Читать книгу East Is Always East - Pamela Wynne - Страница 13

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Going to India is very exciting. Especially in one of the new P. and O. liners. Ten days later the girls were in ecstasies over their accommodation. One very large roomy cabin for both of them and a smaller single berth cabin for their mother a little further down the corridor.

“Do you like it, darling?” April had left Flavia unpacking, and had dashed along to see if her mother was all right.

“Very much indeed,” said Mrs. Metcalfe, and she spoke the truth. She had expected to feel lost and in despair at leaving John. But his love was something so profound that she felt it still encircling her. He had transformed her life. Nothing else really mattered. Mrs. Metcalfe was astounded to find that this was so. She had proved it. The night before they had started Flavia had been difficult and selfish over something. Formerly that had distressed Mrs. Metcalfe, and had made her begin to think that life with the two girls together might be difficult and not too satisfactory. And now it fell from her like a discarded garment. In thought she fled to her lover. Flavia didn’t exist. Flavia, scowling at her mother, wondered what had happened to her. Because she still looked serene although Flavia still scowled.

So now she was able to bustle excitedly round her cabin and welcome April with a beaming smile. John had not seen her off. They had said their farewell the night before: a perfect one. The girls had gone to bed, and so was Mrs. Metcalfe supposed to have gone to bed. But she hadn’t. John had ordered a car for eleven o’clock that night and they had gone out to supper at the Carlton and then for a long, long drive. Mrs. Rixon, who had guessed what had happened to her distinguished client and the pretty little mother of the two girls, gave John a latchkey with a beaming smile. They got back to the hotel at two o’clock in the morning and let themselves in with the key and kissed again outside John’s bedroom door. And as he kissed her he sighed. “What rubbish it all is!” he whispered. “And yet, I suppose we’re right. After all, it’s not for long, is it?”

“No,” said Mrs. Metcalfe, hiding her burning face on her lover’s heart and wishing, oh so desperately, that he—— And then, when she had got up to her own room she knew that she didn’t wish it really. Because God had ordained marriage because He knew that there were lots of things that women loved that they couldn’t have without it. Children, for instance; no one had any right to bring into the world anything that might be wretched because it hadn’t been born properly. Not that she would be likely to have any more children—at least, she devoutly hoped she wouldn’t, for his sake, because he probably wouldn’t want any. But there were other things. Simple little homely things that you couldn’t have if you were bothering about whether people saw you or not. No, it was better as it was, thought Mrs. Metcalfe, feeling more and more certain of it as she thought how soon six months would pass and how if she had anything at all on her conscience it might make her feel uncomfortable with April. And now she beamed at April. “Have you seen anyone that you think looks nice yet?” she asked.

“Yes, a man,” said April promptly. “I passed him in the corridor as I came to see you just now. Tall and fair, with a very short moustache cropped right away from his mouth.”

“Really! I wonder who it is,” said Mrs. Metcalfe, feeling inwardly very much astonished. April, who to her knowledge had never taken the remotest notice of a man before! Flavia had remarked on it on their return from their expedition into the country for the dance. “April never made the faintest attempt to make herself attractive to anyone,” she declared.

“I did,” said April, flushing.

“Not to any man,” retorted Flavia, who had had quite a promising flirtation with the younger brother of her friend. He was down from Cambridge and Flavia had liked him.

“No, well—I don’t care about men,” said April. And Mrs. Metcalfe had laughed and patted her child’s face. But here was April eagerly speaking about a man, and that when she had only been on the ship for about an hour and a half. Mrs. Metcalfe felt suddenly very eager indeed to see this man. “I’m tired of unpacking,” she said suddenly. “Let us go for a little tour of exploration, shall we, darling?”

“Yes, let’s,” said April excitedly. They set forth together. At first it was difficult: so many flights of stairs and long white-painted corridors with green serge curtains blowing in the open doors of the cabins. But after a while they got the geography rather clearer. They came out into a wide open space with a sort of very aristocratic kiosk standing in the middle of it. People were standing round the kiosk. Letters and telegrams. Mrs. Metcalfe’s heart suddenly gave a little leap. It was worth asking, anyhow.

“Mrs. Metcalfe?” said the man in uniform behind the counter in an enquiring voice.

