I'll Never Marry! (22 page)

Catherine longed to ask:
“
Why don
’
t you tell Geoffrey Barbin what
’
s happened, and see if he
’
ll help?
”
But she refrained, for fear Hilda might flare up
at her in front of the children, and the next instant her attention
was distracted by Nicola who rushed, up to Hilda, her dark eyes still brimming with tears, and flung her arms round her neck.

“
Miss Dewney, you
’
re an absolute angel. I
’
ll never
’
forget this—never.
”

“
Nonsense!
”
Hilda tried, not very effectually, to conceal her pleasure at this spontaneous embrace.
“
It
’
s you that
’
s supposed to be the angel—and mind you behave like one while I
’
m gone!
”

S
o busy was Catherine after this, helping the excited children try on their costumes and then, with Matron
’
s assistance, getting the whole family to bed, that she did not worry unduly when, by eight o
’
clock, Hilda had still not returned.

Matron, however, was showing distinct signs of anxiety and when, at half-past, eight, having been out in the road two or three times to look for her, she announced that the wind had veered east, and that it was beginning to freeze hard, Catherine, too, began to feel scared.

Nine o
’
clock came; and then Matron, unable to bear the suspense any longer, declared that she was going across to ask Geoffrey to get his car out and drive slowly in the Great Garsford direction. But she had hardly pulled on her coat and her thick shoes when there was the sound of heavy footsteps on the crackling surface of the ground, and the next minute the back door was flung open and Geoffrey himself staggered in.

“
Here we are,
”
he exclaimed, with exaggerated nonchalance, and deposited very carefully on the
kitchen table, not the usual sack of fruit or vegetables, but a snow-covered bundle which revealed itself an instant later as the flushed and embarrassed Hilda.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“My d
ear Hilda—what have you done to yourself?
”
Matron
’
s face, as she jumped up, and hurried across to the girl, was full of concern.

“
Only given myself a bit of a shaking; but unfortunately
I
lost one of my shoes.
”
Hilda was certainly looking far more flustered than hurt.
“
I had a spill on the way home, and landed in a ditch full of snow.
”

“
She had picked herself and the bicycle out—more or less—and was hunting frantically for the missing shoe, when I happened along,
”
Geoffrey put in.
“
My car lights were slightly more effective than her bicycle-lamp, so we retrieved the shoe eventually. After that, as her bicycle was somewhat—crumpled!—she deigned to finish the journey by car.
”
He was
smiling
enigmatically at Hilda now.
“
But I believe she half repented not walking home on her two feet. She had to listen to a
few well-chosen words from me on the subject of her foolishness in not asking me to run her in. I was going to Great Garsford anyway, and could easily have made it earlier.
”

“
I told him we could hardly look upon him in the light of our private chauffeur,
”
Hilda began, trying hard to look dignified.

His face lit up with delighted amusement.
“
And what did I say to that, Hilda?
”

“
You talked a lot of nonsense,
”
Hilda said quickly, refusing sedulously to meet his eyes.
“
And now, if you
don
’
t
m
ind, I
’
ll get out of these dripping things, and into my nice warm bed. Here
’
s Nicola
’
s costume,
”
and she produced a flat parcel from inside
her coat.
“
It will want pressing, but I contrived to keep it dry.
”

“
Very well; I
’
ll take your cycle home with me, and have a look at it. I
’
ll bring it back for sure, tomorrow or the next day.
”
To Catherine
’
s sunrise Geoffrey did not sound in the least chilled by Hilda
’
s curtness; but Matron, feeling perhaps that he had been insufficiently thanked, expressed her gratitude in no uncertain terms.

“
We couldn
’
t have a better friend and neighbor,
”
she said,
“
and I only wish we could do more to show our appreciation. Now we can
’
t ask you in tomorrow—we shall be frantically busy over the play. But what about coming in for supper on Christmas Eve? All but the ti
n
ies are going to sit up until eight o
’
clock, and sing carols.
”

“
That will be grand,
”
he returned cheerfully.
“
You
’
ll be seeing me tomorrow all the same. I have to deliver that Christmas tree I promised you—and some good bunches of holly and mistletoe—unless, of course, Miss Dewney disapproves of mistletoe.
”

“
Disapprove? Of course I don
’
t.
”
Hilda
’
s chin went up in characteristic manner.
“
I think it
’
s rather unnecessary, that
’
s all.
”

“
Exactly my sentiments, Hilda,
”
Geoffrey concurred heartily.
“
I couldn
’
t agree with you more.
”
Then, as Hilda
’
s flush deepened ominously, he gave the three of them a hasty
“
Goodnight,
”
and went off, leaving a trail of melted snow behind him.

