Giant's Bread (27 page)

Her beautiful husky voice rose from its whisper. Sebastian made a quick gesture and she stopped.

‘You're right. I must be careful.'

‘I can't understand it,' grumbled Sebastian. ‘Even his music doesn't seem to mean anything to Vernon now. He's taken every suggestion from Radmaager and been like a lamb. It's unnatural!'

‘We must wait. It will come back. It's reaction – reaction and Nell together. I can't help feeling that if the
Princess in the Tower
is a success, Vernon will pull himself together. He must feel a certain pride – a sense of achievement.'

‘I hope so,' said Sebastian heavily. ‘But I'm a bit worried about the future.'

‘In what way? What are you afraid of?'

‘War.'

Jane looked at him in astonishment. She could hardly believe her ears. She thought she must have mistaken the word.

‘
War
?'

‘Yes. The outcome of this Sarajevo business.'

It still seemed to Jane a little absurd and ridiculous.

‘War with whom?'

‘Germany – principally.'

‘Oh, surely, Sebastian. Such a – a – far-away thing.'

‘What does the pretext matter?' said Sebastian impatiently. ‘It's the way money has been going. Money talks. I handle money – our relations in Russia handle money. We know. From the way money has been behaving for some time, we can guess what is in the wind. War's coming, Jane.'

Jane looked at him and changed her mind. Sebastian was in earnest and Sebastian usually knew what he was talking about. If he said war was coming, then, fantastic as it seemed, war would come.

Sebastian sat still, lost in thought. Money, investments, various loans, financial responsibilities he had undertaken, the future of his theatres, the policy to be adopted by the weekly paper he owned. Then, of course, there would be fighting. He was the son of a naturalized Englishman. He didn't wish in the least to go and fight, but he supposed it would be necessary. Everyone below a certain age would do so as a matter of course. It was not the danger that worried him, it was the annoyance of leaving his pet schemes to be looked after by someone else. ‘They'll make a mess of it, sure to,' thought Sebastian bitterly. He put the war down as being a long job – two years – perhaps more. In the end, he shouldn't wonder if America was dragged into it.

The Government would issue loans – War Loan would be a good investment. No highbrow stuff for the theatres – soldiers on leave would want light comedy – pretty girls – legs – dancing. He thought it all out carefully. It was a good thing to get a chance to think uninterruptedly. Being with Jane was like being alone. She always knew when you didn't want to be spoken to.

He looked across at her. She, too, was thinking. He wondered what she was thinking about – you never quite knew with Jane. She and Vernon were alike there – didn't tell her thoughts. She was probably thinking about Vernon. If Vernon should go to the war and be killed! But no – that mustn't be. Sebastian's artistic soul rebelled. Vernon mustn't be killed.

The production of the
Princess in the Tower
has been forgotten by now. It came at an unfortunate time, since war broke out only about three weeks later.

At the time it was what is called ‘well received'. Certain critics waxed a little sarcastic over this ‘new school of young musicians' who thought they could revolutionize all existing ideas. Others praised it with sincerity as a work of great promise, though immature. But one and all spoke enthusiastically of the perfect beauty and artistry of the whole performance. Everyone ‘went to Holborn', ‘such miles out of the way, dear, but really worth it' to see the attractive fantastic drama, and ‘that wonderful new singer, Jane Harding. Her
face
, dear, is simply wonderful – quite medieval. It wouldn't be the same without her!' It was a triumph for Jane, though a triumph that was short lived. On the fifth day she was forced to retire from the cast.

Sebastian was summoned by telephone at an hour when Vernon would not be there. Jane met him with such a radiant smile that he thought at first that his fears were not going to be realized.

‘It's no good, Sebastian. Mary Lloyd must go on with it. She's not too bad, considering. As a matter of fact, she's got a better voice than I have and she's quite nice-looking.'

‘H'm, I was afraid Hershall would say that. I'd like to see him myself.'

‘Yes, he wants to see you. Not that there's anything to be done, I'm afraid.'

‘What do you mean? Nothing to be done?'

