Summer at the Haven (4 page)

She fell in love with Greece when she got there, even before she met Leila. Dorothy was always falling in love with no hope and indeed with no great wish for any return. To be in love was enough. As a girl she had fallen in love with her geography mistress, which was a pity as it led to her
taking up a subject in which she had never really been much interested. Then her loves succeeded each other in quick succession. There was Leslie Howard, and Jessie Matthews, and Laurence Olivier, and Vivien Leigh and the young local Conservative candidate who came one day to speak to the school and for whom she afterwards licked many election envelopes, and there was a headgirl, who looked like a fawn and had acted Juliet in the school production so movingly that Dorothy could hardly restrain her tears, and then there was Greece and Leila Ford.

In this, as in much else, Leila was her opposite. Leila had only loved once and for all in her life and was as constant and ardent a lover as any immortalized in literature. She was the only child of a late marriage, but her parents had not wished for any other children who might have deprived their Lilly (for so she had been christened) of their undivided attention. They believed her to be the prettiest and the cleverest little girl in the world, and as soon as she was old enough, which was remarkably soon, she fully agreed with them. Nothing was thought too good for her, but unfortuntely this resulted in nothing being quite good enough. As soon as she went to school the trouble began.

‘Lilly, teacher says you are to be an angel in the Christmas play.”

“But I want to be Mary.’” And it went on like this.

Lilly really had striking looks but she possessed little real ability and the stage, which had seemed to offer so much glamour as a career, proved hard going. After a few minor engagement with touring companies, she decided marriage was preferable to continuing to cast her pearls before swine. But once again she was dreadfully disappointed.

“Darling,” she confided to Dorothy as they gazed together at the columns of Sumnian, “I gave up everything, yes, everything, for him and on our honeymoon I discovered –” she paused and lowered her voice and
Dorothy caught her breath in delicious suspense – “I discovered he was a pervert.”

Dorothy only had the vaguest idea of what this could mean but obviously it was some almost unmentionable horror, and she thrilled at the thought that this tragic victim, almost in fact an Iphigenia or an Antigone, was actually pouring out her heart to
her.
Yes, the marriage stage which should have only brought more gifts to lay at the feet of Leila, the loved one, had had the impudence to demand unpleasant and inexcusable returns. It became obvious to Leila that she must be loyal to her first love – one could not serve two masters.

“It was, of course, impossible to stay with him,” she said, “so I went back to my parents, my life ruined.”

“Couldn’t you have gone on with your acting?” said Dorothy. “You must have been
such
a loss. How I would have loved to have seen you!”

“Darling, the blow was too great, you don’t quite understand. Look, we must go, the coach is filling up.”

Later, Dorothy learned that it was not long since Leila, who was some years younger than herself, had lost her mother.

“It was her heart. She had just nursed me through influenza and I was away convalescing. She had caught it from me, you see.”

“Oh, dear!” said Dorothy. “How you must have suffered not being with her.”

“Yes,” said Leila, “I was in no state to look after my poor father. He has gone into a very nice Home. I felt I needed a thorough change after all the upset, so I booked this holiday. Darling, you are such a wonderful friend, there is no one here that I could possibly have told of all my troubles.”

This was probably true, as Dorothy Brown and herself happened to be the only unattached members of the party, all the rest being married couples or pairs of close friends.
In return for such confidences, Dorothy felt that the only item of interest in her own life was her legacy and indeed that seemed to interest Leila greatly.

“And where are you going to live now, dear? she asked.

“Well, besides the legacy,” said Dorothy almost apologetically, “my uncle left me a house in Darnley. I don’t suppose you’d have heard of Darnley, it’s a little town, really only a large village, in Warwickshire.”

“The very heart of old England!” exclaimed Leila.

“But it’s really too big a house for me,’ went on Dorothy, “and my solicitor advises me to sell it, so I may get a flat there instead, or somewhere else I suppose – I don’t quite know.”

“You vague little thing!” said Leila affectionately.

The day after this conversation, while admiring the stupendous views from Delphi, Leila resumed the subject.

“I think it would be a shame to sell your dear uncle’s house. Why not get a friend to share it with you? Two living together is so much cheaper than one.”

“I haven’t any friend who would want to, I am afraid,” said Dorothy. There was silence; the sun was disappearing behind the vast violet mountains and a wild impossible idea invaded her.

“I don’t suppose …’ she faltered, “oh, of course not, but you’re so kind, you’ll forgive me asking, but I don’t suppose you could think ever of sharing the house with me yourself.”

