Myra Carrol Page 10

  When they sent for Myra, Uncle John and Aunt Lilian were in Uncle John’s study. Uncle John was looking so low and so worried that Myra felt as if her heart would explode with pity. Aunt Lilian had already changed for dinner. She was wearing velvet the colour of her eyes and was looking so sure of herself and her beauty, that Uncle John seemed small and shrunk beside her, and Myra herself, who had bounded in full of gaiety, lost vitality the second she was inside the room. It was as though Aunt Lilian was breathing in more than her share of oxygen, and left everyone else feeling weak and deflated. Aunt Lilian spoke in a louder voice than was usual to her, and there was a surprising amount of warmth and we-understand-each-other-don’t-we about it, which astonished Myra, for Aunt Lilian was the one person she knew whom she did not consider she understood.

  “I’ve been telling your uncle about our little plan. I’ve been saying that I don’t want you handed over to foreigners but to have you under my eye.”

  Myra turned to her uncle to explain the pith of the matter, which she thought her aunt had left out.

  “Fortesque can come here, and Miriam.”

  He held out a hand and she came to him. He took her other hand and pulled her face to him, so that her back was to her aunt.

  “I don’t think Fortesque and Miriam ought to affect this. I’ve told your aunt that you must be the one to decide. Think of the Swiss school, lots of girls of your own age, and the mountains and vineyards, and the ski-ing; you don’t want to miss all that fun, do you?”

  “I can’t see why Myra is to be talked to as if she were still in socks. Here she will have plenty of fun, but not with a lot of girls of her own age. At seventeen, if I remember rightly, one expected rather more.”

  Uncle John looked pleadingly at Aunt Lilian.

  “She is not seventeen yet.” He was back with his eyes on Myra, all that asking look that she had noticed before was in them, only now it was overlaid by an expression of anxiety. “If the decision were mine I would not be asking you to choose. I should be packing you off to Switzerland as arranged, but your aunt, too, has a say and so we have decided to let you choose.”

  Aunt Lilian gave an unkind laugh.

  “It is surprising what discoveries can be made at Somerset House.”

  Myra had no idea what this meant, and she was puzzled at this talk. She leant against her uncle.

  “But you’re my guardian.”

  “I see you suffer under the same delusion as I did, darling. Your uncle and I are your joint guardians until you are twenty-one.”

  Myra thought this a harmless remark, but for some reason it made Uncle John flinch. Myra, leaning against him, could feel this. She held his hands tighter. Poor Uncle John, she was more sure than ever that he was afraid of Aunt Lilian. He needed looking after, he ought to stand up to her, that was what was wrong. She looked over her shoulder at her aunt.

  “It was not a delusion I need have had. Uncle John tried to read the will to me, but I wasn’t listening properly.”

  Uncle John pulled her back to face him. His voice was almost imploring.

  “Well, Myra, which is it to be?”

  She thought of him slipping into the house, only being himself when Aunt Lilian was out. She thought of Aunt Lilian’s temper which seemed to have frightened all the household into submission, she even hated it herself. Aunt Lilian needed somebody to stand up to her. Uncle John needed loving and looking after, and somebody to stand up for him. She gave a radiant smile and put her cheek against his.

  “I’d like to stop with you.”

