The Good Plain Cook (20 page)

Perhaps this was a false start. The rest of it would be somewhere else, hidden. She bent down and looked beneath the desk,
lifting the edge of Blotto’s hair-matted old blanket. A ripe whiff like stewed meat came up, and she moved away, holding her
nose. She looked around the room. Of course. The filing cabinet.

On her knees, she wrenched up the wooden shutter. The top drawer was stuck; as she tugged it open it made a squealing sound
which reminded her of the lorry she’d seen dragging that poor cow down Petersfield High Street. But she blinked that thought
away. When she’d finally got the thing fully open and delved her hand to the back, it was empty. The next drawer opened easily,
but there was nothing in there apart from a copy of
The Socialist Sixth of
the World
. Ellen threw it on the floor in disgust. The other drawers yielded only dog-eared envelopes and stray photo-corners. Then
she looked beneath the low table with the wireless on top; all she found was the wastepaper basket, so she rummaged in there,
too, fingering a drying apple core and a screwed-up piece of paper. She was about to move on when she noticed that the paper
had something typed on it, so she smoothed it flat and read the words:
Sunlight.
Shadow. The girl brings him cakes on a tray. His blood is heavy
with wanting
.

She almost screwed it back up and threw it away – she was thinking about looking behind the filing cabinet now – but something
made her read it again.
Sunlight. Shadow. The
girl brings him cakes on a tray. His blood is heavy with wanting.

Ellen stood, holding the page in her damp fingers. She smoothed it out once more, trying to get rid of all the creases this
time, to make it completely flat, thinking that perhaps she’d missed something. She read it again.
The girl
brings him cakes on a tray.

There was no mistake, no hidden word, nothing missing in the creases of the paper.
Sunlight. Shadow.
Who else could it be? Who else could it be, this girl with cakes who made his blood heavy? Her stomach squeezed tight, and
she felt a hot liquid at the back of her throat. She leant on the desk to steady herself until the nausea had passed.
The girl brings
him cakes on a tray.
How had she not seen it before? His novel was nothing, the story over before it had begun, the heroine ridiculous, and nothing
like her – apart from those ankles; it was clear to Ellen now that Crane had been sitting in this place for months doing absolutely
damn all; but
who
was this
? She heard herself saying it aloud. ‘Who is this?’ Her voice was small, strangled. ‘Who is this?’ she repeated, knowing the
answer full well.

· · ·  Twenty-nine  · · ·

She threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Tiptoeing to the door, she listened. Not a sound. Keeping close to the wall,
she edged along the landing to Diana’s room. Once inside, she could make out Diana’s suitcase, still buckled, sitting by the
window. There was also a large lump beneath the bedclothes. A large lump which didn’t move when Geenie hissed, ‘Diana!’ So
she sat on the edge of the bed, flicked on the lamp, and poked the lump. It twitched. ‘You’re back!’ she whispered.

‘Go away,’ said a muffled voice, and the lump shifted.

Geenie sat a while longer, looking at the lump, wondering whether to leave it alone. Then she thought of the saggy centre
of her own bed, and how lonely it was there, and she said, ‘Something exciting happened, while you were away.’ She stretched
out a hand and tried to find the edge of the sheet so she could peel it back. Grabbing a piece of smooth cotton, she pulled,
but a hand appeared and gripped the sheet hard, preventing it from moving.

‘Please come out.’

‘No.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Again, Geenie tugged at the bedclothes. This time she caught Diana off guard, and the sheet came away
suddenly, revealing Diana’s back. The girl was curled in a cramped ball, and was still wearing her blouse and skirt. Her hair
was pulled into a tight plait so intricate in design, and so securely knotted, that it must hurt to wear it. ‘What happened
to your hair?’ Geenie whispered.

‘My mother did it.’

Geenie tapped Diana’s tense shoulder. ‘Look at mine! Look at my hair, Diana!’ She crawled around the bed, trying to see her
friend’s eyes. But Diana remained scrunched tight, her face pressed to the mattress.

‘Please look.’

Diana covered the back of her head with both hands, as if ducking a blow, and curled into an even smaller ball.

Geenie sat on her heels and sighed. Deciding she may as well wait, she stretched out along what was available of the bed,
and tried to stay as still as possible. Her friend couldn’t remain in that position forever, she reasoned, and, in the end,
her curiosity about the exciting thing that had happened would surely get the better of her.

Eventually, Diana stirred. Very slowly, she removed her hands from her head and caught hold of Geenie’s wrist. Geenie waited
a moment before whispering, ‘I’m glad you came back.’

‘Daddy said we had to. I could’ve stayed with Mummy.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

Diana lifted her head. ‘It just wasn’t the right time. Mummy’s got a very important show on and it wasn’t the right time for
her. Any other time, I could’ve stayed.’

Geenie put her other hand on top of Diana’s. ‘I’m glad you came back,’ she repeated.