Whatever Matron thought of this rather odd little scene, she made
no comment, but hustling Hilda off to have a speedy hot bath, set to work to make cocoa and cut sandwiches. As for Catherine,, she seized a pail of hot water and a floor cloth and, heedless of Matron
’
s remonstrances, went quickly over the tiled floor, mopping up the great pools of melted snow which Geoffrey and Hilda had left—well knowing that if she postponed the job she would find it done—by Matron—when she came down in the morning.

It
was not only coltish Nicola who held up breakfast next day by hugging Hilda and smothering her with grateful kisses. Family feeling had grown so strong among the children that Nicola
’
s joy and relief were shared in full measure by them all. Even the babies, who had very little idea of what had been happening, clutched Hilda round the knees and clamored for a share in all this mysterious kissing and hugging.

Maureen alone was too shy to join in the uproar. She contented herself with smiling timidly at Hilda from a distance, and then took refuge with Catherine, helping her put round the plates of porridge, and tie the bibs round the toddlers, as they began to drift back to the low table assigned to them, and climb into their accustomed chairs.

Frost and sunshine had replaced the swirling snow and mist of the previous day, and the crispness in the air raised the children
’
s spirits to a high pitch. The long hours of rehearsal were over and done with; this afternoon, at last, the Nativity Play was to be given. And in two days
’
time it would be Christmas.

The original notion had been to limit the audience to
“
members of the Women
’
s Institute and their friends,
”
but so eager was everyone in the village to see the play that this label became ludicrously elastic. Every member suddenly discovered that she had a host of friends,
male and female, and an overflow performance had to be arranged for Boxing Day.

Hilda, who had been put in charge of the costumes, had, of course, to attend both performances; but Matron and Catherine were to take it in turns to see the show, Catherin
e
going first.

Somewhat to her dismay Catherine found, on arriving at the hall with a bunch of excited youngsters, that she, too, was needed behind the scenes. Beryl had apparently decided that
she had done enough: that having coached the shepherds in their simple ballet, she was now entitled to sit back and watch the results of her industry. And though Cecily made no complaint over her friend
’
s desertion, both she and Hilda looked so tired that Catherine felt bound to come to their assistance.

To Catherine fell the job of giving the angels the final
“
once-over,
”
and she was in the little passage behind the stage, fixing Maureen
’
s silver halo more securely on the child
’
s dark curls, when Andrew came along.

“
I
’
ve just been handing our old collie over to Ruth,
”
he said, pleasantly, but with a trace of embarrassment.
“
But, my goodness, Maureen, you are smart. Some angel!
”

Maureen smiled at him happily.
“
I
’
m not nearly so grand as Nicola,
”
she told him, adding generously:
“
She has the nicest costume of all—blue shot with gold—and she deserves it. You
’
ve no idea how beautifully she sings, without a piano, or anything.
”

“
I think white and silver looks very nice,
”
Andrew assured her.

“
Oh, but this dress of Nicola
’
s is
heavenly
”
Maureen insisted.
“
And if it hadn
’
t been for Miss Dewney, she mightn
’
t have had it in time for today
’
s performance. Miss Dewney bicycled to Great Garsford yesterday evening specially to fetch it; and wasn
’
t it awful?
’
—she fell into a ditch full of snow on the way back, and Mr. Barbin had to pull her out.
”

Catherine, aware of Andrew
’
s barely suppressed chuckle, tried to signal to Maureen that she had said enough; but
she
failed to catch her eye, and the child went on confidentially:
“
Not that Mr. Barbin would mind. We all think he wants to marry Miss Dewney, and take her off to live with him.
”

“
Good gracious!
”
Andrew looked startled now, as well as amused. But before he could speak, Maureen suddenly turned and looked up at Catherine with a sweet and utterly trustful expression in her blue eyes, and said adoringly:
“
If it was Miss Cat who was going away, it would be quite different. I think I
’
d die! But she isn
’
t going to. She said once she would never marry; and after all, why should she? She
’
s got plenty of children already.
”

Cecily called then from the distance:
“
Maureen,
”
and the child ran off, leaving Andrew and Catherine standing there alone.

