isn’t it beautiful? Aunt H has got some terrific clothes. Where does she get the coupons?’

‘I don’t know, darling. Go and wrap up.’ Sarah was startled by the transparent garment.

Tony carried his cup to the sink. He wondered whether Sarah, who had followed Sophy from the room, believed he had left Sophy’s virtue intact. It would seem unlikely. Helena’s silk nightdress made her look much older than she was, more desirable. He called up the stairs, ‘I have to go, Sophy. I’ll ring up and find out how you are. Where will you be?’

‘With Aunt Sarah at Polly’s.’ Her cheerful voice came down the stairs. ‘Or with Calypso.’

‘Thank you, Mr Wood. We’ll let you know.’ Sarah leant over the banisters. He knew that she suspected him of malintent. ‘I will take care of her now.’ She was dismissive.

‘I will be off, then,’ he said. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye,’ said Sarah. ‘Thanks again.’

Tony walked down the street feeling empty. For a few hours Sophy had turned to him; now she had her robust tweed-suited aunt. Oliver’s mother, rather a dragon.

‘When you are dressed,’ said Sarah to Sophy, lying in the bath, ‘we must go to Calypso. There’s been a letter from Oliver. I gather something has happened to Hector.’

‘If he’s dead Oliver will be delighted.’

‘What a dreadful thing to say.’

‘But it’s true,’ said Sophy. ‘Nothing would please him more.’

‘Sophy!’ Sarah was shocked.

‘It doesn’t please me, though.’ She reached for her school vest and bloomers. ‘And I hate these clothes,’ she said viciously.

‘Can you tell me why you ran away? Is it serious? What happened? What did you do?’

‘Nothing happened. I didn’t do anything. It’s serious to me. I am not going back.’ Sophy’s face was closed. Sarah was realistic enough to know that Sophy would sooner part with her back teeth than oblige with information. Quietly she thanked her God who voted Conservative and was on the side of the Allies that she was not blessed with a daughter. She sat watching Sophy put on her school skirt, tie, jersey and sensible shoes, obliterating the brilliant image that had appeared in the kitchen.

‘We can catch a Number Eleven bus if we walk to Sloane Square,’ she said.

‘Of course.’ Sophy looked as pleased as though Sarah had said Pumpkin Coach.

Presently they stood on Calypso’s doorstep and pressed the bell. Inside the house Fling barked furiously, running to the door, his nails clicking on the tiles. Nobody came.

‘She must be out.’

‘I’m sure she’s in.’ Sophy rang the bell again, holding her thumb hard on the button. Fling barked crazily, choking with excitement. Sophy pushed open the letter flap and tried to peer in. The door opened suddenly.

‘Hullo,’ said Calypso. ‘Come in.’ She picked up the dog with one hand and scooped letters off the mat with the other. ‘Come in,’ she repeated. ‘Nice to see you.’ She kissed her aunt and Sophy and began sorting the letters vaguely. ‘Mostly bills,’ she said, laying them down. ‘Shut up, Fling, be quiet now. He’s made a mess, mind where you put your feet—he hasn’t been out yet.’

‘I don’t suppose he could last, it’s long after ten.’ Sarah, prepared to lavish sympathy, was furious with herself at her implied reproach.

‘I’ll clean it up presently. Mrs Welsh doesn’t like him. I thought you were at school, Sophy.’

‘I’ve run away.’

‘I don’t blame you. I was asked to leave mine, accused of flirting with the gardener, I ask you, as Uncle Richard would say. A spotty youth. It was an insult to my intelligence. I was about as ignorant as a newborn baby.’ Calypso made a faint choking sound, thinking of her ignorance so brilliantly enlightened by Hector. ‘Come to the kitchen. I’ll make tea or something.’ She walked down the hall, her body unbalanced by her pregnancy.

‘I had a letter from Oliver, darling.’ Sarah watched Calypso fill the kettle, wondered when the child was due.