After a while, Diana uncurled herself and knelt next to Geenie on the bed. ‘What happened to your—’

‘I cut it,’ said Geenie, sitting up.

Diana clamped her fingers around the top of Geenie’s scalp and twisted her head this way and that so she could examine the
bob fully. Finally, she nodded her approval. ‘Was it awful here without me?’

‘Yes,’ said Geenie, without thinking. ‘Quite awful. Apart from the haircut. And Ellen and I bathed in the stream and I soaked
her.’

‘Well,’ said Diana, yawning, ‘I don’t mean to stay long.’

‘What does your father say?’

‘You know Daddy. He hardly says anything. Unless it’s about the workers.’ She looked Geenie in the face. ‘We have to carry
out the plan, so I can get home.’

Geenie had almost forgotten about the plan.

‘We have to start as soon as possible,’ continued Diana, lying flat on the bed, stretching her arms and closing her eyes.
‘We’ll begin first thing in the morning.’

Geenie remained sitting upright, watching over her friend until Diana’s plump bottom lip fell away from her teeth and she began to snore, softly.

. . . .

‘Keep still, Miss.’

Kitty looked peculiar with all those pins in her mouth. Her face was set, her voice louder than usual.

‘Now turn around, please.’ She pressed the cool steel tip of the inch tape into the nape of Geenie’s neck and ran the length
of it down her spine. ‘Two pompoms, was it?’

‘Yes. And they must be black,’ interjected Diana, who was sitting on a kitchen chair, watching, having already been measured
for her costume.

‘You said, Miss.’

‘How long will it take?’ asked Geenie.

‘That depends.’ The tape was now around Geenie’s waist. Kitty held the ends together for a moment, then let it go and began
spinning it around her hand, winding it back into a ball.

‘On what?’ asked Diana, swinging her legs and scuffing the tiles.

‘That’s you done, Miss,’ Kitty said to Geenie. When she’d finished winding the tape, and had written some numbers down on
a little pad, she turned to Diana. ‘It depends on how busy I am, Miss.’

‘Can you hurry?’ Geenie pressed her palms together and gazed up at Kitty from under her brows. ‘Please, Kitty? Can you?’

Kitty laughed. ‘Well. I suppose it shouldn’t take me so very long…’

Geenie hopped on the spot.

‘Especially if I borrow my sister’s machine.’

Diana stood and, with her hands behind her back, aimed a dazzling smile directly at Kitty. ‘That would be really super of
you.’

Kitty took a step back. ‘Yes, well. I’ll see what I can do.’ She turned to the table and picked up one of the long white cotton
nightdresses Geenie had dumped in her lap that morning. ‘Are you sure it’s all right for me to use these, Miss?’ She held
one up to the light from the window. ‘They’re very nice stuff.’

‘They’re old,’ said Geenie, standing at her side and gazing at the fine cotton.

‘But your mother said we could use them?’

Geenie nodded. ‘She hasn’t worn them in years.’ One was from Geenie’s dressing-up pile, the other she’d pinched from her mother’s
drawer this morning. But she hadn’t told even Diana about that.

Kitty looked from Geenie to Diana and back again. ‘Well, if you’re sure—’

‘When can you do them?’ asked Diana.

Kitty gathered up the fabric, her notebook and her workbox. ‘We’ll see.’

Diana shot a look at Geenie. ‘When?’ asked Geenie, standing in front of Diana and grasping Kitty’s hand. It was smaller than
her mother’s, and much rougher to touch, but she squeezed it as tenderly as she could. ‘When do you think you might?’

Kitty looked down at her fingers, and Geenie gave another squeeze.

‘I’m going to my sister’s tomorrow, so I might be able to make a start then—’

‘Oh, please do!’ said Diana.

‘But I can’t promise anything, Miss. Now, I really must get on.’

Geenie could tell by the little flush rising in Kitty’s cheeks that they would have the costumes soon enough.

. . . .

They began rehearsals right away in Geenie’s bedroom, wearing just their knickers and vests (because no other costume would
have been right), and with their faces painted white. Diana had appointed herself writer/director, and Geenie was in charge
of costumes and set.

‘First of all,’ said Diana, standing on the bed with her hands on her hips, ‘we’ll both do a song.’

Geenie was sitting cross-legged on the paint-stained rug. ‘I can’t sing.’

‘You can do a dance, then.’

But Geenie didn’t think she could do a dance, either. ‘Can I do Cleopatra?’

‘You want to do
Shakespeare
?’

‘No – just Cleopatra.’

‘What will you do?’

Geenie thought. ‘I’ll die on stage. I’ll collapse in a swoon, and I’ll die. I’ll wear my white robe.’

‘But we’ll be in Pierrot costumes. That’s the point.’

Geenie was silent. From here, Diana looked rather frightening: her hair, now released from its complicated plait, had gone
kinky and wild.

