Sister of the Housemaster (21 page)

There was an atmosphere of parting about the groups that stood chatting afterwards, of things ending, of preparations for departure to other places. The celebrities had gone, and now the guests were going, too. There were warm farewells, hopes of future meeting
’
s, protestations of delight about the Festival, and then Arnold
’
s party began to walk back to his house. As they came into the narrow corridor of the Black Alley, it was necessary for Ingrid and Patrick to fall behind. The calmness and serenity of the service were still with Ingrid.

“
I shall be leaving for town directly after tea,
”
said Patrick quietly. The special service had been held in the afternoon, and Nora would have tea ready for them.

“
I see,
”
replied Ingrid.

“I
don
’
t think I shall come down much more now that Sylvia is better. I tell you this so that you need have no fear that my presence will emba
r
rass you in future.
”

“
Please do not stop coming on my account,
”
said Ingrid.
“
I
shall not be here much longer. Term ends in ten days
’
time, and almost at once Sylvia and Arnold are leaving for the Continent, and then I shall be free to go.
”

“
Back to this work that you could never bring yourself to tell me about.
”

“
I am sorry about that,
”
said Ingrid.

“
I was so
rr
y, too, but the time for being sorry is past. My abortive attempts at friendship must seem pathetic to you.
”

“
You have never seemed pathetic to me.
”

“
That is somethi
ng to be grateful for. Well, I h
ope you will get a great deal of satisfaction from this work, Ingrid.
”

“
Thank you,
”
she said, trying not to sound sad.

“
It is a very worthwhile job, and I can imagine you being extre
m
ely efficient at it, and most
compassionate
... well, Ingrid, this, I take it, is our good-bye.
”

She could not answer. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she was glad that they were still in the dimness of the Black Alley. Ahead, Laurence and his mother hid reached the archway at the end
and stepped into the brilliance of the quadrangle.
“
Good-bye is very final
,”
she said.

“
Yes.
”

He stopped and faced her,

“
Wh
y
do you feel like crying?
”
he asked her.
“
I could almost imagine there were tears in your eyes, tears in your voice. You can
’
t be sad because you are saying good-bye to me?
”

She had stopped when he stopped. She said;
“
Patrick, I am never sure of you.
”

“
Never sure of me? Why not?
”

“
I am never sure when you are serious, when you are laughing at me, when I can trust you or whether I can trust you at all. Somehow, we got off on the wrong foot. It can
’
t be
helped, it is done now, but...”

“
In other words, you are saying: Is it really necessary to say good-bye? Is that it?
”

“
Well, is it necessary?
”
asked Ingrid.

“
My dear Ingrid, you have told me, in no uncertain terms, that what you do is no concern of mine. I have, several times, laid myself open to slights from you. I do not propose to go on doing it. Last night, because of a mistake I apparently made, I did it for the last time. You also told me that my colossal conceit made that mistake possible. I do not flatter myself that this goodbye is going to hurt you very much. Shall we join the others?
”

“
You go on and join them,
”
she said.
“
I will
c
ome in a minute.
”

“
Ingrid,
”
he said quickly, in a changed voice.

“
I think I left my prayer book in the Cathedral,
”
she said, catching at my excuse to leave him, not sure of her ability to conquer the desire to dissolve into tears. But Patrick wa
s
sure this time of the tears in her voice, and he said again, urgently;

“
Ingrid.
”

Then they heard steps in the stone, corridor, and it was Laurence coming back to find them. Ingrid made a valiant effort to recover herself, and Patrick, once more withdrawn and serious, walked so
b
erly at her side, as they went to meet him.

After tea, while other guests still surrounded them and made any further private conversation impossible, Patrick said his goodbyes and left. Ingrid knew that he would not again seek her out
.

Arnold left the Headmaster
’
s house and walked across the forecourt of the Cathedral, thankful for the early evening quiet after the business of the day. For in summer time, the Cathedral wa
s
a crowded, much-visited place, many coach loads of people arrivi
n
g every day and thronging the beautiful, lofty building. At this time of day, however all the coa
c
hes and buses had departed, the inequitable scraps and litter had been cleared away, and the quiet, and serenity had closed down once more. Not that Arnold disapproved of the coaches. The Cathedral belonged to everybody, and it was right that everybody should enjoy it, admire it, be transformed, however little, by its beauty; but
h
e deplored the untidiness that came with so many people, and the sacrilege of leaving litter in this lovely place.

