‘Sorry, Mummy, have you been following us for long? I’m afraid I was in a brown study and Beppo never thinks of anything but the next water rat. What’s up?’
Constance reached her and flapped the newspaper vaguely towards her. ‘Well, it’s teatime for a start and since JJ hasn’t arrived home yet – he’s gone sailing with a friend, but he’s promised to be back for dinner tonight – I thought it might be fun if you and I had tea together and indulged in some real girl-talk. Jamie’s cycled down to the coast with some girl or other and goodness knows what time they’ll be back so it really will be just you and me. I really do need to talk to you.’
Inside herself, Anna groaned and flinched, but outwardly she just nodded placidly and fell into step beside her mother. The trouble with being an adult was that everyone assumed you were now old enough to take on their troubles without being shocked or upset, but the truth, Anna thought miserably, was far otherwise. She
had been so delighted with her father’s apparent change of heart when he came home from the war. If only it had lasted, but within six months he had been up to his old tricks again and poor Constance, who had spent the war years looking incredibly young and pretty for her age, seemed suddenly to have given up the unequal battle. She used too much make-up, wore the wrong sort of clothes and behaved foolishly, batting her eyelashes at men twenty years younger than she was and resolutely pretending not to notice JJ’s behaviour with an increasingly juvenile series of young women.
‘And why the newspaper?’ Anna asked, since Constance, having said what was on her mind, seemed indifferent, now, to silence. ‘When I saw you waving it I thought they’d ended rationing or found gold down a coalmine or something!’
‘Oh, this.’ Constance waved the newspaper again. ‘I thought you’d like to know that the suspense is over at last. Your Princess Elizabeth is engaged to Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten, RN. What about that, eh? Are you pleased for her?’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful, I’m awfully pleased,’ Anna said as warmly as though the Princess herself were hiding behind the nearest stand of rushes, listening for her opinion. ‘Isn’t she lucky? Prince Philip’s a dish, so tall and golden and aristocratic. I wonder when they’ll get married? I’d wait until next June, I think, it’s a lovely month for a wedding, but then she’ll be twenty-two – so will I for that matter – and she might rather marry at twenty-one, as so many people do.’
‘They’ll probably marry quite soon; royal engagements are usually short,’ Constance said. ‘The Duke and Duchess of York had a three-month engagement, that was all. It’s obvious why, of course.’
‘Why?’ Anna asked bluntly, and watched her mother’s colour rise under the fair skin with some amusement. How
odd that her mother could still blush over something like the reason for a brief royal engagement.
‘Why? Well, because it wouldn’t do for the future king and queen to be seen hugging or anything like that in public … and then if they overstepped the mark …’ she saw Anna’s mouth twitch and shook her daughter’s arm. ‘You’re a bad girl to tease me when you know the answer perfectly well.’
‘Sorry, Mummy, it was irresistible,’ Anna said. ‘Beppo, leave that poor duck alone. Come along now or I’ll put you on your lead, I will really.’
Beppo, who could be deaf when he considered it necessary, cast her a malevolent look but trotted back to her side. He hated being put on his lead, especially so near the river. There was so much to chase, so many exciting smells …
‘Good boy,’ Anna said, not fooled by his sudden meekness. ‘Look, Mummy, you aren’t going to nag me about George, are you? Because if so, I’ll have to tell you a thing or two which you won’t like.’
‘I wasn’t going to nag you at all,’ Constance said indignantly. ‘I was going to tell you that I’d had a word with your Auntie Ella and she’s coming to stay a bit earlier than she’d planned. But let’s wait until we get home, shall we?’
‘All right, if you’d rather. Only I should have thought it was quieter out here, with fewer people about. If you want to say something confidential, that is.’
Anna spoke the words, but she didn’t believe her mother had confidentialities in mind. She thought that Constance was going to tell her how foolish she had been to turn down George’s proposal, how if she didn’t watch out she’d find herself left on the shelf like Constance’s friend Phoebe. Then Constance would remind her that George was only the latest in a long line of young men who had been encouraged right up to the last minute and
then slapped down and pushed away, to turn – naturally – to other girls for consolation.
Constance looked sideways at her daughter, then turned resolutely to the front once more. Anna saw that her mother was pale despite the hot sunshine and the hat, flopping up and down as she walked, cast an ugly freckled pattern of light and shade over her well-powdered nose and cheeks. Abruptly, Anna remembered when her mother’s skin had been smooth and golden, with a burnish of health on it, when her step had been light, her limbs cool and smooth. It wasn’t age, if she herself was twenty-one her mother was not long past forty, not nearly as old as she had begun to look.