‘I’ll do a dance,’ said Diana, kicking up one leg and managing to keep her balance perfectly whilst the earrings wound around
Geenie’s headboard rattled in a mad dance. ‘You don’t have to do anything. Anyway. That’s just the
prelude
.’

‘What’s a prelude?’

‘It’s like an introduction. Something to whet the audience’s appetite.’ Diana strutted from one side of the bed to the other
then launched herself to the floor, landing before Geenie with a quiet thud, her hair shuddering around her bare shoulders.
‘What’s important is the Main Act.’ She licked her lips. ‘Now. It’s a one-act play called
What the
Gardener Saw
. You’ll be the housemaid, Ruby, and I’ll be the great poet, John Cross.’

‘Can’t I be the great poet?’

‘No. My father’s a poet and I know much more about it.’

Geenie lay on the floor and looked at the ceiling. ‘Can’t we do another play?’

Diana slowly walked around her friend before leaning over and looking into her face. ‘You get to kiss me.’

Geenie sat up and the two girls’ noses almost touched. ‘What happens?’

‘I’ll show you.’ Diana giggled and pulled the other girl to her feet. ‘It’s
hopelessly
romantic. We open with me.’ She jumped into position, sitting at the end of the bed. ‘I’m at my desk, composing, like this.’
She crossed her legs and, resting an elbow on one knee, put a fist to her forehead. ‘Then you come in with your duster—’

‘Duster?’

‘It could be a feather one, I suppose, or a tea cloth—’

‘I’ll have a feather one.’

‘So you come in, and you say,
Oh, sorry to disturb you,
Sir
—’

‘How do I say it?’

‘How?’

‘You’re the director.’

‘Well. Sort of – quiet, you know, and hesitant. Look at the floor a lot. Just think of Kitty and copy what she does. Like
this.’ Diana stood, hunched her shoulders, and shuffled towards the door. ‘
Oh
,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper, ‘
I’m so sorry
—’

‘Kitty isn’t like that.’

‘But that’s more or less it, isn’t it? Anyway, you’re not Kitty, you’re Ruby. It’s a general impression of a housemaid sort
that we’re after.’

‘Kitty’s not a housemaid. She’s a cook.’

Diana sighed. ‘Do you want to know what happens next, or not?’

Geenie nodded.

‘Now we come to the good part.’ Diana sat back on the bed. ‘I’m struck by the thunderbolt, you see—’

‘What thunderbolt?’

‘The thunderbolt of love. I’m struck with love, and I just sit and stare at you, like this.’ Placing her hand flat on her
heart, she opened her eyes as wide as they would go, then closed them slowly and let her neck go limp before saying, in a
deep voice, ‘I am inspired as never before – inspired by love.’

‘Oh,’ said Geenie, ‘that’s good.’

Diana smiled. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Do you kiss me then?’

‘Not yet. In the next scene, you’re kneeling on the floor, scrubbing, like this.’ Diana got down on all fours and rubbed furiously
at the rug with her knuckles, pausing to wipe her forehead in a long sweeping gesture.

‘We’ll need some props for that,’ said Geenie.

‘Of course – that’s your department. So you’re scrubbing, working really hard, and I – the great poet John Cross – come up
behind you and start reading my love poem.’

‘How does it go?’

Here Diana looked suddenly shy. She sat back on her heels and tucked her frizzy hair behind one ear. ‘I haven’t finished it
yet.’

‘Never mind. What then?’

‘Then I kiss you, passionately.’

‘Show me,’ said Geenie.

‘All right.’ Diana stood, readjusted her knickers and vest, and took a step towards her. Geenie closed her eyes and waited.

‘Don’t close your eyes yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘We have to build up to the
moment
.’ Diana stretched out a hand and let it rest on Geenie’s shoulder. She moistened her cushiony top lip with her tongue and
opened her mouth very slightly. Geenie began to giggle.

‘You can’t laugh when we perform it for real, you know.’

Geenie covered her mouth with one hand and took a deep breath.

‘In fact,’ Diana said, ‘when I touch you, I think you should swoon.’

‘I can do that.’

‘Go on then.’

Geenie closed her eyes, put her forearm to her brow and let her body buckle. As she went down, Diana caught her, spreading
one hand flat in the centre of Geenie’s back, cupping the other beneath her naked neck, and pulling her close. ‘Pretend you
love me,’ she said, moving in for the kiss.

When it came, the kiss was dry and hard, and both girls stayed completely still as their lips locked. Geenie squeezed her
eyes tighter and wondered if she really would faint: her knees were weak, her neck twisted, her heartbeat loud in her ears;
she could taste the sweat on Diana’s top lip. At first, she held onto her friend with a fierce grip to keep from falling,
but as the kiss went on, Geenie let her lips go soft, and she found herself relaxing into Diana’s arms.