He passed the Dean
’
s house and two boarding houses, all grey with antiquity, saturated with
his
tory, yet still teeming with young life. The quiet cloisters, the stone corridor
...
In a week
’
s
t
ime, term would be ended, this composite life would have broken down once more into the hundreds of individual lives, and the occupants of the school scattered. He and Sylvia would be on the eve of their departure for the Continent, and though Arnold had long since lost many of
illusions, and no longer expected holidays with Sylvia to be carefree, companionable and
light-hearted
, he would be driving through France, a country for w
hi
ch he had a great affection. And when they reached the south of France, and Sylvia basked on the beaches and made friends with people in the hotels, he might be able to slip away sometimes on pursuits of
his
own. Laurence would be off to the Dolomites with a party of sixth-form boys, and Patrick was flying to the States, combining pleasure with the formidable task of talking aircraft-sales with the Americans. And Nora? Arnold paused in his reflections as he thought of Nora. She was going to Cornwall for a week or two with her mother; not, perhaps, particularly exciting for a young woman. He often wished that somebody would come into her life to add warmth and richness to it. But she would enjoy it in her quiet way, and come back to school in the autumn with a little more color in her cheeks and a little more light in her eyes.

He came
to
his House, It was nearly supper time, yet, somewhere in the building, boys were cooking themselves snacks. He could smell from the hall the odd mixture of cooking food, oil or methylated spirit, and burning. He had forbidden those stoves, at intervals, with monotonous regularity, yet they popped up again and again. Well, it was almost the end of term. Next term he would impose a firm veto, and enlist Nora
’
s help in carrying out that veto.

Sylvia was waiting for him in the living-room, a Sylvia who looked very put out and abused. She had been better tempered of late, but t
hi
s evening she was cross, and the cause was not long in appearing.

“
What do you think?
”
she asked Arnold.
“
I had Pamela here this afternoon.
”

“
Oh yes?
”
queried Arnold.

“
In a most peculiar mood,
”
went on Sylvia.
“
I couldn
’
t t
hi
nk what had come over her. She was very strange. Of course, you knew she was in love with Patrick?
”

“
I guessed as much.
”

“
She
’
s been quite mad about
him
for ages, and I have no doubt that all her devotion to me was simply on
his
account. Always angling to get him at her house for week-ends, or for dinner, always throwing herself at
his
head. Well, it isn
’
t surprising. Although he is my brother, I can see how charming he is. But Pamela has no restraint. Always has had what she wanted, but Patrick wasn
’
t to be had. Apparently, it came to a showdown last week, when he was staying her
e.
”

“
Indeed?
”

“
And Pamela went too far, and robbed Patrick of all the initiative, which, I must say, is a mad
thing
for any woman to do, and naturally, was rather humiliated for her pains. Because Patrick isn
’
t in love with her and never has been, and has never given her cause to
think
so. So she came here tins afternoon, in what I can only call a most evil mood, accusing me, me of all people, of deliberately misrepresenting
the facts, and persuading her that Patrick was in love with her, and so on, and so on. It was most extraordinary.
”

Arnold said nothing. He knew when it was wise
to
hold
his
peace.

“
Well, really, she showed herself in such a bad light, showed such venom and spite, that I couldn
’
t help thinking it was a good t
hi
ng that Patrick
h
adn
’
t fallen in love with her. Family or no family, wealth or no wealth, I shouldn
’
t care to
have such a vixen related to me. I was really amazed.
”

“
Unrequ
i
ted love isn
’
t an easy thing to endure, though some people make a better job of i
t
than others.
”

“
Well, Pamela hasn
’
t made any kind of a job
o
f it. She was like a mad woman, raving at me, reproaching me. As if I had anything to do with it. Ah well, we shan
’
t be seeing much more of her, I
’
m sure, if there
’
s no Patrick to be got at.
”

So much, thought Arnold, for all Sylvia
’
s plans; and he could not help feeling pleased that they had fallen through.
H
e did not suppose that Patrick would marry anybody until he made up his own mind to it, but he was glad that his bride would not be Pamela. Patrick deserved better than that.

Ingrid heard nothing of all this. She was in the kitchen preparing supper. Nora, who had been chatting to her, was about to leave.

“
I
shall be really glad when term ends,
”
said Nora.
“
It seems to have been particularly tiring this term. I
’
m so looking forward to Cornwall
—
the cliffs and the sand and the bathing.
”

“
I
’
m sure you deserve a holiday,
”
said Ingrid.
“
Couldn
’
t you spare a few days to come too? We could fix you up with us. I should love it.
”