Part of the Furniture (22 page)

As she started the engine, he said, ‘A mismatch of generations, wouldn’t you say?’ slamming shut the car door, cutting off but still hearing her query, ‘Discovered who the father is yet?’ as she put the car in gear.

W
HEN ROBERT GOT BACK
to the kitchen Juno had disappeared with her package and Ann was mixing something in a bowl, using unnecessary force. Belligerently she said, ‘Decided when to harvest, have you?’

Mildly Robert answered, ‘Yes, next week,’ and sat down at the table. Presently he said, ‘So Juno has her wardrobe back, I expect she is pleased.’ When Ann did not answer, ‘Isn’t that the overcoat she suggested Bert might tolerate when he took exception to her sheepskin? I like the sheepskin, it has style.’

Ann grunted, ‘I dare say it is.’

Robert grinned, ‘So you are not interested?’

‘Should I be?’ Ann pounded the contents of the bowl.

Robert said, ‘You are angry with Priscilla. She is a tactless busybody.’

‘And not only that.’

‘But she has a good heart, Ann, we shouldn’t blame her for bringing that letter. We can’t shoot the messenger.’ When Ann did not reply, he said, ‘You must admit it’s quite funny about Juno’s mother, a talking point for the next generation.’ Ann grunted again.

Robert stretched his legs and stroked Jessie, who leaned her head on his knee. ‘I want to discuss Juno with you, Ann. Stop that a minute and sit down.’

Reluctantly Ann said, ‘Go ahead.’

Robert said, ‘I wanted her to see a specialist but she refuses. Do you think I should insist? I have left interfering rather late. Juno isn’t easy to talk to.’

Ann said, ‘You can say that again. Our doctor thinks she is fit, she’s a strong girl.’

Robert said, ‘I suggested a London man, but no, she says no.’

Ann said, ‘What power have you?’

‘You mean what rights?’ Robert frowned. ‘Rights?’

‘That’s what I mean.’ Ann looked him in the eye.

Robert said, ‘Ah. I stand corrected. None. I had not thought. I am nothing.’ Looking into Ann’s honest little eyes, he asked, ‘You think I have imagined too much?’

Ann nodded, pursing her mouth.

‘Then what do we do?’

‘Book her in for the birth in the Cottage Hospital.’

Disconcerted, Robert protested, ‘But I had imagined the child would be born in this house.’

‘First babies are born in hospital these days.’

‘But I—and Evelyn, we were born here.’

‘That was then, that was you and Evelyn—’

‘I will consult with the doctor.’

Ann said, ‘You do that,’ and tipped the contents of her bowl into a cake tin.

‘And Ann, we must plan for later. She has her room and bathroom, what about a nursery? We have plenty of rooms—’

Ann said, ‘You seem to assume—’

‘What?’ He tried to read the woman’s expression but she had turned away and was putting the cake tin in the oven. ‘I assume what, Ann?’

Ann said, ‘That she will stay on.’

‘Good God!’ Robert shouted. ‘Where else would she go? I can’t see a welcome with either her mother or her aunt. She belongs here, for God’s sake. I should have thought that was obvious.’ When Ann did not reply, he said, ‘We should have discussed all this sooner, but she is so hard to talk to, such a clam, she manages to make it difficult for me even to talk to you.’

Ann laughed, ‘You are right there.’

‘And what about cradles and things? We must be practical. What else does she need? I seem to remember a vast pile of nappies when Evelyn was a baby, great loads of laundry, constant incontinence.’

Ann said, ‘There is no shortage of cradles. There are two in the attic, yours and Evelyn’s. Oh,’ she said as Juno came into the room, ‘we were just speaking of you.’

‘We were saying,’—Robert sprang forward and pulled out a chair—‘sit down, dear girl, we were saying that it’s about time we made provision for your baby. Sit, please, we want to talk to you. No, don’t run away. Put it this way, we have to make a nest and line it. I will start by buying nappies. No, don’t shy away,’ for Juno was on her feet, ‘we have to talk.’

Juno said, ‘Talk?’ looking from Robert to Ann. ‘Talk?’

‘Yes. Break your habit of minimal communication. I don’t want to bully, but we have to plan for the baby.’

Juno said, ‘What I can’t make out is why you are so wonderfully kind. It’s unnatural. Nobody in my life has ever behaved like you. I am not in the habit, it shatters me.’

Robert said, ‘Then stick to practicalities. Where can I buy nappies, Ann?’

Ann said, ‘Almost anywhere.’

‘Then what else? What do babies need?’

Ann said, ‘Would you mind her using the shawls?’

‘Shawls?’