  Uncle John was fumbling in the dark. Why did his wife want Myra in the house? He was unable to shake off entirely the shattering, blinding love he had once felt for his Lilian, so that though he had watched the image he had of her disintegrate, he still had to peer at the real Lilian for something, a word, a smile, to bring back his Lilian even for a moment. In his innermost soul he knew he had given his heart to something that had never been, but he only understood enduring love. It was cold work worshipping an image. The boy in him that Myra had spotted refused to disappear, and had given him as legacy a boy’s hopefulness. Away from the house, he could not believe that a love which had started so radiantly could have become something that hurt, it was not possible. When he got back to her this time things would be different. It was small wonder his shoulders sagged with weariness. This strange wish to help Myra frightened and yet stirred him. He was frightened in his subsconsciousness. He was not going to admit in his shaped thought that the only possible reason why Lilian could want the child was for her own selfish ends, that Miriam and Fortesque had been used as bribes, that there was sharpness prompted by something stronger than affection for a niece in Lilian’s visit to Somerset House to discover that she was joint guardian with himself. He had never told her about the terms of the will because, he had assured himself, she would not be interested. He knew that Myra’s parents had only put her name in as a polite gesture, they were fond of polite gestures and thought that her id, as guardian, would mean no more. These subconscious thoughts made one of those pads of idless dread which sit on the solar plexus like a poultice; as counter irritant was the stirring of new hope. Children had worked miracles for other people; was Myra to be the miracle worker for them? Was Lilian, too reserved to speak the truth, to cry aloud, “I’ve been starved for a child. If you have thought me changed, here is the reason. Give me a daughter and you’ll see such a difference.”

  The idless dread on the solar plexus was stronger than hope; it caused Uncle John for the first time in his life to make terms with Lilian. Myra might stay. He would write to the school in Switzerland not to expect her, but at any time she could change her mind. He was going to make it perfectly clear to her that her happiness was what they both cared about, and she had only to say she wanted a change and she could go to Switzerland or to the country with Connie, or any other arrangement she fancied. She was not yet grown up and was to be treated as a child, classes were to be arranged, and the moment Connie was fit she was to be asked to come and live in the house. There was nothing in the words said to suggest that Uncle John after years of slavery would behave as a free man over Myra, that if necessary and as a last resort he would have the question of guardianship decided in the Courts, but it was at the back of his mind, and so, at the back of his words. Aunt Lilian listened to what he said with a detached smile, but there was a calculating look in her eye, as if she were planning a piece of embroidery, which colour she would use where, and noting that the result would be admirable.

  Myra went alone in the car to Paddington to meet Miriam and Fortesque. She was already on close terms of friendship with Thompson, the chauffeur. They started from the house sedately with Thompson arranging the rug over her knees, and she sitting in the back. Out of the square Thompson stopped the car, and Myra threw the rug on the floor, climbed out and joined him in front. Thompson was married and had two boys, one of whom was sitting for a scholarship. The absorbing story of Alf’s cleverness from the cradle to this great moment held their attention all the way to Paddington. Myra thought happiness could go no further than she felt as she saw Fortesque straining towards her on his leash, uttering shrill barks. She picked him up regardless of the people who milled and swirled around them.

  “Angel dog. Miriam, I think he’s thinner. He’s been missing me. Never mind, precious boy, you’re going to be with me now always.”

  Miriam’s and Myra’s friendship transplanted with the utmost ease. It was exquisite happiness to Myra to shut her bedroom door, and with Miriam to giggle and examine all the grandeur.

  “Your own bath too. Now, Miss Myra dear, you’ll have to be firm with Fortesque about all these fancy covers. He’ll crease them something terrible if he’s up to his old tricks sitting on anything he fancies.” Miriam stroked the organdie and satin bedspread anxiously. “Might even tear it.”

  Myra was rolling Fortesque, head and all,
in his blanket.

  “I’m not going to beat him, if that’s what you mean. He’s not going to like London awfully and if I beat him as well it will break his heart. Won’t it, my angel dog?”

  Miriam looked out of the window. It faced away from the square to a shabby back street, sooty roofs, and two gaunt plane trees.

  “Do you like London, Miss Myra?”

  Myra joined her.

  “It’s better now you and Fortesque have come.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have gone to Switzerland? It’s lovely there, those edelweiss and that.”

  Myra leant against the window frame.

  “If I can’t be in Devonshire I don’t mind where I am, but I’d like to be somewhere where I can have you and Fortesque, and presently Foggy’s coming.” She played with the organdie curtains. “I think Uncle John likes my being here. It makes company for him.”

  “But he’s got your Aunt Lilian. What’s she like?”

  Myra let the curtain go, and turned back into the room. She wandered round fidgeting.

