Читать книгу The Silent Pool - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 7

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Janet lifted the receiver. Star Somers’ charming voice came to her.

“Darling, is that you?”

“It used to be.”

“How do you mean, it used to be?”

“Everything has been rather intensive. We worked up to the last minute—I’ve been a machine. But it’s over. He went off on Tuesday.”

“How grim! You want a holiday.”

“I do.”

Inwardly Janet reflected that since Hugo had rushed off at the last moment without signing the cheque for her salary, a holiday was not going to be so easy to achieve. She had laid it out before him, she had handed him his fountain pen, and the telephone-bell had rung. It was while she was answering it that Hugo had blown her a kiss and rushed for his train, leaving the cheque right in the middle of his writing-pad without a signature. She had written to him of course, but whether he would ever get the letter was quite another thing. If he made a plan it would not be with any set intention of carrying it out, but merely to have something from which he could break away. The stimulus of the unexpected! It wasn’t always very convenient for other people. It wasn’t being at all convenient for Janet Johnstone. She heard Star say,

“Darling, you can have a marvellous holiday this minute! You haven’t fixed anything up, have you? You told me you hadn’t just before Hugo went.”

“No, I haven’t had time.”

“Then that’s perfect! You can come down here tomorrow! It’s a lovely place, and no one will bother you!”

When you have played together as children and shared most things in your teens, there is not much you do not know about each other. What Star knew would send her off to take up her part in Jimmy Du Parc’s new musical show with a mind completely at rest. What Janet knew made it perfectly clear to her that Star had a game of her own. She said in the voice which had just the least touch of a Scottish lilt.

“You had much better tell me straight out what you want.”

“Angel, I knew you would come to my rescue—you always do! You see, it’s Stella. That fool Edna has let Nanny go away on some ridiculous holiday trip, and I’m due to start for New York tomorrow—no, it’s the day after! But there’s no time—you do see that, don’t you? And I can’t go unless I can feel quite sure about Stella. And I would with you. Edna isn’t any good with children. She hasn’t ever had any. I’ve just been telling her so, and I don’t think she liked it!”

“And how many children am I supposed to have had?”

“Darling, you’re an angel with them—you always were! It’s a gift! You will do it, won’t you? You’ll adore it really! It’s a wonderful old house, and the gardens are a dream. A bit gone off now, of course, from what they used to be, because there are only two gardeners now instead of four, and I don’t suppose there ought to be as many as that. It would be a take-in for everyone if it turned out that Adriana had run through all her capital, and I don’t really see how she can be doing everything out of income—not nowadays. Surtax, you know, darling—it’s frightening! You can’t save a penny! Fortunately for us, Adriana could, and did. At least that’s what we hope! Only we don’t know who she will leave it to—and honestly, what’s the good of splitting it? A little here and a little there, it would just be frittering! You do see that, don’t you?”

The silvery voice ceasing for a moment, Janet was able to say,

“I don’t see anything at all. Nobody could. And I haven’t said I’ll do it yet.”

“Darling, you did! And you simply must, or I’m sunk! Suppose I don’t go, and that frightful girl Jean Pomeroy gets the part! Jimmy will give it to her—I know he will. And suppose she makes some ghastly kind of hit in it. She might—just to spite me!”

Janet said,

“Star, stop talking! You’re making my head go round. And you haven’t told me a single thing. Where are you speaking from?”

“Darling, Ford House of course! I came down to say goodbye to Stella and make sure everything was all right, and what do I find? Edna has let Nanny go prancing off to the continent on a motor tour!”

“Yes, you told me that. Ford House—that’s where Adriana Ford lives, isn’t it?”

“Darling, you know it is! Everyone does! You’re just being difficult! And she had an accident six months ago, so Edna runs the house more or less!”

“Who is Edna?”

“She’s my cousin Geoffrey’s wife. Rather distant—the sort where you have the same great-grandfather. No one has been able to make out why he married her. She hasn’t even got money! And they’ve no children. People do do the oddest things, don’t they?”

Janet let that go.

“Is he there too?”

Star’s voice ran up to new heights.

“But of course! I told you they hadn’t got a bean. They live here. You’ll probably think him charming—he can be if he likes.”

“Does he do anything?”

“He goes out with a gun. But Mrs Simmons has got to the point when she won’t cook any more rabbits—anyway the staff won’t eat them!”

“I was coming to the staff. Who is there?”

“Oh, plenty really. You won’t have to do a thing. The Simmons are butler and cook, and there’s Meeson who looks after Adriana—she used to be her dresser. Devoted, but she won’t lift a finger for anyone else. And a woman from the village, and a girl called Joan Cuttle—what a name! And of course Meriel does the flowers.”

“And who is Meriel?”

“Well, darling, there you have me! Nobody quite knows. One of those intense creatures with a lot of hair. And no one knows whether Adriana had her surreptitiously, or whether she just picked her up somewhere and adopted her, which is exactly the sort of thing she might have done. When I really want to annoy Geoffrey I tell him I’m quite sure she is a daughter and that Adriana will leave her everything!”

“How old is she?”

“Oh, I don’t know—twenty-three—twenty-four—so I don’t suppose she could be really, because Adriana must be eighty, though no one knows about that either. She has always been a clam about her age. But she’s my grandfather’s sister, and I’ve got a sort of idea she was older than he was, only it’s all rather hush-hush—because of the Scandals, you know, before she blossomed out into being world-famous. I mean, once the public takes you seriously as Ophelia, and Desdemona, and Juliet, they stop thinking about your private life. I believe she was too heart-wringing as Desdemona. And then, of course, later on there were things like Mrs Alving and the other Ibsen females—and Lady Macbeth—quite overpowering! So no one bothered any more about whether she had lived with an archduke or had an affair with a bullfighter. She was just Adriana Ford, with her name in letters about three feet high and people tearing the box-office down to get seats.”

It sounded a bit overpowering. Janet said so.

A new flow began.

“Darling, you practically won’t see her. She broke her leg six or seven months ago, and it left her with a limp, so she wouldn’t let anyone see her walk. It was one of her special things, you know, the way she moved and walked, so she’s been saying she couldn’t. Of course the doctors have always said she could if she wanted to, and the other day she went up to town and saw a specialist, and he said she had simply got to lead a normal life and get about as much as she could. Edna was telling me about it before she came out with this horrid thing about Nanny. She said Adriana was going to start coming down to meals and everything, so you’ll be seeing her a little more than I said. But honestly, that will be all to the good, because Edna is the world’s worst bore. As a matter of fact, Adriana always has spent most of her time in her own set of rooms, with Meeson to wait on her and everything just as she likes it. If she takes a fancy to you she’ll send for you, and you must be sure to go. It’s a sort of royal command and frightfully impressive. Darling, I must fly! Come round to the flat at nine o’clock, and we’ll fix everything up!”