The Angel in the Corner (43 page)

‘My God,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. How appalling that a man’s daughter should go through that, and he not know. You’re young and lovely, Jinny. There will be someone else. Forgive me. No one wants to hear that, but there will be. And until there is – won’t you please come and live with me, and be my daughter, and help me bring up my children?’

The stewardess passed quietly up the aisle like a night-nurse in a hospital, checking briefly but competently on her charges. When she had gone, Virginia said: ‘Yes, father. I’d like to.’

Soon after that, they fell asleep. They woke and smiled into each other’s travel-weary faces. They breakfasted together, talking easily. They were father and daughter travelling together, leaning close to each other to gaze down at fabulous Manhattan,
looking like a collection of grubby child’s bricks perched precariously on end. Windows flashed in the morning sun. As they passed over the Hudson river, crawling with craft of all sizes, the Statue of Liberty waved at them with the hopeful, useless gesture of a stay-at-home woman watching the trains go by.

They dropped on to the runway. The plane braked, slowed, and gathered speed to run towards the buildings. As it approached, Virginia could see her mother clinging to the rail on the airport roof.

Helen wore a mustard-coloured suit. With one hand, she held on to a large blob of scarlet hat. No one but the woman Helen was nowadays would dress like that to meet a plane.

‘Is Helen there?’ Virginia’s father asked. ‘I’ll stay in the background. I don’t want to meet her, but I would very much like to see what she looks like.’

‘She’s not there,’ Virginia said. ‘She’s waiting for me at the house.’ It was going to be distressing enough for Helen to learn that Virginia was going to live with her father. This much at least Virginia could do for her. She could allow her to remain a bright, attractive memory, and not let her be exposed as a spoiled and selfish ageing woman who looked for contentment in money, and looked in vain.

The plane stopped. Virginia drew her scarf forward across her cheek and got up to join the people crowding to the exit, the people who had sat submissively in the plane for twelve hours, but now could not wait to get out of it.

Her father sat in his place, searching in his brief-case for his passport. He reached up, took Virginia’s hand, and held it for a moment to his lips.

‘Hurry back to England,’ he said.

To
PRUDENCE

This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

Copyright © Monica Dickens, 1956

First published by Michael Joseph 1956

The moral right of the author has been asserted

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ISBN: 9781448203147
eISBN: 9781448202812

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