“You darling thing!” cried Leila. “How marvellous of you to propose such a thing! It might, d’you know, it might be possible, it just possibly might. Let’s sleep on it, shall we?”

Peacefully Leila slept on it, but Dorothy alternated between huge hopes and fears. She settled for fears, it would be too good to be true. But it wasn’t.

In the morning Leila said, “Well, darling, shall we give it a trial?”

When Leila actually saw the house, it obviously wouldn’t quite do as it stood, but after getting the willing Dorothy to throw out an extension and put in an extra window to the best room – “After all, dear, it’s improving the value of your property” – she found it took in her furniture quite satisfactorily, and so they settled down together and the long years passed, bringing, almost imperceptibly, unhappy changes to both.

For Leila, discontent became a way of life, only assuaged by eating and sleeping; Dorothy, for whom the glory had long departed, was always tired. One day, climbing the hill to Leila’s favourite Delicatessen to shop, she had fainted and was brought home in an ambulance. The doctor said she was suffering from severe anaemia. It was just about then that Leila had developed her nervous headaches – she was approaching seventy and Dorothy five or so years older – what was to be done? The answer was found in The Haven where there actually happened to be two rooms vacant at the same time – two adjoining rooms, one large and one small. It was providential.

“How cosy this is,” Leila had said, looking round the small one. “you’ll be so snug in here, Dot dear.”

MOST COMMITTEES
consist of one member (usually the chairman) who appears to be doing a great deal of important work, and another (usually the secretary) who really does it. Besides these two essential components, there is often someone who is constantly puzzled to find themselves on a committee at all, and another who seems to have been born there and whose lifelong hobby is to serve on as many others as possible. Most committees also contain certain ex-officio members of one sort or another and a spare part or two.

The house committee of The Haven was no exception to this. Lady Merivale had a reputation for philanthropy to keep up in her own eyes, as well as among her neighbours, and she was successful as a chairwoman, ordering people about quite naturally and without giving offence. Her secretary, Miss Honor Bredon, was capable, intelligent and hardworking, in fact a good secretary. The treasurer, Colonel Bradshaw (retired) did not do so badly either in what was a somewhat thankless and difficult job, for the finances of the Home were complicated and inadequate and what with inflation and his own kind and conscientious disposition, he spent quite a number of worried hours over The Haven’s affairs.

The vicar, an ex-officio member, was more interested in bees than in anything else in this world, or, it must be
confessed, in the next. He was secretary to the County Apiary Society and often wished his parishioners were as industrious, clever and orderly as his beloved bees. But he accepted that this was not so, nor ever would be, and he did his duty by them manfully, which included serving on this particular committee and visiting the old ladies from time to time. Miss Hughes, one of the spare parts, possessed a surplus of both money and leisure and too few friends or interests, and so, on looking through her distressingly empty diary, she hailed with delight the entry for May 10th – “Committee Meeting at The Haven, 2.30 p.m.” She had been proposed as a member by Col. Bradshaw at the instigation of his wife, who had refused the honour for herself.

“Yes, I know you are right, Dick, there should be another woman on the committee, considering The Haven is a Home for Old Ladies, but really, what with the Wives’ Fellowship and the Conservative Association and the secretaryship of the Bridge Club and the children and the garden, I really can’t undertake anything more, and Miss Hughes would love it.’

Miss Hughes did love it, only she wished she could think of something important to say at the Meetings. However, she could always assent or dissent heartily to show that she really was deeply involved and interested. Col. Bradshaw cherished a secret hope that one day it might occur to her to donate a small portion of her large income to ease the financial straits of The Haven, but his hope was unlikely to be realized. Her money being her one asset, she naturally clung to it with tenacity. The sixth member of the committee was an architect, a little restless man with a sandy moustache. Someone had once suggested that he could be helpful about problems of conversion and maintenance and might be in touch with cheap or even reasonable contractors. This had not hitherto been so. He spent the time during meetings wondering why he was pointlessly
wasting it and drawing little plans and pictures on his agenda paper. Seventh and last was a Mr Martin, the committee enthusiast, passionately addicted to irrelevant detail, but a mine of accurate information which was useful enough to outweigh the irritation he aroused.

Their number happened to be the same as the number of the residents and they sat round the same dignified solid table on the same uncomfortable and far from solid chairs. Only Lady Merivale was provided with an imitation Chippendale, the usual function of which was to lend tone to the entrance hall. The hyacinths, certainly now past their best, had been removed to the sideboard and were replaced by the lilac, picked by the warden the day before, but this had already elected to turn bad-tempered and was lifeless and droopy.