‘I’m leaving, darling. I’m going away.’
Anna shot her mother a puzzled glance.
‘Do you mean you’re going to stay with Auntie Ella? That will be nice, Mummy, though London in this heat isn’t everyone’s idea of fun. But I thought she was coming down here later in the month? Wasn’t that what you just said? Or have her plans changed?’
Constance sighed and stopped walking. She turned to face Anna.
‘I’m leaving JJ, darling. I’ve had enough.’
Anna couldn’t take it in. What on earth could Constance mean? She was not a girl, she was a mature woman who had been married to JJ for twenty-two years. She couldn’t mean she was leaving him, could she?
‘You’re leaving Daddy? But Mummy, for how long? Does he know? Why, for God’s sake? He’ll be awfully upset.’
Constance smiled; it was a tired smile but it occurred to Anna that it was the first genuine smile she had seen on her mother’s lips for a long while.
‘No, I haven’t told JJ. I don’t think he deserves warning, do you? The friend he’s sailing with, darling, is little Josie
Gaunt, that youngster Jamie’s taken about a bit. Not an evacuee, not someone living under my roof and in my care, but our son’s little bit of fluff. When I found out I suddenly decided I couldn’t take any more, so I’m going. I rang Ella – she’s told me time and again to be firmer with him – and said I’d had enough and Ella agreed to come down next weekend, to see if she could make him see reason. Only I’ll be gone by then, of course.’
‘But you’ll come back won’t you? You won’t stay away? Daddy is awful, I know he is, but he does love you in his way. It’s just that he’s got a thing about young girls.’
Constance laughed harshly. ‘He’s got a
thing
, as you call it, about all women except the one he married twenty-two years ago. As for loving me, does he?
Does
he? I don’t think your father knows the meaning of the word love, not between a man and a woman, anyway, and he knows nothing whatsoever about fidelity. For twenty-two years I’ve done everything in my power to please him, to make him happy, hoping he would turn to me in the end. Not only has he not turned to me, but he hasn’t turned to anyone else either. Not for long. Never for long. Think of the women he’s played around with over the last twenty-odd years! Now it’s little girls of fifteen and sixteen! What’s he trying to prove, for God’s sake?’
The last words were said almost in a whisper, but Anna recognised them for the cry of agony they were.
‘I don’t know, I’ve never understood it,’ she admitted, her own voice low. ‘But what’ll you do, Mummy? Where will you go? When I get a job I’ll have to find somewhere to live … you can come to me, then. But right now I’m still slogging away at my degree, I can’t help you much.’
‘I’ve taken a job in town with an advertising agency,’ Constance said, almost briskly. ‘They needed someone who could speak French and I’ll be writing copy and selling advertising in this country and in France. I can
mug up anything I don’t know, my new boss told me. I’m starting this coming Monday, but you mustn’t tell JJ. He would come storming up to … to where I’m working or keep telephoning to persuade me to come home, and I can’t stand that. I must see if I can exist on my own.’
As they talked they had climbed the long, dusty road which led back to the village and wended their way along the leafy lanes, arriving at last at Goldenstone. Before them the pond shone blue as the sky and the chestnut trees drooped over it, like beautiful women peering at their reflections. Anna felt as though someone had chopped the ground out from under her feet; no Mummy at Goldenstone, everyone knowing very soon what sort of a man Daddy was, Auntie Ella coming down to – to do what? The old order changeth, yielding place to new, and I don’t like new things, Anna told herself almost tearfully. For ages I’ve wished Mummy would do something about Daddy, but not this, not this!
‘Well, darling? Will you write to me when I send you an address? Come and visit me? I don’t want to lose touch with you and Jamie, but if that’s the price I must pay for my self-respect then I’ll have to grin and bear it.’
‘You won’t lose me,’ Anna said instantly. ‘Nor Jamie, I’m sure. What does he say?’
‘I’ve not told him yet. He may decide to come with me, darling, because he’s still very dependent. But he won’t finish school for another year and then he’ll go straight into the forces to do his National Service, so I’d rather he stayed with Daddy, really. Jamie needs a stable home background, no one knows it better than I, but if he can’t get on here, then I’ll have him in … where I am. Daddy will just have to pay me an allowance for him.’
