Читать книгу The Unlit Lamp - Radclyffe Hall - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Breakfast was late. How could it be otherwise? Had not Mrs. Ogden sat in the bath for at least half an hour? There had been no hot water when at last Colonel Ogden got into the bath-room, and a kettle had had to be boiled. All this had taken time. Milly and Joan watched their mother apprehensively. Joan scented a breakdown in the near offing, for Mrs. Ogden's hands were trembling.

'Your father's breakfast, Joan; for heaven's sake ring the bell!' Joan rang it. 'The master's breakfast, Alice?'

'The kidneys aren't done.'

'Why not, Alice?'

'There 'asn't been time!'

'Nonsense, make haste. The colonel will be down in a minute.'

Alice banged the door, and Mrs. Ogden's eyes filled. Her courage had all run away with the bath water. She had been through hell, she told herself melodramatically; she had at last seen things as they were. Thump--thump and then thump--thump--that was James putting on his boots! Oh, where was the breakfast! Where were James's special dishes, the kidneys and the curried eggs; what was Alice doing? Thump--thump--there it was again! She clasped her hands in an agony.

'Joan, Joan, do go and see about breakfast.'

'It's all right, Mother, here it is.'

'Put it on the hot plate quickly--now the toast. Children make your father's toast--don't burn it whatever you do!' Thump--thump--thump--that was three thumps and there ought to be four; would James never make the fourth thump? She thought she would go mad if he left off at three. Ah! There it was, that was the fourth thump; now surely he must be coming. The toast was made; it would get cold and flabby. James hated it flabby. If they put it in the grate it would get hard; James hated it hard. Where was James?

'Children, put the toast in the grate; no, don't--wait a minute.'

Now there was another sound; that was James blowing his nose. He must be coming down, then, for he always blew his nose on his soiled pocket handkerchief with just that sound, before he took his clean one. What was that--something broken!

'Joan, go and see what Alice has smashed. Oh! I hope it's not the new breakfast dish, the fire-proof one!'

Thump, thump, on the stairs this time; James was coming down at last. 'Joan, never mind about going to the kitchen; stay here and see to your father's breakfast.'

The door opened and Colonel Ogden came in. He was very quiet, a bad sign; there was blood from a scratch on his chin to which a pellet of cotton wool adhered.

'Coffee, dear?'

'Naturally. By the way, Mary, you'll oblige me by leaving a teacupful of hot water for me to shave with another time.' He felt his scratch carefully.

'Joan, get your father the kidneys. Will you begin with kidneys or curried eggs?'

'Kidneys. By the way, Mary, I don't pay a servant to smear my brown boots with pea soup; I pay her to clean them--to clean them, do you hear? To clean them properly.' The calm with which he had entered the room was fast disappearing; his voice rose.

'James, dear, don't excite yourself'

The colonel cut a kidney viciously; as he did so, tell-tale stains appeared on the plate.

'Damn it all Mary! Do you think I'm a cannibal?'

'Oh, James!'

'Oh, James, oh, James! It's sickening, Mary. No hot water, not even to shave with, and now raw kidneys; disgusting! You know how I hate my food underdone. Damn it all Mary, I don't run a household for this sort of thing! Give me the eggs!'

'Joan, fetch your father the eggs!'

'What's the matter with the toast, Mary? It's stone cold!'

'You came down so late, dear.'

'I didn't get into the bath-room until twenty minutes past eight. I can't eat this toast.'

'Joan, make your father some fresh toast; be quick, dear, and Milly, take the kidneys to Ellen and ask her to grill them a little more. Now James here's some nice hot coffee.'

'Sit down!' thundered the colonel.

Joan and Milly sat down hastily. 'Keep quiet; you get on my nerves, darting about all round the table. Upon my word, Mary, the children haven't touched their breakfast!'

'But, James--'

'That's enough I say; eat your bacon, Milly. Joan, stop shuffling your feet.'

Milly, her face blotched with nervousness, attempted to spear the cold and stiffening bacon; it jumped off her fork on to the cloth as though possessed of a malicious life energy. Colonel Ogden's eyes bulged with irritation, and he thumped the table.

'Upon my word, Mary, the children have the table manners of Hottentots.'

Now by all the laws of the Medes and Persians, Mrs. Ogden, on this Day of Days, should have remained calm and disdainful. But to-day had begun badly. There had been that little cloud which had grown and grown until it became the household books; it was over her now, enveloping her. She could not see through it, she could not collect her forces. 'We Routledges!' It didn't ring true, it was like a blast blown on a cracked trumpet. She prayed fervently for self-control, but she knew that she prayed in vain. Her throat ached, she was going fast, slipping through her own fingers with surprising rapidity.

Colonel Ogden began again: 'Well, upon my--'

'Don't, don't!' shrieked Mrs. Ogden hysterically. 'Don't say it again, James. I can't bear it!'

'Well upon my word.'

'There! You've said it! Oh, Oh, Oh!' She suddenly covered her face with her table napkin and burst into loud sobs.

Colonel Ogden was speechless. Then he turned a little pale, his heart thumped.

'Mary, for heaven's sake!'

'I can't help it, James! I can't, I can't!'

'But, Mary, my dear!'

'Don't touch me, leave me alone!'

'Oh, all right; but I say, Mary, don't do this.'

'I wish I were dead!'

'Mary!'

'Yes I do, I wish I were dead and out of it all!'

'Nonsense--rubbish!'

'You'll be sorry when I am dead!'

He stretched out a plump hand and laid it on her shoulder. 'Go away, James!'

'Oh, all right! Joan, look after your mother, she don't seem well.'

He left the room, and they heard the front door bang after him. Mrs. Ogden looked over the table napkin. 'Has he gone, Joan?'

'Yes, Mother. Oh, you poor darling!' They clung together.

Mrs. Ogden dried her eyes; then she poured out some coffee and drank it.

'I'm better now, dear.' She smiled cheerfully.

And she was better. As she rose from the table the dark cloud lifted, she saw clearly once more; saw the Routledge banner streaming in the breeze.

And now for those tiresome books', she said almost gaily.

She went away to the drawing-room and Joan collapsed; she felt sick, scenes always upset her.

She thought: 'I wish I could hide my head in a table napkin and cry like Mother did.' Then she thought: 'I wonder how Mother manages it. I wouldn't have cried, I'd have hit him!'

She could not eat. In the drawing-room she heard her mother humming, yes, actually humming over the books!

'That's all right', thought Joan, 'they must be nice and cheap this week, that's a comfort anyhow.'

Presently Mrs. Ogden looked into the dining-room.

'Joan!'

'Yes, Mother?'

'No lessons to-day, dear.'

'No, Mother.'

'Come and help me to place the wreath.'

They fetched it, carrying it between them; a laurel wreath large enough to cover the frame of the admiral's picture.

'Tell Alice to bring the steps, Joan. Now, dear, you hold them while I get up. How does it look?'

'Lovely, Mother.'

'Joan, never forget that half of you is Routledge. Never forget my dear, that the best blood in your veins comes from my side of the family. Never forget who you are, Joan; it helps one a great deal in life to have something like that to cling to, something to hold on to when the dark days come.'