“Yes.”

“Telegram,” said the man briefly and handed it to her.

“Oh, how exciting!” said April joyously. “Who’s it from? Open it, Mother.”

Mrs. Metcalfe opened it. A very short telegram: “A happy voyage and a happier return. John.”

“Who’s it from?” repeated April, glancing up into her mother’s face and then feeling that she knew already. Of course, Madeline could never hide things. Should she pretend that she didn’t understand, until her mother told her herself? Everything round April suddenly seemed to blur a little. She no longer came first with this beloved mother of hers. Then blindly she felt that she hated the tall man, whom up to that moment she had rather liked.

“It’s from Mr. Maxwell,” said Madeline, and she avoided April’s eyes.

“Oh.” April took a few steps towards the wide staircase. “Let’s go up here,” she said, “it leads up on to the main deck. Flavia and I went as soon as we got on board.”

“Yes, let’s.” Mrs. Metcalfe crushed up the telegram and put it into the pocket of her cardigan. She walked beside April and wondered what was going on in her mind. And yet, did it matter? John loved her, and was thinking of her now. The two walked out on to the main deck.

“There he is, Mother.” April had forgotten about the telegram. She fell shyly back and tugged at her mother’s coat like a child.

“Where, darling?”

“There. Oh, let’s get away. He might see us.”

“But he has seen us,” said Mrs. Metcalfe very softly. “Don’t, April, it would look foolish.” She stood still and pretended not to be looking at the tall young man who was coming quickly across the deck. He had been standing and talking to two other men, but had instantly stopped when he caught sight of April and her mother. A relation of this exquisite little creature whom he had seen in the downstairs corridor. It would be easy enough to get to know them now. But not so easy when they had started and people had begun to pair off. Major Carew had made many voyages to the East.

“Well, I hope you’ve found everything very comfortable in your cabin.” Major Carew was well over thirty and perfectly at his ease. He smiled delightfully at April. “I met this young lady wandering about as if she didn’t know what she was going to do next,” he said, “so I gathered that it was her first voyage.”

“Oh yes, it is. It’s the first voyage for all of us,” smiled Mrs. Metcalfe. “I’m April’s mother. We’re terribly excited about it all.”

“Really? How nice. So was I when I went out first,” said Major Carew. “Now I’m afraid I’m terribly blasé.” His eyes were on April.

“How can you be blasé? It’s madly exciting,” beamed April. Her blue eyes were confidently lifted to the bronzed face that looked down at her.

“Well, you see, this is my seventh voyage,” said Major Carew. “I must say that this one promises to be a little more exciting, because I’ve generally had the misfortune to be travelling in a trooper.”

“Oh, are you a soldier?” said April naïvely.

“For my sins, yes,” said Major Carew. “A Sapper. Your mother will tell you what that is, Miss ...”

“Metcalfe,” supplied Mrs. Metcalfe, gazing at Major Carew as if by staring at him hard enough she could tell whether he was married or not.

“Don’t you like being a Sapper?” said April, puzzled.

“Oh yes, I like it. It’s all right for a man like me who has no ties,” returned Major Carew cheerfully. His keen grey eyes were frightfully amused at Miss Metcalfe’s mother. Like a nice soft bird crouching over her chickens and making a little squawk when some large depredating bird flew over the run, he thought, wanting to laugh.

“Oh,” and then Mrs. Metcalfe felt the telegram crunching in her pocket and suddenly wondered whether there was time to send an answer to it. “Could I send an answer to a telegram?” she asked Major Carew abruptly.

“If you do it at once, yes,” said Major Carew, glancing down at his wrist-watch. “We don’t leave until half-past one.”

“Wait for me here, darling, will you?” said Mrs. Metcalfe, and without waiting she turned and ran like a girl down the deck.

“Oh,” said April softly and explosively.

“Come for a turn,” said Major Carew. They walked together down the deck. The two men who had been with him until April and her mother appeared looked after them and then smiled at one another. And then like men they talked about something else. Not so the women. One of them knew Major Carew already and had been delighted to find that he was on board. To have had a really exciting flirtation with him would have been fun, thought Mrs. Payne discontentedly, dragging her deck-chair crossly a little further back. Young girls were maddening on voyages when they were as pretty as that. They ought to have a deck for themselves, thought Mrs. Payne, who really was a nice woman, only she had just left two children at home and was going out to rejoin a husband whom she had never really cared about.