‘Cashmere. Your mother’s, they are all there, they were used for you and Evelyn both. Would you mind?’

‘Why should I? They are not sacred. What else does she need?’

Ann said, ‘I have done a bit of knitting.’

‘Show us.’

Ann opened a dresser drawer. ‘These,’ she laid sets of tiny jackets and leggings in front of Juno, ‘might be useful.’

Juno put her arms round Ann and hugged her. ‘How can I thank you?’

‘No need. Your head seemed in the clouds so I made a start, hope you don’t mind?’

Juno said, ‘Mind? How could I possibly—’

Ann said, ‘That’s those, then, but—’

Robert said, ‘What other miracle?’

‘There are some things,’ Ann’s expression was curious, ‘never been used, but as they are there, seems silly not to. They seemed all right when I looked at them, but then I thought—’ She hesitated.

Robert said, ‘Get on with it, Ann, come to the point.’

Ann said, ‘All right, then. Will you hold the chair while I reach up?’ Setting a chair against the dresser, she climbed up while Robert held it and reached for the top drawer from which she drew a brown paper parcel. ‘It’s some things I sewed once,’ she said. ‘Fashions change, but it’s good flannel, never worn, but if you think not I shan’t mind.’ She opened the parcel and pushed it across the table to Juno, who lifted out six little nightdresses with silk ribbon fastenings beautifully feather-stitched.

Juno said, ‘They are absolutely beautiful.’

‘Then I’d like you to have them.’

Juno stiffened. ‘I couldn’t—’

Ann said, ‘Please.’ Recovering her usual tone, she said, ‘They were meant to be used. They are not museum pieces. Before you know it the baby will have been sick on them. And now,’ she said, ‘if you’ve nothing better to do, Juno and Sir, will you stop cluttering my kitchen, I have work to do.’

Robert took Juno’s arm, led her to the terrace and, indicating a seat, said, ‘Sit down. Look at the view while I catch my breath.’

Juno did as he asked, looking across the garden to the stretch of moor, the farm and the ripe corn in the valley while the child inside her kicked against its confines. In her mind she dressed it in one of the little nightdresses and wondered what it would be like to hold in her arms, what would it smell like? Beside her Robert let out a long sigh. ‘Oh, the poor woman. We never guessed.’

Juno looked at him, turning sideways to stare.

Robert said, ‘We were so full of our own joy, Emma and I. Why Ann lit off to Bradford nobody really knew, she came back. She had married Bert and left almost immediately. She never spoke of her time away; she moved into the house to work. We got the impression she had not been happy, but we were absorbed in our own happiness; we did not question and, like you, she was no talker. But I see it all now.’

‘She sewed these lovely clothes for her own baby?’

‘Must have done.’

‘Lost it? Miscarried? Born dead? It was Bert’s?’

Robert said, ‘I imagine so. One can’t ask. Too late now. This is her way of telling.’

‘She loved Evelyn,’ Juno said.

‘And she will love your child if you will let her.’

Juno exclaimed, ‘My child will be grateful for every scrap of love that comes its way.’ Then she said, ‘I shall be so proud to dress it in those nightdresses.’

Robert said, ‘You will make up to her for my and Emma’s selfishness.’

‘What could you have done?’ Juno snapped. ‘If she had wanted to talk, she would have. She did not waste her love, she spent it on Evelyn.’

‘You are shrewd.’

Then Juno said, ‘She can’t have wanted Bert’s baby, she doesn’t like him.’

Robert said, ‘True enough,’ and sat on, looking at the land he loved, enjoying a silence that grew between them which he presently broke by asking, ‘Have you a name for your child?’

Juno said, ‘Inigo.’

‘A very good name.’

‘And since we are onto babies,’ Juno surprised him, ‘could you tell me what a newborn baby looks like? I have never seen one.’

And Robert, remembering Evelyn, thought it looks exactly as its father will when he is a very old man, but he said, ‘They look as though they had been soaking in the bath for ever. They look all crinkled. They look very red and very cross and awfully old. Their finger and toenails are as tender as the shells of baby shrimps.’ Juno said, ‘That I shall like, thank you, Robert.’

T
HE HORSES PLODDED ROUND
the cornfield drawing the reaper, their heads nodding, harnesses creaking and jingling in the still air. Juno could smell their sweat as they went by. Each time they passed, the oblong of uncut wheat in the middle of the field grew smaller, the rabbits crouching in it more vulnerable.

Several bolder or sillier rabbits had already made a run for it and been snapped up by Jessie and a lurcher from the village. There had been shrill screams of ‘rabbit pie’ from watching children, a cheer when a brace of pheasants whirred up to wing into the wood, and Robert had shouted, ‘Leave her,’ when a hare broke racing, ears flattened along her back, to slip through the hedge, leaving Jessie and her pups frustrated. ‘We have very few hares,’ Robert called to Juno, ‘but the rabbits are a pest.’