“Flowers always make a place look so homelike,” cooed Miss Hughes to Honor Bredon. “Our good Miss Blackett never spares herself, does she, to make everything as pleasant as possible for the old dears.”

Honor responded with a little grunt. She found it impossible either to agree or disagree.

Miss Blackett had had a strenuous morning and was looking hot in a too tight flowered artificial silk dress. With only Gisela’s inefficient help she had had to prepare the tea which was always provided after the meeting, to see to the dinner trays for the residents, to polish the table and set out the pads and pencils, never used, for members always had their own, but in her eyes the right and proper regalia for any committee. But, as she sank thankfully into her chair, she congratulated herself that all was as it should be and she looked forward to hearing the accustomed expressions of appreciation and confidence which she felt were certainly her due.

The vicar and Col. Bradshaw were discussing the local agricultural show, the architect (who felt the cold) had secured the place nearest to the radiator and was fidgeting
about already with paper and pencil, Lady Merivale was condescending pleasantly towards Miss Hughes, when Mr Martin hurried in, having swallowed a hasty sandwich in the train on the way from another meeting. Immediately everyone stopped talking and Lady Merivale picked up her agenda paper and said:

‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think perhaps we should begin. The first item for discussion, as you will see, is the matter of Mr Jackson’s bullocks.” Mr Jackson farmed the land adjoining The Haven. ‘They have apparently broken through the boundary fence and trampled over the copse. Miss Blackett reports that Fred Mills had great difficulty in chasing them back and that their hoof marks are all over the lawn, not to speak of damage done to the fruit trees and the copse.”

Col. Bradshaw frowned, Miss Hughes murmured, “Dear, dear, what a pity!”, and Mr Martin said: ‘Madam Chairman, may I ask whose responsibility it is to keep the fence in good repair and could it reasonably be said to be an adequate protection before this invasion?”

Col. Bradshaw said he was afraid the supports of the fence were on The Haven side of the ground, so legally the responsibility for the fence was not the farmer’s, but as far as he had ascertained, it was in a fair condition and the bullocks seemed of an exceptionally inquisitive and adventurous breed.

The vicar said he supposed that lot would soon be sold and the trouble wasn’t likely to recur. But Mr Martin rustled through his papers, of which he always had a stack, and finding at last the one he wanted, said with some satisfaction:

“Madam Chairman, it appears that this is not an isolated occurrence, in fact it might almost be said to be an annual event. Perhaps Miss Bredon will confirm this?”

Honour, who had already been looking up past Minutes, agreed that earlier bullocks had acted in the same way at least twice before.

Col. Bradshaw admitted that unfortunately Jackson owned a favourite cow, “a fine animal too”, who regularly produced a very agile and bold son who was a natural leader, and wherever this troublemaker led, the rest of the herd followed.

The architect remarked that this behaviour was not peculiar to bullocks. Mr Martin ignored this irrelevance and asked what should be done to stop the nuisance.

Miss Hughes echoed him with: “What indeed!”

Col. Bradshaw said that what was really needed was electric wiring and Mr Martin said that it was only right that Jackson should contribute to this or sell his cow.

Lady Merivale then proposed that Jackson should be approached by Col. Bradshaw as to the carrying out of some form of effective barrier between his field and the copse. Miss Hughes enthusiastically seconded the motion and the committee moved to the next item, which was the preliminary arrangements for the annual summer fête. The object of the fête was threefold – to arouse and maintain local interest in The Haven, to raise a sum of money for “extras” – no really substantial amount could be hoped for – and to give the ladies a chance to contribute articles for sale, so providing them with interest and suitable occupation and the satisfaction of feeling of use.

“Well, Miss Blackett,” said Lady Merivale, “who can we count on among our flock?”

“Mrs Perry will have some pot plants ready, I am sure, though I feel bound to say that she is not always prepared to give of her best.”

“She regards them as her children,” explained the vicar, “and finds it hard to part with any of them, but she is a charming old lady, and when it comes to the point, she’ll be generous, I’m
sure, and all her plants are well worth buying.”

Miss Hughes, who had never set eyes on Mrs Perry or her plants, assented heartily.

Miss Blackett sniffed a little resentfully and continued: “Mrs Thornton is making some quite pretty little patchwork cushion covers.”

“Now, I’ve always longed to do patchwork,” said Miss Hughes.

“Miss Norton is too blind to produce anything herself, but she has written to a nephew who has just returned from service abroad and she is sure he will send us some attractive foreign articles.”