“
I must be getting a move on,
”
Catherine said hastily, conscious, as always, of a quickening of her heartbeats, when Andrew was near.

“
Of course!
”
Andrew
’
s voice, though queerly troubled, held that well-remembered note of sarcasm.
“
You invariably have urgent business in the opposite direction, when I happen to come along.
”

She gave a little sigh.
“
Don
’
t let
’
s quarrel,
”
she said.
“
After all, I shall be going away from here before long.
”

“
Going away
!”
He sounded utterly dumbfounded.
“
You mean to
say that you
’
re leaving this neighborhood
,
altogether
deserting that child, when you know
—”

“
For goodness
’
sake, don
’
t talk so loud,
”
Catherine put in nervously.

“
There you are, you
’
re ashamed,
”
he retorted, lowering his voice.
“
And I should think so, too.
”

She stiffened. How dare he attack her like this? Did he suppose that because he was of some importance locally—a J.P. and a large-scale farmer—he had the right to dictate to an employee of the local authority?—to order her comings and goings?

“
It
’
s hardly your business whether I go or stay,
”
she said evenly.
“
Nor can I see what possible interest my movements can have for you. However, if you are genuinely concerned over Maureen, I don
’
t mind telling you—in confidence—that when I am transferred, in the New Year, she will be accompanying me.
”

But somehow this reassurance did not have the effect which might have been anticipated. He said moodily:
“
I can
’
t see why either of you need go.
”

“
Perhaps not,
”
she rejoined coolly.
“
Why should you?
”
And then as some of the children, ready to go on, began to drift into the passage, she turned tail and fled to the wings,
where she was to act as prompter, leaving him to make his way to the front of the house.

Soon the wings were crowded with children, and with a sprinkling of grown-ups who were supposed, not only to send them on in the right order, but to see that they were quiet meanwhile. But some of these older folk, mothers of young performers, were more inclined to chatter than the children themselves. And two of them, standing near Catherine, could not restrain themselves from peeping through a chink in the curtains.

“
You can see her ring from here, my dear,
”
one of them was whispering excitedly.
“
A great flashing diamond. Must have cost Mr. Playdle a pretty penny.
”

“
I can
’
t understand why she didn
’
t choose the other young fellow, all the same,
”
the second woman returned huskily.
“
You know—that Mr. Alldyke.
”

“
Because he hasn
’
t near as much money,
”
was the swift and crushing retort.

“
Lord, Ada, don
’
t you ever hear anything? It was in the paper weeks ago that an uncle—not the one over at Brexham—had died and left him a packet.
”

The first woman sniffed. She did not seem to appreciate her friend
’
s insinuation that she was behind the times.

“
Gossip never did come my way,
”
she remarked acidly.
“
Any road, there
’
s still some girls who
’
d rather wed a fine, upstanding fellow like Mr. Playdle—a man who isn
’
t afraid to handle
a
spade or a pitchfork, when needed—than a little chap like that other, even if it meant living in a cottage—which it doesn
’
t.
”

But Mrs. Number Two was far too thrilled to take offence at the other
’
s tart
n
ess.

“
There,
”
she murmured ecstatically, her eye still glued to the chink.
“
He
’
s gone to sit beside her. Smiling at her, he is, ever so nicely. And she looks—Well, there
’
s only one way to describe it, Ada—like the cat that
’
s swallowed the cream.
”

“
I guess that
’
s how she
’
s feeling, too,
”
Catherine thought, almost suffocating with misery.
“
Oh, why can
’
t I put him out of my mind—a man who scolds and hectors me over something which is absolutely no concern of his, and then goes straight to the girl who is wearing his ring and positively purrs at her?
Haven
’
t I any pride at all?
”

And then, as she clenched her hands in the effort to keep back the angry tears, the lights in front went down, the village band struck up, raspingly but with energy, that cheerful old carol,
“
Good Christian Men, Rejoice,
”
and Mary and Joseph took up their positions beside the manger.

A bell sounded; the curtains were deftly drawn apart. People, everywhere, seemed to be catching their breath.

Now she must think no more of those two,
sitting
in the front row, their hands, no doubt, clasped in the friendly darkness: must ache and agonize no more.

All her attention must be given to the players on the little stage, and to the book she held.