  “She’s lovely to look at. She’s taken a lot of trouble about my clothes, fuss, fuss, fuss, fittings every day.” Myra felt Miriam’s eyes on her, and she turned to face her. “I can’t explain her exactly. She’s beautiful and I’m proud of her but she’s not like I thought an aunt would be. You know, lots of people had aunts at home. I met heaps of them but none of them were a bit like Aunt Lilian. Still, she can do aunt-like things. It was her idea to let you come and bring Fortesque.”

  Miriam jerked her head at the door.

  “What’s this Miss Skinner like?”

  “Nice. But you mustn’t listen to her about Aunt Lilian. I think she’s afraid of her, but then she’s her maid; it doesn’t mean you need be afraid because she is.”

  Miriam smiled.

  “I don’t take nobody’s opinion about anybody. I speak as I find.”

  Aunt Lilian was in a good temper; her singing happiness blew through the house like a warm wind in a cold January. The household changed with her. Skinner gave her imitations to Myra and Miriam with the door of her sewing-room open and no ear on steps on the stairs. Carson treated Myra as a friend under Aunt Lilian’s nose, Uncle John took Myra and Fortesque for a walk across the park on Sunday afternoon without even thinking of an excuse. Myra at first accepted the change without thought except to be pleased. It was, she considered, most lucky that Aunt Lilian had stopped being difficult just when she had. Fortesque was not adapting himself easily to London. He could not grasp that pleasure at the putting on of outdoor things preparatory to a walk must not be shown by wild barking. He could not believe he was not enormously welcome wherever he chose to show his face, and that he could not sit on anything he fancied. Myra could not beat him, nor even make an effort to change what she thought his endearing ways; instead she tried to guide him so that he would behave as a London dog should. She sat him on her lap so that he should not be tempted to burrow in expensive cushions, she put his rug over his head before she dressed in her outdoor things, she carried him downstairs holding his jaw shut with one hand, but for all that he made a lot of slips which, had Aunt Lilian been easily cross in the way she used to be, would almost certainly have led to trouble and caused a risk, always at the back of Myra’s mind, of his invitation being withdrawn and him sent away. She was glad, too, for Miriam’s sake of Aunt Lilian’s good mood. Miriam had only seen Aunt Lilian in a good mood, and, therefore, thought she was a lovely lady. Working with Skinner she heard “just you wait,” but she was not affected by it, still saying that for her part she spoke as she found. Myra was glad Miriam admired Aunt Lilian, she would be writing to cook and cook would hand on the news, not only to Bertha and Foggy, but to the whole village, and it would be hateful if people thought that Uncle John was married to somebody who was not nice. It was Skinner who accounted for the sudden radiance in the house.

  “She’s been asked to take part in the pageant of famous women.”

  “No wonder,” said Miriam, “she’s beautiful for a lady her age and no mistake.”

  Skinner took pride in her work.

  “And should be, the time we spend on her. Not that there isn’t good stuff to work on. I grant that, but you ought to see her before I’ve started on her. Talk about ruins!”

  Myra was embarrassed and changed the subject.

  “Who’s she going to be?”

  Skinner shrugged her shoulders.

  “No one I’ve ever heard of—a Margaret Countess of Salisbury.”

  Myra was brushing Fortesque. She rolled him on to his back.

  “I have. She lived in the time of Cardinal Wolsey and she went to the Tower, about fifteen thirty something. What’s she wearing?”

  “They’re all dressed after pictures. She has a hat with a close bit to the face like the eaves on a house, and a great silk dress and a shawl and a bit of honeysuckle in one hand. Maurice Minter’s making it.”

  “She’ll look lovely I should think,” said Miriam. “I would like to see her, wouldn’t you?”

  “You will, I expect. When I first came here she used to do a lot of these charity shows, and we all went either to the dress rehearsal or the show itself, then the next day she’d speak to everyone, even the kitchen maid, to ask what they thought of it. Funny, with her face, to have to keep hearing about it.”

  Myra gave Fortesque’s underneath a final polish.