Meanwhile April trod on air. Major Carew seemed in some strange way to fill up a bit of her that had never been filled up before. She could think of lots of things to say to him that she had never thought of saying to anyone before, either. All the extraordinary things, like lascars in little scarlet twisted caps and blue linen suits swarming about the rails and tugging at ropes, passed her by. The smart deck steward, politely concerned with tiresome people’s lost deck-chairs, glanced at April and Major Carew, and touched his peaked cap respectfully to the latter. “Do you know him?” asked April.

“I went home with him last time,” said Major Carew; April’s spontaneity intrigued him vastly. Gad, and she was pretty! And the mother was charming, too. Was there a father? he wondered.

“You see, Mother has a brother who is a Collector at Wandara,” said April, answering Major Carew’s unspoken question. “So Flavia and Mother and I are going out to stay with him for the winter.”

“Flavia?”

“Yes, she’s my twin sister,” said April. “At first I don’t expect you’ll be able to tell us apart.”

“I shall,” said Major Carew meaningly. And Something far away and hidden and watching chuckled at this careless assertion.

“Please don’t think I’m rude when I say that I don’t think you will,” said April earnestly. “We’re really very much alike until you get to know us well.”

“We’ll see,” said Major Carew. And then he suddenly stopped and stared very hard. “Jove, you’re right,” he said. “That must be she: with your mother.”

“Yes,” said April, also stopping and staring. And for the first time in her life she wished that her mother and Flavia were somewhere else. Somehow, for her they had ceased to exist since she had begun to talk to this man. He was so ...

“Hallo! has April got to know someone already?” Flavia was crinkling up her eyes.

“Yes, a Major Carew. At least, I think that must be his name. There are some telegrams for him on the board and I feel sure they are for him, somehow,” said Mrs. Metcalfe. Childishly she was reproaching herself for having come up the particular flight of steps that she had. She wanted April to get to know this delightful man before Flavia came on the scene. She knew Flavia so well. April would have no chance....

“I should like to know him too,” said Flavia promptly.

“Well ...” And then the question was settled by Major Carew himself. He pretended not to see Flavia and her mother and swung round, beginning to walk the other way. April turned too, but she was alarmed. Flavia would think that she had done it on purpose.

“I wonder if there are any telegrams for me. Let’s go and see.” For some inscrutable reason Major Carew didn’t want to let April go.

“Oh yes,” said April. The word “telegram” brought all her disquiet back again. How she would love to tell this tall understanding man all about her mother and Mr. Maxwell and ask him what he thought about it. Perhaps she would be able to one day, thought April, feeling his touch on her arm as he led her round to the companion doorway and wondering why an odd little shiver ran all through her as he did so.

“There are some!” said Major Carew triumphantly as they came down the wide stairs and stood before the notice board. “Three.” He took them off and touched April’s arm again.

“Come and sit down here while I read them,” he said, and he drew April along with him.

And ten minutes later Flavia found them there. Talking hard. April more animated than she had ever seen her. Flavia felt cross. She was the eldest, too, and although people had stared at her a lot no one had spoken to her yet. She walked up to April and said her name.

And that was the end of the delightful talk. Major Carew got up instantly on to his feet and April rather awkwardly introduced Flavia to him. But she did it the wrong way round, as Flavia told her sharply when the two girls found themselves in their cabin again.

“Did I? Does it matter?” asked April humbly.

“Of course. It’s rude to the woman to introduce her to the man. You introduce the man to her,” said Flavia grandly. “However, it doesn’t matter as long as we know each other. I wonder if he dances. What enchanting grey eyes he has. However did you get to know him?”

“I don’t know,” said April drearily. She went to the porthole and stared out of it. Tilbury looked dark and dreary and it had begun to rain. Tugs fussed round them and made loud raucous noises from their funnels. There was a noise everywhere, thought April, turning and staring round the cabin and thinking how small it was for three weeks and for two people. And Flavia had already appropriated two of her pegs.

“Anyhow, I know him now,” said Flavia complacently.