The children from the village were armed with sticks and men not otherwise busy were strategically positioned round the field; now and again Bert, driving the reaper, would let out a whoop and point out a victim. Juno had often witnessed the same scene on the Johnson/Murray farm, had eaten rabbit pie, rabbit stew, rabbit ragout. She had skinned rabbits and handled their slippery bodies, but today there was something about their furry despair which sickened. Even Bert’s aged Nipper, rejuvenated by the tension, was lying in wait and, as she watched, stood up, head cocked, paw raised, to pounce on a harvest mouse. Then it was down his throat like an oyster, chumped, swallowed, gone. Juno struggled to her feet to climb back to the house.

Priscilla was sitting on the terrace. ‘Come and join me.’ She patted the seat. ‘Tired?’ she asked. ‘It’s very hot.’

‘So-so.’ Juno sat, legs apart, easing her back, pushing her hair off her forehead, feeling sweat trickle between her breasts.

Priscilla said, ‘Such a peaceful rural scene. You’d never think there was a war raging in Europe, would you? Lovely cornfields, aren’t they?’

Juno said, ‘They make me think of ghettos.’

‘Oh?’ Priscilla turned to look at her, ‘How’s that?’

Juno said, ‘I have been reading an article about ghettos surrounded by troops and the Jews inside, that’s what is happening to the rabbits in the corn.’

Priscilla said, ‘But my dear! They are the most frightful pest!’

Juno said, ‘I gather that’s what the Germans say about the Jews.’

‘I like your analogy.’ Priscilla quizzed Juno’s face. ‘I hope you inspire your child with a similar philosophy,’ she said. ‘It or he/she won’t be long now. Are you impatient? Are you nervous?’

Giving nothing away, Juno said, ‘I am not impatient, I just feel ponderous,’ but she thought, I am afraid, and I can’t ask Mrs Villiers what having a baby is like, she is childless. And my mother, who is going through the same process, isn’t here. I am glad of that. I am solo. I admit I am a bit daunted,’ she said.

‘Our old doctor is very competent,’ Priscilla exclaimed. ‘He will look after you and they are all perfect dears in the Cottage Hospital. I shall come and visit you there.’

Juno said, ‘It defeats me. Why is everybody so kind?’

‘Simple.’ Priscilla smiled. ‘You give Robert and all who care for him something to enjoy.’

‘Something other than Evelyn?’

‘That’s about it’

Juno said, ‘I had not thought of myself as enjoyable.’

‘Then it is time you did,’ said Priscilla crisply. ‘There, they have finished and here comes Robert. I expect he is in need of a drink. Hullo,’ she said as Robert sat beside her. ‘All over bar the threshing.’

‘Yes.’ Robert stretched his long legs. ‘I have arranged for the threshing machine to come next week.’

‘As soon as that?’ Priscilla looked surprised.

Robert said, ‘Might as well get tucked up for the winter.’

Juno said, ‘I’ll get you a drink,’ and went into the house.

When Juno was out of earshot, Priscilla said, ‘My word, Robert, that girl has imagination,’ and repeated Juno’s metaphor of the rabbits.

Robert said, ‘Ah. Humbling. In these blissful surroundings we do not worry enough about what’s going on.’

‘And a fat lot of good it would do,’ Priscilla answered. ‘Let us worry about what is under our nose. Your little Juno is not feeling the joys of anticipation usually associated with girls in her condition.’

‘Nor am I,’ Robert said. ‘And to be honest, Priss, I worry. That’s why I hurry to get the threshing over. I don’t want anything interfering with that event. I rather wish old Davey’s partner had not gone off to the war, he was a lot more spry.’

‘Dr Davey is experienced, don’t fuss.’

‘He is not all that agile, he’s getting old.’

‘When did agility matter in delivering a baby?’

Robert laughed, ‘I don’t know, Priss—’

Priscilla said, ‘You have grown very fond of her, haven’t you?’

Simply, Robert said, ‘Yes.’ As Juno came from the house with a glass of beer, he said, ‘Thank you, Juno, that is just what I needed.’

Priscilla watched Robert drink and, while drinking, watch Juno, who had sat again to view the sun sliding behind the distant hills and the shadows lengthen over the cropped fields. Suddenly nervous, Priscilla said she must go, there was much to do at home, she had stayed too long and talked too much, but she talked to conceal the shock of surprise she felt, reading the expression in Robert’s eyes when he watched Juno over the rim of his glass.