‘You know where you’re going, don’t you, so why can’t you tell me?’ Anna said in what she hoped was a
reasonable tone but suspected was more like a miserable whine. ‘I won’t tell, really I won’t.’
‘All right. I’m going to live in a tiny flat over a tobacconist’s shop in Rampant Horse Street, and I’m working for Wilshire and Tillington, in London Street. You can write to me there or at Rampant Horse Street; I’ll give you the full address before I leave this evening.’
‘This evening! But you can’t go as soon as that, you’ll need to pack, to warn people … besides, Daddy might be back any minute.’
Constance shook her head. ‘No, he’ll be late. He always is when he’s got a new girl.’
‘What about packing? All your lovely things, your clothes …’
‘I packed most of my stuff a week ago and sent it off, to await arrival. The rest is in my navy suitcase in my room, just waiting for me to pick it up. In fact, having told you now, I won’t even have to stay for tea. I’ll ring for a taxi as soon as we reach the house.’
Unable to risk speech, Anna just nodded. But when they entered Goldenstone she followed her mother up the stairs to her white-and-gold bedroom and sat on the bed as Constance tidied herself, put on her beautiful cream linen coat and rang for a taxi.
‘Mummy, how do you feel?’ Anna asked curiously as her mother cast one last, valedictory glance around the room. ‘Sad? Frightened?’
‘Relieved. At peace,’ Constance said unexpectedly. ‘I never thought I would, but I do.’
‘“Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, ease after war, death after life, does greatly please,”’ Anna quoted softly. ‘Oh Mummy, I never realised how it must be for you!’
‘I think you did. I think that’s why you haven’t married, though goodness knows you’ve had enough opportunities. You’ve seen the darker side of marriage
and that isn’t something that encourages any intelligent woman to marry and risk a similar experience.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid that’s true,’ Anna said, not bothering to deny it. ‘Even the nicest of young men seems too great a risk. Even Dan – no, especially Dan.’
‘Dan? Oh yes, I remember; charming young man. Too charming by half.’ Constance cast a glance towards the window. ‘Ah, here’s my taxi.’ She swooped across the room and kissed Anna’s cheek in a flurry of perfume, face powder and fresh lipstick. ‘Be good, darling, tell Jamie I’ll be in touch. Daddy won’t mind too much if the house runs smoothly. You will write? And visit me when I’m settled?’
‘I will,’ Anna promised, hugging her mother tightly. ‘I’ve memorised your address and I won’t tell anyone, except Jamie of course. But suppose Daddy’s very, very upset and promises he’ll never look at another woman …’
Constance, at the head of the stairs, turned and smiled lovingly at her daughter. Anna suddenly realised that her mother’s face was glowing with happiness and looked shiningly innocent, like a child’s.
‘Darling, he says that every time – every time, without fail! Take good care of yourself and remember, I love you very much and I’m proud of you as well. I always knew you’d turn out to be someone special, and you have. Be a good girl, and take care of yourself.’
Carrying the navy-blue suitcase, leaning to one side with the weight of it, she went down the stairs and across the hall. Anna watched the slight, straightbacked figure climb into the taxi, say something to the driver and turn to wave, eyes suddenly large with unshed tears, mouth wobbling into strange shapes as the realisation hit her that this was it, the end of twenty-three years of uneasy marriage to JJ Radwell, the end of living at Goldenstone, mistress of so much that was beautiful and fine.
‘Good luck, Mummy,’ Anna shouted as the taxi driver
revved his engine and roared round the corner and into the main drive. ‘Be happy!’
She was still standing on the step waving, though the car had long since disappeared, when someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned and there stood Meg, a reproving look on her face and a tea-trolley in front of her.
‘I don’t know where your Mum’s gone, Miss Anna, but she said tea was to be served on the terrace and there’s me sittin’ in the kitchen awaitin’ for somebody to gi’ me a call and all the time she’s plannin’ on a trip into the city or some such thing. What am I to do with all this?’
Anna looked at the trolley. On the top shelf were cups, saucers, plates and all the paraphernalia of tea-making. On the second shelf was a plate of cucumber sandwiches and another which looked like tomato. On the bottom shelf was a small slab of Meg’s sticky gingerbread. It would all be mock, of course – margarine instead of butter, carrot instead of currants, dried milk instead of fresh – but it would be good, trust Meg for that. And there was far too much for Anna to tackle alone, though she could make some inroads.