‘It's gone, my child. Gone for good. Hershall's too honest to hold out any real hope. He says of course you never can be absolutely sure. It might come back with rest, etcetera, etcetera. He said it very well, and then I looked at him and laughed – and then he had to look shamefaced and own up. He was relieved, I think, at the way I took it.'

‘But Jane, darling Jane …'

‘Oh, don't mind so much, Sebastian. Please don't. It's so much easier if you don't. It's been a gamble, you know, all along – my voice was never really strong enough. I gambled with it – so far I won – now – I've lost. Well, there it is! One must be a good gambler and not let the hands twitch. Isn't that what they say at Monte Carlo?'

‘Does Vernon know?'

‘Yes, he's most awfully upset. He loved my voice. He's really quite broken-hearted about it.'

‘But he doesn't know that –'

‘That if I had waited two days, and not sung on the opening night of his opera, it would have been all right? No, he doesn't know that. And if you are loyal to me, Sebastian, he never will.'

‘I shan't make promises. I think he ought to know.'

‘No, because really it's unwarrantable what I've done! I've laid him under an obligation to me without his knowledge. That's a thing one shouldn't do. It isn't fair. If I had gone to Vernon and told him what Hershall said, do you suppose he would ever have consented to let me sing? He'd have prevented me by main force. It would be the meanest and cruellest thing in the world to go to Vernon now and say: “See what I have done for you!” Snivelling and asking for sympathy and gratitude ladled out in a soup plate.'

Sebastian was silent.

‘Come now, my dear, agree.'

‘Yes,' said Sebastian at last. ‘You're right. What you did was unethical. You did it without Vernon's knowledge, and it's got to be kept from him now. But oh! Jane darling, why did you? Is Vernon's music worth it?'

‘It will be – some day.'

‘Is that why you did it?'

Jane shook her head.

‘I thought not.'

There was a pause. Sebastian said:

‘What will you do now, Jane?'

‘Possibly teach. Possibly go on the stage. I don't know. If the worst comes to the worst, I can always cook.'

They both laughed, but Jane was very near tears.

She looked across the table at Sebastian and then suddenly rose and came and knelt down beside him. She laid her head down on his shoulder and he put his arm round her.

‘Oh, Sebastian – Sebastian …'

‘Poor old Jane.'

‘I pretend I don't mind – but I do … I do … I loved singing. I loved it, loved it, loved it … That lovely Whitsuntide music of Solveig. I shall never sing it again.'

‘I know. Why were you such a fool, Jane?'

‘I don't know. Sheer idiocy.'

‘If you had the choice again –'

‘I'd do the same thing again.'

A silence. Then Jane lifted her head and said:

‘Do you remember saying, Sebastian, that I had great “driving power”? That nothing would turn me aside? And I said that I might be more easily turned aside than you thought. That between Vernon and me, I should go to the wall.'

Sebastian said:

‘Things are queer.'

Jane slipped down on the floor beside him, her hand still in his.

‘You can be clever,' said Sebastian, breaking the silence. ‘You can have the brains to foresee things, and the wits to plan things and the force to succeed, but with all the cleverness in the world you can't avoid suffering some way or another. That's what's so odd. I know I've got brains, I know I'll get to the top of anything I undertake. I'm not like Vernon. Vernon will either be a Heaven-sent genius, or else he'll be an idle dissipated young man. He's got a gift if he's got anything, I've got ability. And yet with all the ability in the world, I can't prevent myself getting hurt.'

‘No one can.'

‘One might, perhaps, if one gave up one's whole life to it. If you pursued safety and nothing but safety, you'd get your wings singed, perhaps, but that would be all. You'd build a nice smooth wall and hide yourself inside it.'

‘You're thinking of somebody in particular? Who?'

‘Just a fancy. The future Mrs George Chetwynd if you want to be exact.'

‘Nell? Do you think Nell has the strength of character to shut herself out from life?'

‘Oh, Nell has got an enormous power of developing protective colouring. Some species have.' He paused, then went on. ‘Jane – have you ever heard from – Joe?'

‘Yes, my dear, twice.'