  “Of course Margaret Countess of Salisbury was very brave but I shouldn’t have thought she was very famous, not like Florence Nightingale or somebody like that.”

  “Everything was fixed before your aunt came into it, and you’ve got to find somebody old enough; after all, she is not a girl.” Skinner, who was ironing, put her iron to her cheek. “Anyway, she’s pleased, thank goodness.”

  Aunt Lilian was in to tea; she was at her most charming. She told Myra to pull a stool up to the fire, and let that funny creature, which was how she always spoke of Fortesque, sit where he liked. Myra was only too pleased to feel easy with her. She enquired about the pageant. Aunt Lilian dismissed her part in it as unimportant, though she admitted the dress was striking; then, passing Myra the tea-cake, she said:

  “I rather think there is a part for you.”

  Myra beamed, and threw discretion away and openly gave Fortesque a sandwich.

  “What sort of part?”

  Aunt Lilian leant back; she used her hand to shield her face from the fire. She spoke in her soft disinterested way.

  “The famous women come on one at a time to music, each of us poses in turn on a small platform on the stage; it has curtains and these are pulled to and fro by children dressed as angels.”

  “Lady Jane Grey! Do say I’m going to be Lady Jane Grey! I’m almost exactly the right age.”

  For a moment Aunt Lilian stiffened, then she relaxed in a deliberate way.

  “No, not Lady Jane Grey. Do you think it’s a good idea to feed that dog at meals?”

  “No, it’s a bad idea, bad for his figure, but you always have such good teas, and there’s such a lot of everything it seems mean he shouldn’t have a little. You see, he always did at home.”

  Aunt Lilian gave something resembling a smile.

  “It’s all right, child. No, what they want you for is Peace.”

  “Peace! What does Peace wear?”

  “It isn’t decided. You are to go to the theatre and Pauline Silk, who is designing the clothes, and Maurice Minter will try out some effects.”

  Myra took some more tea-cakes.

  “I’m glad I’m going to see that funny man again. I like people who make me laugh.”

  “He’s a very famous dressmaker.”

  “Well, I call that funny for a man.”

  Aunt Lilian still smiled but her voice had its banjo twang at the back of it.

  “You are nearly seventeen an
d you must try not to be gauche. It soon stops being amusing.” She paused, then she leant forward and became confidential. “The designing is going to be rather fun. You’re to wear a sort of bathing dress; I’ve ordered it for you, it’s just so that Maurice Minter and Miss Silk can get their line without your underwear disturbing it.” Myra, accepting all Londoners as odd, went on eating stolidly; a bathing dress seemed to her queer wear for indoors but she lacked all self-consciousness; if that funny Mr. Minter wanted her to wear a bathing dress, that was that. Her Aunt looked at her, wishing she would answer so that she could see how what she was saying was being received. She became more confidential. “I don’t think we’ll bother your uncle about the bathing dress, he’s such a fussy old thing.”

  Myra disapproved of Uncle John being described as fussy. She spoke with truculence.

  “I don’t think he’s fussy, and he’s quite used to seeing me in a bathing dress; he’s often bathed in the river with me.” Because talking of bathing recalled Devonshire she picked up Fortesque and hugged him. “Hasn’t he, angel, you’ve been there, so you know.”

  Aunt Lilian hesitated while she weighed two lines of action. When she spoke it was with the firmness of somebody who sees what to do and how to do it.

  “Put that funny creature outside. I see you cannot attend while he’s in the room.”

  Myra gripped Fortesque more closely; this was what she dreaded. Aunt Lilian had never sent him out of the room before. It was a danger sign, a step towards his returning to the country.

  “I’m sorry. I am listening, honestly I am. You said I wasn’t to tell Uncle John I was wearing a bathing dress.”

  “I want you to say as little about the pageant as possible. He’s tired just now and easily worried. He will think that you ought to have started your classes and that this will distract you, but I know it won’t. You are too childish for your age, a man doesn’t see that. I want to bring you out.”

  Myra gave Fortesque a kiss to congratulate him on his reprieve.