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Authors: Sara Seale

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BOOK: Green Girl
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Harriet thought it strange that no attempt seemed to have been made to break the news to the little girl of her father

s remarriage, since the school was so near at hand, but when she suggested that they might take the child out for the day and get acquainted, he replied that he thought it best to wait until she came home for the Christmas holidays.

Christmas
...
The magic word at once restored and excited, and it was little more than six weeks away, despite the deceptive mildness of a wet November, Harriet realised, and her mind was immediately filled with the image she had associated with places like Castle Clooney; bustling preparations, fat cooks making endless puddings with everyone stirring and making a wish, a giant tree all lit up and hung with presents for the village children, laughter and secrets, tinsel and holly and carols, and open house for all.

Harriet thought Duff looked at her a little oddly, however, when she broached her plans to him.


I

m afraid you

ll be disappointed, Harriet,

he said wryly.

There hasn

t been a Christmas like that at Clooney since I was a boy. In those days there were more servants and one

s relations far and near were gathered into the fold, I suppose, but now there

s not enough staff to cope with house-parties, and most of the relations have died off or have family house-warmings of their own.


There was Nonie,

she reminded him.


You

re thinking I

m an unnatural and far too casual parent, aren

t you, Harriet? My daughter, unfortunately, doesn

t care for me very much, so it

s been difficult to establish any kind of companionable relationship.


Perhaps you haven

t gone the right way about things,

she said.


Very likely not,

he agreed a shade regretfully.

I left her too much to servants in the early days when I shut the place up and racketed round the world, I suppose. By the time I settled down here again I was a stranger to her, so I sent her to school.

“Was
she here alone all that time?

Harriet asked.


Oh, no. She went to her grandparents every so often, but I

m not sure if that was a good thing,

he replied rather shortly, and she looked surprised for, apart from his cousin Rory, he had never mentioned other relatives.


Grandparents?


Kitty

s people. They still live in Dublin. They wanted to adopt Nonie at one time, but that notion was intended as a reproach rather than an honest desire for the child, I think.


Poor No
nie
... poor little girl
...” she
murmured, and he raised a quizzical eyebrow.


Conserve your pity, my dear, until you get to know one another. You may find it thrown back in your face,

he said dryly.

But don

t look so startled; you

re possibly young enough to meet my daughter on her own ground. In fact, of the two of you, I would say you were the younger.

The weather grew colder and the house with it. Harriet could understand now why most of the rooms were shut up in winter for, with no central heating, the Castle would become icy if really hard weather set in, and she was grateful when Duff reverted to his old habit of living in two rooms, not only for the warmth, but for the greater intimacy engendered by the familiar mug and the little breakfast-room where they now took their meals. It was an intimacy that stopped there, however. Every evening he bade her goodnight downstairs and she repaired to her high, impersonal bedroom which, despite a good fire, always struck chill. She would listen for the sounds of him moving about next door and wished he would sometimes poke his head round the intervening door and wish her a final goodnight just to be friendly, but although she never turned the key in the lock, the door remained closed between them and she hadn

t the courage to risk
a snub by making the first overtures herself.

She was, had she understood her conflicting emotions during the night watches, already halfway to being in love with the ugly stranger who, although her husband, treated her with the mixture of indulgence and impatience a kindly uncle might have shown; she was, had she known it, so starved of the personal affection that life in a busy community must perforce rule out that she would have laid her untapped store of loving and giving at the feet of any person who had need of her.

She resisted with admirable self-control the temptation to woo the two Alsatians into caring for her, but their polite indifference continued to hurt her. The dog, she imagined, had thawed slightly and bore with a little judicious petting, even sometimes offering a paw, but Delsa still would have none of her, and waited impatiently for her master

s return.


It must be wonderful to have some living creature so devoted, so utterly dependent on your every mood,

she said one day, and he caught the note of envy and longing in her voice.


I

m afraid with this breed you

ll always have to take second place if their hearts are already given,

he said gently.

I must buy you a dog of your own, something that will be company for you when you

re alone. The magic of your fairy-tale

s beginning to wear off, isn

t it?


No—oh, no!

she protested quickly, afraid of a gentle snub at the expense of her regrettable habit of expecting miracles, and then could have hit him for uncovering a truth she had not faced for herself. Clooney had, indeed, become a disappointment.


Don

t feel too cheated, Harriet,

he said, touching her
cheek with compassionate fingers:

You expect too much, you know, with that unbridled imagination of yours working overtime. Things will fall into proportion as you get older. In the meantime, I

ll see what I can do about a dog for you.

But she found her own dog, and that made it doubly precious, for it was the first concession she was to win for herself by putting up a fight.

Now that the days had turned so much colder, she had acquired the habit of putting out food for the birds every morning after breakfast, braving Agnes

displeasure by invading the kitchen for scraps.