‘What did she say?'

‘Very little. Just what fun everything was, and how she was enjoying herself, and how splendid one felt when one had had the courage to defy convention.' She paused and then added, ‘She's not happy, Sebastian.'

‘You think not?'

‘I'm sure of it.'

There was a long silence. Two unhappy faces looked into the empty fireplace. Outside taxis hooted as they sped rapidly down the Embankment. Life went on …

It was the ninth of August. Nell Vereker turned out of Paddington station and walked slowly down towards the park. Four-wheelers passed her with old ladies in them laden with many hams. Staring placards were flaunted at every street corner. In every shop was a queue of people anxious to buy commodities.

Nell had said to herself many times:

‘We're at war – actually at war,' and had not been able to believe it. Today, for the first time, it seemed to come home to her. A train journey where the ticket office refused to change a five pound note had proved the turning point. Ridiculous, but there it was.

A taxi passed and Nell hailed it. She got in, giving the address of Jane's flat in Chelsea. She glanced at her watch. It was just half-past ten. No fear that Jane would be out so early.

Nell went up in the lift and stood outside the door, having rung the bell. Her heart was beating nervously. In another minute the door would open. Her small face grew white and strained. Ah! now the door was opening. She and Jane were face to face.

She thought Jane started a little – that was all.

‘Oh!' she said. ‘It's you.'

‘Yes,' said Nell. ‘May I come in, please?'

It seemed to her that Jane hesitated a minute before drawing back to let her enter. She retreated into the hall, shut a door at the far end and then drew open the sitting-room door for Nell to pass in. She followed her, closing the door behind her.

‘Well?'

‘Jane, I've come to ask you if you know where Vernon is?'

‘Vernon?'

‘Yes. I went to his rooms – yesterday. He's left. The woman there didn't know where he'd gone. She said his letters were forwarded to you. I went home and wrote to you asking for his address. Then I was afraid you wouldn't tell me, wouldn't even answer, perhaps, and I thought I'd come instead.'

‘I see.'

The tone was non-committal, unhelpful. Nell hurried on.

‘I was sure you'd know where he was. You do, don't you?'

‘Yes, I know.'

A slow answer, unnecessarily slow, Nell thought. Either Jane knew or she didn't.

‘Well, then?'

Again a pause. Then Jane said:

‘Why do you want to see Vernon, Nell?'

Nell raised a white face.

‘Because I've been such a beast – such a beast! I see it now – now that this awful war has come. I was such a miserable coward – I hate myself – simply hate myself. Just because George was kind and good – and – yes, rich! Oh, Jane, how you must despise me. I know you do. You're quite right to despise me. Somehow this war has made everything clear – don't you find that?'

‘Not particularly. There have been wars before and there will be wars again. They don't really alter anything underneath, you know.'

Nell was not paying attention.

‘It's wicked to do anything except marry the man you love. I do love Vernon. I always knew I loved him, but I just hadn't the courage … Oh, Jane, do you think it's too late? Perhaps it is. Perhaps he won't want me now. But I
must
see him. Even if he doesn't want me, I must tell him …'

She stood there looking piteously up at Jane. Would Jane help her? If not, she must try Sebastian – but she was afraid of Sebastian. He might refuse flatly to do anything.

‘I could get hold of him for you,' said Jane slowly, after a minute or two.

‘Oh, thank you, Jane. And Jane – tell me – the war?'

‘He's applied to join up – if that's what you mean.'

‘Yes. Oh, it's dreadful – if he should be killed. But it can't last long – it'll be over by Christmas – everybody says so.'

‘Sebastian says it will last two years.'

‘Oh, but Sebastian can't know. He's not really English. He's Russian.'

Jane shook her head. Then she said:

‘I'll go and –' she paused – ‘telephone. Wait here.'

She went out, closing the door behind her. She went to the end of the passage and into the bedroom. Vernon raised a dark rumpled head from the pillow.

‘Get up,' said Jane curtly. ‘Wash yourself and shave yourself and try and make yourself reasonably decent. Nell's here and wants to see you.'