‘Told you Hector was dead, I suppose? He must be pleased.’

‘Oh no, darling.’ Sarah was shocked.

‘How are his boils?’

‘What boils?’ Sarah was caught off balance.

‘Oliver’s. Hector wrote that Oliver had desert boils. Didn’t he tell you?’

‘No.’ Sarah wondered how to get through the barrier of indifference Calypso wore. ‘I came, I came,’ she said bravely, ‘to see whether there is anything I can do.’

Calypso watched the kettle. ‘Thanks, Aunt Sarah, there’s nothing at all.’

Sarah asked: ‘When did you hear? Why haven’t you—’ She paused.

‘Why haven’t I told you all? Rather be alone, I suppose.’ She spooned tea into the pot and poured from the kettle. ‘Except that I’m not alone, there’s this bloody baby. I can’t wait to get my body back to myself. Roll on the ninth month.’

‘Naturally you are upset.’ Sarah flinched at her inadequacy.

‘Why can’t they tell the truth? What’s the use of “missing believed killed”? They only say that because they haven’t found the body. They didn’t find Walter’s. They only say it to prolong the agony.’ Calypso blazed with anger. ‘D’you like milk and sugar?’ Her expression snapped back to normal.

‘Just milk, please.’ Sarah sat on a kitchen chair, her back stiff. ‘It’s the most terrible shock when you are in love with—’

‘I don’t know what love is,’ Calypso said. ‘Sugar, Sophy? I married Hector for his money. I’ve got his money. He made a generous will, everything to go to the baby after me. I can marry again if I want to and still keep the money for my life. The child is provided for separately.’ She sipped her tea, smiled wryly. ‘“Separate” being the operative word. Once this lump and I are separate everything will be OK. That about wraps it up. There isn’t any “in love”, Aunt.’

‘I’ll go and clear up that dog mess and give him a run.’ Sarah stood up, too horrified to speak.

‘His lead’s on the table.’ Calypso watched her aunt leave the room with the dog, then grinned at Sophy. ‘She can walk him round Parliament Square and cool down,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you stay with me, Sophy, love, while they get used to the idea that you won’t be going back.’

‘D’you think they will let me?’

‘Yes, I do. Monika tried to kill herself. Tony rang me up before you came. Don’t worry, she didn’t succeed. Aunt Helena will be busy smoothing things down in Cornwall. I’ll take charge. Aunt Sarah can’t have you in Bath, she is dreadfully busy with her W.V.S. You stay here for a while and amuse me.’

‘If only I could.’

‘You can, we’ll fix it. Have to get you some clothes, you can’t go around looking like that.’

‘Coupons?’

‘Mrs Welsh has an inexhaustible supply at a pound each from the
Marché Noir
.’

‘A pound! Gosh!’

‘I’m rich, so what’s a pound?’

‘What did you say about Monika? Aunt Sarah said she was ill.’

‘She would. I daresay she is ill. All Tony knows is that she tried to jump over the cliff. I think the war is affecting people’s minds. Do you know what Hector’s letters have been about? Trees, planting trees, “designing” is the word he used, designing woods. You’d think he had no interest in anything else.’

‘She wouldn’t fall far,’ said Sophy, who wasn’t listening. ‘The Army have blocked the Terror Run with barbed wire.’

Sarah, her equanimity recovered, came back into the kitchen with the dog.

‘What does Oliver write about in his letters, Aunt Sarah?’

‘Oh, darling, he writes that the desert is cold and gritty, that he is bored, that he is tired, that he is—’

‘Frightened?’

‘He doesn’t say so but no doubt he is. He can’t write what one wants to hear because of censorship. It’s all so horrible.’ Sarah sat down and stared at her niece anxiously.

‘Hector wrote about trees. Before that he wrote about politics, that the whole Army will vote Labour next time and so would he and that he was going to give up politics. Well, it doesn’t matter now.’