“Splendid,” said Lady Merivale.

“Miss Ford is knitting squares which Miss Brown will make up into a coverlet,” continued Miss Blackett. Knitting squares was always a last resort for the least capable of the ladies.

“And they can be very pretty and useful,” said Lady Merivale, “I see that as usual you have home supplies well in hand, Miss Blackett. Colonel Bradshaw, I hope Mrs Bradshaw will undertake the produce stall as usual?’

‘Yes, I think you may count on her. Oh, she did ask me to mention that she hoped her stall could be sited in the shade this year. Last summer she said all the shady positions were taken before she could get here and the Produce Stall she feels, by its nature, should have priority. Her goods really did suffer rather badly,” he added apologetically.

“Oh, what a pity!” exclaimed Miss Hughes.

Honor Bredon made a note to see what could be done, but the question of sites was a tricky one.

“Madam Chairman,” said Mr Martin, “I believe it is the custom for the committee to provide the raffle prizes and that these are promised well in advance.”

“I’ll send along a bottle of sherry,” said Col. Bradshaw.

“A pot of honey from me,” said the vicar. “My white clover is a general favourite.”

Mr Martin said he knew of a firm that would let him have fancy notepaper at a wholesale price, Lady Merivale
always gave a large box of chocolates and the architect, with a decent show of diffidence, promised a framed drawing of the Old Market Cross done by himself.

Col. Bradshaw then looked encouragingly at Miss Hughes, who was reviewing in her mind the contents of her gift drawer. It contained, as far as she could remember, an orange silk lampshade and a set of plastic ashtrays, pink, blue and green, a pink satin nightdress case, a stuffed fashion doll bearing a faint likeness to Marilyn Monroe, a large tartan pincushion, a handbag in the shape of a rabbit with artificial fur and glass eyes, and a smart looking stainless-steel (but thoroughly unreliable) clock. All these articles had been bought as bargains or as the cheap leftovers from Bring-and-Buys, and were useful for the birthdays of her domestic ‘helps’ or for occasions like the present one. She decided on the clock as her raffle contribution, it really did look very well.

The next matter was not disposed of so easily – it had to be decided every year: should there be a band? The Boys’ Brigade was available but it was quite expensive and consumed a good deal of refreshments besides. On the other hand, a band always attracted people. But then should there be a marquee in case of rain? They could not afford both. As it was a chilly afternoon, the committee were quite illogically inclined to be gloomy about future weather prospects; rain seemed more likely than not and rain without a marquee would be disastrous, so the marquee won the day. Miss Blackett felt relieved; she hated uncertainty and the strain of watching the weather. It was decided to appoint a small sub-committee nearer the date to help with all the other arrangements.

The afternoon was slipping by and Lady Merivale brought the business of the fête to an end and passed on to the next item, which was to record the vacancy left by the departure of Mrs Wilson for the local hospital where most of the old ladies ended their days when they had passed
beyond the care of The Haven. The next name on the waiting list was a Mrs Nicholson who was unable, owing to heart trouble, to continue to run her own home. Miss Blackett felt that the time had now come for a protest and an appeal.

“Lady Merivale,” she said, “I am sorry to say that Brenda Jones, my only domestic help beside Gisela, the German au pair, and Mrs Mills who, as you know, only comes to me twice a week, has left me without notice. This Mrs Nicholson does not sound as though she will be able to do much for herself and I feel I cannot undertake this fresh responsibility and the extra work a new resident entails under present conditions. Then Mrs Langley’s condition has deteriorated during the past year and she needs constant supervision. I feel she should receive better attention than I can give her, certainly now without Brenda, and I think she should be removed to the geriatric department at the hospital as soon as they have a bed free.”

There was a general murmur of sympathy and assent.

“Of course, Miss Blackett,” said Lady Merivale, “we cannot let you be overworked and it does seem as though Mrs Langley is not a case for The Haven any more. Will you get Dr Moss to see her and then I am sure he will be able to arrange matters for you.”

But the vicar looked uneasy. His visits to the geriatric unit were not among his happiest.

“Mrs Langley is very contented here,” he said, “it will be a great change for her. No doubt she will get every physical care at the unit but has she not any relatives who might give her a home? I believe there is no lack of means to provide help and considering her age, it cannot be for very long.”

“She has a son close on seventy – the last time he visited her, which was some years ago as he is not in good health, she could not be persuaded that he was not her father. There is a married daughter in Canada and one grandson, a businessman in Birmingham,” said Miss Blackett.