You

re a quare wan,

she said, but for once her bright, bad-tempered little eyes softened.

Well, it

s not your feathered cronies gets the benefit, I

m thinkin

, for the food

s gone in the wink of a pig

s eye, an

if you

re en
c
ouragin

rats, himself won

t be best pleased, an

so I

m tellin

you.

But it was not rats that were stealing the birds

food. Harriet hid herself, deciding to watch, and presently a lean and very bedraggled dog advanced a tentative, quivering snout between the iron bars of the high, locked gates, and then squeezed its skinny body through into the courtyard and wolfed down Harriet

s offerings with such lightning speed that she blinked incredulously at sight of the empty dish.


Oh, you poor thing, you must be starved!

she exclaimed with compassion, emerging without caution from her hiding place, and the dog gave her one wild, terrified look and bolted back through the bars of the gates.

Harriet made no mention in the kitchen of the raider, but she bribed Molly to save bones and, meat scraps each day without the cook

s knowledge, and for a week she fed the dog, not attempting to touch and scare it. Then one morning she ventured to coax it to come to her and after some hesitation the animal advanced on its belly in a series of ingratiating wriggles and allowed her to stroke it. After that her cup was full of joy, for each morning the dog was
waiting for her, and having overcome the first hurdle of fear and suspicion, fawned upon her with pathetic eagerness. It was, she supposed doubtfully, a rather odd-looking animal and decidedly common.


I

m afraid you

re no beauty,

she told it sadly, but at least, she thought, its eyes were beautiful, soft and dark and heartbreaking with the renewal of trust and love she herself had put there. Something strange and tender happened to Harriet when each day she had to leave the dog and shoo it away to wherever it belonged, for it was an outcast like herself. Duff had promised her a dog; well, she would have this one and none other—for had it not chosen her? Whoever it belonged to could, she thought, scarcely object to selling it, judging by its blocking condition.

She enlisted Molly

s aid, and one day they smuggled the dog into the old laundry at the back of the kitchen and gave it a bath.


You

re not thinkin

of kapin

it here, are you, ma

am?

Molly asked when it had become clear to her that the operation was not merely to satisfy a kink for hygiene that the heathen English seemed to be
born
with.


Of course. Mr. Lonnegan has promised me a dog, and this is the one I

ve chosen—at least he really chose me. Do you know who he belongs to?


Ah, sure, that wan

s been kicked around
from
one cottage to another this past twelve month.

Tes a stray, the craythur, an

nobody owns it. But himself will not be wishin

to have it here with his prize Alsatians, let me tell you,

the girl said, and Harriet replied:

We

ll see. It wouldn

t hurt those snooty Alsatians to be taken down a peg or two, if it comes to that, and I sure Mr. Lonnegan

s no snob.

Whether he was a snob or not, however, Duff proved anything but amendable when confronted with his wife

s choice of a pet.


My dear child! You

ll be the laughing stock of the place if you trail a monstrosity like that about with you,

he said, eyeing the newly-washed mongrel with much disfavour.


He

s not a monstrosity—only ill-treated and
half-starved
.


He

s certainly that, poor-beast,

Duff allowed.

We

ll give him a square meal and send him home.


He hasn

t got a home. Molly says he

s been around for ages and nobody wants him.


Well, I don

t want him, either. As a matter of fact I

ve heard of a suitable dog for you—well-bred spaniel pup, five months old, house-trained and all the rest of it, so you can forget about this extraordinary-looking animal. I

ll find it a good home with one of the tenants, if that will satisfy you.


No, it won

t, I

m afraid,

she said nervously but quite firmly, and he gave her a quick look. He had not expected to have any argument over such a trivial matter, but he was beginning to recognize a stubborn streak in Harriet that gave her courage if she was driven beyond a certain point.


But my dear, be reasonable,

he said kindly.

You can

t adopt every common stray that takes your fancy.


I only want this one. He chose me,

said Harriet.

At first he wouldn

t come near me, but I

ve been feeding him for a week and he trusts me. You can

t gain a creature

s trust and confidence and then turn it away.

He regarded her reflectively, wondering for a moment if this was a rather subtle dig at him, but Harriet was not subtle, and the eyes raised to his held a look of such anxious pleading and hope that he was uncomfortably reminded of the same expression in the eyes of the dog.


Duff—

she said, her gentle voice a little unsteady for the first time,

I

ve never asked you for anything—and I do need a new coat and some warm jersey

s and things, but they can wait—suppose
...
suppose no one will take him in
...
suppose you hadn

t taken we in? There

s not much difference between us, you know—we

re both strays.

He looked down at her crouched beside the dog, both of them gazing at him with identical expressions, and he wanted to take the pair of them and knock their silly heads together.

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